Page 19 of Forgotten Path
He ended the call, turned his phone off, and wandered into the kitchen to get another beer, promising himself that he’d work on his book afterward. He could do a chapter on handling the fairer sex in the workplace. He’d change Sharon and Brianna’s names so they wouldn’t come around with their hands out once he was a bestseller.
Keri Russell could play Sharon. Maybe Elle Fanning would be good in the role of Brianna.
He twisted the cap off his beer and tossed it in the general direction of the trash can while he composed a catfight in his mind. The book would be nonfiction, but the directors would probably take some liberties with the movie. A good fight between two buttoned-up businesswomen would be a hot scene. He grabbed a pen and scribbled a note on the back of an envelope so he wouldn’t forget.
CHAPTERTWELVE
After his solitary dinner, Bodhi washed the dishes and cleaned Joel’s small kitchen from top to bottom. All that was left to do was to dry the dishes and put them away. He pulled aside the curtain to peek outside. The sun was about to set. If he made quick work of the drying, he could walk down to the bridge and catch the last rays before they disappeared behind the waves.
He pulled a kitchen towel from the stack on top of the refrigerator. As he did so, the cloth hit something metal, knocking it from the top of the fridge to the floor. A set of Jeep keys skittered to a stop between his feet.
Dishes and sunset forgotten, Bodhi set the towel on the counter and squatted to retrieve the keys.
He twirled the ring around his index finger and weighed his options. Wait until the morning, when Felicia was available, and search the car with her. Or dig out a flashlight and take a look himself now.
He reasoned that he was effectively a guest in Joel’s home and that his host wouldn’t hesitate to lend him the car if he asked. So, there was no harm in checking it out.
He paused to assess his logic. It wasn’t wholly untortured, but it passed the sniff test. So he grabbed the heavy-duty flashlight from the drawer under the couch and headed outside.
He unlocked the Jeep’s driver-side door and slid into the front seat—or tried to. The seat was racked so far forward that his knees and elbows banged against the steering column. He eased himself out of the vehicle and walked around to the passenger side.
He leaned in and reached across to stick the key into the ignition. The interior was hot and stuffy. He turned on the air conditioning and the interior lights, then switched off the flashlight, cutting its beam.
The radio blared to life, and the lively steel drum music he’d come to associate with the Keys blasted from the speakers. He lowered the volume, then opened the glove box. A mountain of papers cascaded out of the compartment. Expired insurance cards, improperly folded road maps, and a strategic reserve of unbleached napkins from fast food restaurants fluttered into his lap. He stacked everything into a reasonably neat pile and shoved it back into the small space, squeezing it in to fit on top of the faux leather holder for the owner’s manual.
He glanced down and spotted a small piece of cardboard, roughly the size of a business card, on the floor near his feet. He picked it up and turned it over. It was a loyalty punch card for the Oyster Point Juice Joint. ‘Buy nine drinks, and the tenth one’s on us!’ it promised. The entire top row of circles was punched, and two holes were punched on the bottom. The tenth hole had a big star printed over it. Joel was three drinks away from his freebie.
Bodhi opened the glove compartment again, planning to stuff the card on the top of the precarious pile, then reconsidered. He slipped it into his pocket instead.
The tropical music faded, and the deejay’s smooth voice informed Bodhi that the Keys had just recorded their thirty-seventh consecutive record high temperature, with tomorrow promising to bring more of the same. He switched off the radio and continued his search of the Jeep. Aside from some sand on the floor and a well-stocked first aid kit in the back, he didn’t find anything. There were no parking passes or receipts to explain where Joel spent the first weekend of each month. Nothing.
He exited the vehicle and locked the doors, planning his next moves as he walked back into the camper. He’d put away the dishes and read the articles that Joel had marked in his journals. Then, before bed, he’d go online and look up the Juice Joint. It wasn’t much to go on, but if Joel was a regular, maybe someone there would know where he went each month.
* * *
Bodhi jerkedawake from a deep sleep, fully alert. His heart thudded in his chest as he pulled himself up to a seated position. He blinked at the illuminated face of the clock on Joel’s dresser. 4:12 AM.
Something had woken him with a start. An unfamiliar bird call? Light arcing over the window? The camper rocking in the night wind? He didn’t know. Then, once he gained control of his breathing and his pulse slowed, he remembered.
It wasn’t a disturbance in his environment that had yanked him from his slumber. It was a realization: Joel Ashland was roughly Bodhi’s height. In his dream, he’d had a clear mental image of the two of them flanking Felicia as they walked with the shorter woman through the halls of the medical examiner’s office all those years ago. Bodhi had glanced over at Joel and met his gaze—at eye level. He was sure of it.
Which meant that whoever last had driven the Jeep, it wasn’t Joel. A six-foot-tall man simply couldn’t have contorted himself behind the wheel with the seat pushed all the way up. He’d tried it and had failed.
No, given the position of the driver’s seat, the last person to drive the Jeep was considerably smaller than Joel. Maybe Joel had been in the passenger seat. But that possibility still left a question scratching at Bodhi’s brain: who’d been driving?
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
Thursday morning
Felicia was feeling the burn of Pilates when her phone chirped. She grunted and paused the too-cheerful woman on the video.
“Williams.” She hoped she didn’t sound as breathless as she felt.
“Did I wake you? It’s Bodhi.”
“No, I’m just finishing my morning workout.” She glanced at the time. Not quite six o’clock. “You’re up early.” She recalled he was an early riser, but this was early even for a morning bird.
“I should have waited until a decent hour to call. I’m sorry.”
