Page 62 of Dark Roads
“Nothingabout this town feels right, Thompson.” She pulled open her door, wincing as her rib cage complained, and lowered herself into her seat. “Who do I call about that?”
She closed the door before he could answer.
Mason eyed her. He had a hand towel thrown over one shoulder and an order pad tucked into his apron. “You sure you’re up for working today?”
“I’ve got this.”
“Maybe start with wiping down the booths.” He looked uneasy, like she might drop a tray or mess up everyone’s orders. He might not be wrong. She’d gone to the bathroom, splashed cold water on her face and neck, touched up her makeup, but she still felt shaky.
She moved over to a booth, cleaned the table, rubbed at some ketchup that had spattered up the wall and onto one of the picture frames. “Where did you get all these old photos?”
“Came with the diner. Hailey’s father gave me the history of them all. He knew everything about the area. Every mountain, river. Hailey was just like him.”
Beth studied the row of photos, stopped at one black-and-white shot of a small log cabin with smoke drifting up from a metal pipe. It looked as though it were built straight into rock.
She moved closer and tapped the glass. “What’s this?”
“The cabin? Miners used it, but that silver mine stopped operating years ago. Probably collapsed or grown in by now.” The door jingled and he moved off to help the customers.
Later, when Mason was working in the stock room and Beth’s phone was charged up, she checked her messages—and cringed as a series of texts loaded. One after another. All to Jonny.
I said THANK YOU. The polite thing is to answer back.
Where are you? Are you ignoring me?
I need to ask you something.
Did you lose your fucking phone?
Okay, now you’re just being a dickhead.
He’d never responded. Her words sat naked on the screen. Little green bubbles of disaster. She squeezed her eyes tight and shook her head. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
CHAPTER 24
Beth needed something a little more sustaining than vodka. Walking into the store, she heard the rumble of loud engines and turned around. A few trucks, dirt bikes in the back, blew past with their music blaring. She waited until they had all gone. None of them were Jonny’s.
“Going to the pit,” the cashier said when she asked.
“Pit?”
“Yeah, the old gravel pit. It’s a motocross track. They race every weekend.”
Beth paid for her groceries with her crumpled tips and got the cashier to draw a map on the back of her receipt. She wouldn’t talk to Jonny. She just wanted to see him race.
The road wound through stretches of dark forest with no houses in sight. She was beginning to think that she’d gotten lost when she came around a sharp corner and found trucks lined up and down the gravel road. Some were new, others old, with dented sides and huge meaty tires covered with dust. Several of them had trailers attached, currently empty. Guys milled about, but there were girls too. Bikini tops and jeans shorts.
When she got out of the car, she heard the dirt bikes. They sounded like a thousand angry wasps, a powerful droning hum that filled her body with a strange anticipation. She walked to where a bunch of people were standing. A radio was playing country music. Some of the crowd had brought chairs and coolers, umbrellas for shade. She spotted a guy standing near a keg selling beer and used the last of her tips to buy one. Shegulped the frothy, cold liquid as she pushed through the group of people and looked down into the pit. Ten motorbikes were going around in a circle, up and down hills, plumes of dirt chasing them like dragon’s breath.
One rider was well in the lead, and when he soared over a big mound of dirt, he was so far in the air he was only holding on to the handlebar with one hand, his entire body out behind him, then somehow he got into position, the bike hit the ground, and he went right up the next bank.
She gasped out loud. The girl next to her glanced over with a friendly smile. “Right?”
“Who is that?”
“Jonny Miller.” The girl sounded surprised, as though everyone knew his name, and turned to give Beth a longer look. Her eyes focused on the faint bruise on Beth’s temple and her eyebrows lifted. “Oh! You’re the new waitress. You’re staying at the lake campground, right? My older brother, Andy, he helped you…” She pointed at Beth’s head, then looked awkward.
“Yep. That’s me.”
