🗝️Detective Ryker Viltarin must uncover dark secrets before he loses not only his heart but also his life.🗝️
You're on your own, far from home
The wind is blowing in the top of the pines
A gloomy sky where the sun never shines
Deep...
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A few hours had passed in the meantime. The sun was now lower in the sky and was slowly but surely moving towards the horizon.
His hand had tightened around the steering wheel of the pickup truck, which he had named "scrap heap." Rightly so, he thought. After all, the truck was covered in dents and rust stains. If Ray had known that Riona called him 'Rusty,' he would have agreed with her without hesitation. The tailgate was stuck, as he realized right at the start, and sometimes he had to turn the key what felt like ten times before the engine would even start. Scrap heap or rusty was a kind way of putting it.
But he had to be glad Eve lent him the car to reach East Pine Creek. Otherwise, he would probably have had to walk the long way because the bus was too infrequent and unsuitable for transporting building materials.
The long journey to East Pine Creek was, of course, a nuisance. But even Eve was convinced that the little shop in the village wouldn't be able to help them. Unless they want to wait weeks for the materials, so he had offered to drive to the next town and get what they needed there. Admittedly, it was an offer he had only made with self-interest.
So he finally left this cursed backwater, where there wasn't even a telephone network. He had seen a computer during his short stay in the Bluebird, but it wasn't suitable. This old fossil and the many prying eyes were too risky for him. In communities as small as Silvershore, everyone knew everyone else. As a stranger, you were often the number one topic of conversation and were watched at every turn. So you had to be careful what you did in the village. Investigations of any kind were too risky there.
But that was not the reason for his current dissatisfaction. He didn't know exactly what was wrong with him. The strange feeling in his stomach wouldn't go away. He had often been able to rely on his gut feeling, but the fact that his tension wouldn't go away wholly was new even to him and distracted him. He had to concentrate. If this woman was prepared to harm her son, then he couldn't afford to make a mistake. Otherwise, it could be dangerous for him and the boy.
Gravel crunched under the tires, and the van jolted a few times as he steered it into a bumpy lay-by and finally brought it to a halt. The handbrake squeaked uncomfortably as he applied it, switched off the engine, and leaned back in the seat. His hand reached the passenger seat and fished for the white piece of paper he had placed there.
