Untraceable

Survival Skill #21

Proper rest stops, nutrition, hydration, and your physical condition are key to mountain hiking.

~

Without hesitation, I shove everything back into the drawer and slide it shut just as Les waddles up to the door.

He stops abruptly when he sees me. “Mornin’, Gracie. What are you doin’ here?”

I come out from behind the desk and try to act natural, hoping he doesn’t notice the big ‘guilty as charged’ sign stamped on my forehead. “Just waiting on you. How are you?”

Les slurs through his tobacco-packed lip. “Oh, can’t complain.”

I squeeze through the small space between him and the desk before sinking into a musty chair. My knees rise above my waist, but I pretend not to notice. “Were you out back?”

He eyes me. “Yeah, why?”

I shrug. “I heard voices. Was someone with you?”

“Nope. Probably just me yappin’ at the dog. Damn dog needs to learn that fetching means he has to bring something back.”

Eyeing him, I check to see if he’s showing any signs of deception. “Weird. I didn’t see you with Bear when I went back there.”

“I’m easy to miss.” Les snorts at his own fat joke and collapses into the seat. The chair groans from the extra weight. He interlaces his fingers and rests his hands on his belly shelf. “So Gracie, what can I do you for?”

I relax in the seat. “Wanted to see if you got the men I told you about.”

Les nods and spits into a cup. “Yup. They’re down with Carl at the station.”

My body stops moving. “Really? Why didn’t you call me?”

When he shrugs, his belly jiggles. “Forgot I guess.”

My fingers pick at the foam hanging out of the seat cushion. “Did you find any evidence of Dad?”

Les picks his nose. “We didn’t find hide nor hair of Joe. But I did find an expired gun license and some illegal equipment. Carl’s booked them yesterday so I’m sure he’ll question them more.”

I sit up straight. “Yesterday?”

“That’s what I said.”

A timeline reels through my head. “Do you know exactly what time?”

Les studies a stain on the ceiling. “Don’t know. About noonish I’d say.”

I groan and drop my face into my hands. “But that can’t be. Are you sure it wasn’t a few hours later?”

He shifts in his chair; I can tell he’s getting irritated. “Of course, I’m sure.”

A beetle crawls across the shorthaired carpet in front of me, climbing every obstacle in its path.

Les stands and moves around the desk, accidentally stepping on the insect. Poor bug didn’t stand a chance. “What’s goin’ on here, Gracie?”

“When I was fishing last night—”

He frowns. “Fishing? I thought you were going to stay at home until I called?”

I pretend I didn’t hear his question. “I heard popping noises out by Dragon Ridge.”

He dribbles a tar-like goop into a can, but a few black drops of saliva hang on his lips. “Popping noises?”

“Yeah, like from a gun. At the time, I assumed you hadn’t found Al and Billy yet. But if you got them earlier yesterday, then who made those noises I heard last night?”