Without You

7. A Lead

Lindsey pushed the gear shift into park before hopping out of the car. Checking to confirm the number painted on the heavy metal door matched that on his piece of paper, he located the lockbox that would let him lift it. 

0-7-2-4....07/24...July 24th–that can't be a coincidence.

While the date on the form had been important in relation to Stevie's supposed date of death, he hadn't consider its possible significance beyond that. Why?

Shaking his head, he filed the information away in his mind. The metal rattled precariously as he shoved it above his head.

Beyond being dark and slightly musty, the space was practically empty and covered in dust. Clearly no one had been here in a while. And Barb definitely hadn't been around last week, as her footprints would have disrupted the fine layer of dirt and dust coating the floor. Obviously, Stevie has relocated a long time ago. Hell, she had probably already settled in her new home by the time I got out of bed for the first time after hearing the news, he mused darkly. How could they have done this to him? Jess had, what, helped Stevie move her furniture and then stopped at Lindsey's to hold him while he sobbed over her death. It was too much.

He leant back against the side of the Mercedes in thought. If Jess had moved all of her things up here from LA, it would logically follow that she was living somewhere nearby. Maybe even down the street from her parents. A house he had driven past dozens of times, perhaps seen her figure in the window and hardly gave it a thought. This entire situation was seriously fucking with his brain. He internally scoffed. And I probably needed therapy even before all of this.

Glancing up at the sky, he noticed the sun was starting to go down. Trying to figure out his next move, a loud growl from his stomach distracted him. In his eagerness to get to Sedona as quickly as possible, he hadn't eaten since that crappy burger almost 8 hours ago. He remembered seeing a cluster of shops right before turning into the storage complex, maybe he would try to find something there. He pulled down the door and locked the latch, deciding he would return the next day to look for anything he might have missed. Leaving the complex, he asked the man working the booth whether there were any restaurants nearby. The man gruffly pointed toward the series of shops across the block that Lindsey had noticed earlier, explaining something about a deli inside the local supermarket. Great.

***

Looking around the quaint little market, he grabbed a sandwich from the deli and a coke, not sure how much driving he still had to do that night. He put the items down in front of the teenage kid at the only open register. The place was practically deserted, though it probably didn't get too much foot traffic to begin with.

"You got a membership with us, man?" asked the boy, eyes lazy in a look of pure boredom. Great customer service.

"Nah, I'm just visiting. You guys got a co-op thing going here?"

"Yeah, local business you know."

Lindsey nodded in reply, handing over a couple of bucks for his food before walking out the door. 

The odd blue light of dusk had already settled across the landscape. He would probably have to find some place to stay for the night. He could always go back to the Nicks', but that would really be a last resort. At this point, he'd rather hand over the cash for some crappy motel room. He sat in the car, scarfing down his sandwich. Washing it down with some sips of soda, he went to throw out the wrapper. Tossing it in the trash outside the building, he turned around, nearly running into the store's catering van. Their delivery services were advertised in paint on either side of the car. About to get back into his own, he stopped opening the door mid-swing before slamming it shut. Delivery, huh? Well she'd have to get them somehow...

Almost jogging back into the store, he found the kid at the register, now listening to his Walkman. Tapping him quickly on the shoulder, the boy spun around, ripping off his headphones.

"Geez, man. What's your deal?"

"I know you cater, but you guys ever deliver just regular groceries?" Lindsey asked immediately, ignoring the boys previous question.

"Hey, I thought you said you weren't from around here."

"Cut the crap, kid. Just answer the question."

"I don't know—do I look like the manager or something to you?" Lindsey rolled his eyes, reaching in his pocket and pulling out a twenty.

"Do you know now?" He asked again, holding the bill between his fingers.

"I might.." he replied, meeting Lindsey's gaze before looking pointedly the money. Lindsey internally groaned. Pulling out a fifty this time, he put it down on top of the twenty. The boy's eyes went wide, not expecting that much money to be added.

"Well?" Lindsey asked, brows raised expectantly.

"Well there's one place. Every week, the manager drives the car up there himself, never has anyone else do it. It's somewhere up in the hills, not sure."

"That's it?" The teenager looked down at the ground, shuffling his sneakers guiltily.

"Up in the hills, you said?"

"Mhm."

"How would you know where he's going if you've never been there?"

"Well I–look, one day Brian—that's the manager—his kid gets sick so he can't leave. So he throws me the keys to the van and gives me some crazy directions to get up to this place. I listen to the radio, fuck around, whatever — it takes years before I finally find this place. It's like a little cottage, flowers and shit everywhere. I leave the bags on the porch and that's that. But that's all I know. For real." Lindsey doesn't acknowledge the end of the kid's story, his brain already whirring a mile a minute.

"When does he usually go? Every week you said?"

"Yeah, every Friday morning. It's not too busy here then."

Friday, that was...

"So your manager, Brian was it, he's going up there tomorrow morning?"

"Well he would, but he's up in Flagstaff for the holidays. Guess it'll have to be me again."

"That's—that's great."

"Guess so."

"I mean—can I, can you take me up there?"

"I dunno. Dude, what do you care about some fuckin groceries anyway?"

"How much do you want?"

"What?"

Lindsey pulls the wad of bills out of his pocket.

"Oh shit."

"Look, what's your name?"

"Riley."

"Right, Riley. Nice to meet you. I'm Lindsey."

"That's a—"

"Yeah, I know," he says, cutting Riley off. A girl's name, got it.

"I will pay you to take me up to this place. You don't have to do a thing, just let me know when you're going and I'll follow behind alright?" He finishes his statement by taking a hundred out of the stack of bills. Sighing reluctantly, Riley takes it from his fingers

"You're-uh not gonna kill anyone right? Cause this is a whole lot of cash and I don't really want–"

"Riley."

"Yeah?"

"We're not killing anyone."

"Oh okay. Good. That's a relief."