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I pick up a fallen rake and lean it against the wall. “Nope.”
One corner of the space is filled with hand mowers and edgers, filthy with mud and clumps of grass. The back wall has a long counter covered in engine parts and tools. Both front corners contain large built-in cabinets. “You check that one,” I say, pointing across the room. “I’ll check this one.”
“What am I looking for?” she asks.
“Folding chairs. A blanket, maybe. No telling how long we’re stuck here.”
The rain lashes the building as the wind shifts directions. Water comes in the door, so I close it now that we have a light. There are no windows, so nobody will see we’re in here, not that they’d be headed to the shed in this weather.
“Score!” Ensley says, so I turn to her. She drags out what first appears to be a folding chair, but when she opens it, it’s a cot.
Interesting.
She scoots the cot to the center of the room as best she can with one hand. “Better than sitting on the floor.”
I open my cabinet. It’s nothing but paint cans, oil, and more maintenance tools. I head over to hers.
This cabinet has tarps, rope, and stakes. The large section at the bottom held the cot, but there’s more hidden back there. I stoop down.
There’s a plastic bin. I almost ignore it, but it’s out of sync with the rest of the items in the shed. Too colorful, too new. I drag it out.
“What did you find?” Ensley asks, leaning over the bin as I pop off the top. “Score again!” she cries.
It contains a bottle of bourbon, a sheath of plastic cups, and two bags of Doritos.
“Looks like we’re not the only ones using the shed after hours,” I say.
“But why the cot?” she asks.
She’s about to sit down when I say, “It’s probably a hookup spot.”
She stands up straight, looking dubiously at the canvas surface.“Eeeew.”
I snatch the bottle of bourbon and a cup. This will take the edge off.
Ensley opens a bag of chips. “I was too nervous to eat all day. I’m starving.”
“Want some?” I ask, holding up the bottle.
“Definitely.” She crunches a handful of Doritos.
I pour a healthy amount of bourbon and give it a sniff. “Not total rotgut.” I pass it to her.
“I’ll drink anything at this point.” She takes a delicate sip and shivers. “This’ll hit me like a brick.”
I pour a couple of inches for myself and down it, then pour some more. The fiery warmth is the first good thing since I spotted Ensley in the hall. “This whole thing is bullshit.”
Ensley examines the cot again, then sits on the edge. “I know. I’m sorry. But Felicia was going to make Ronnie walk down the aisle with her instead of her dad. She was so upset. I had to do something. I figured a red wine accident was better than bloodshed.”
“I would have opted for murder.”
Her shoulders droop. “I hope it was a beautiful ceremony.”
More thunder booms, but we can’t see the lightning anymore. Wind rattles the roof.
“It will hold up, right?” Ensley asks, eyes on the ceiling.
“It’s old. Been through plenty of storms.”
