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He did, however, contemplate checking the door to the museum part of the building while she was away. She was very good at keeping the door locked, but was there any chance?

He decided against it. Maybe he’d just stop by the post office, see how that old woman responded to him. If she looked at him funny, he might have to take care of her too.

He was good at catching suspicion. No one was good at hiding their initial reactions to anything. Sure, there were good actors out there, but that first instant someone’s eyes landed on him, he could read their thoughts.

As casually as possible, he made his way back around the buildings and sauntered toward the post office.

He’d remembered her name. Pearly. It was time to see if something needed to be done about Pearly.

CHAPTER

15

I DIDN’T TAKE THE trip back to town as slowly as my back or my Jeep’s shocks might have liked. I’d never been gentle with vehicles, hats, or boots.

I’d gotten off the main path, thinking I could make it back to town more quickly if I tried a straighter line—as the vulture flies, so to speak.

It had been a bad decision.

I’d taken shortcuts through The Wild lots of times, but I’d never attempted this one, and I should have known better. The straight line I’d hoped to take was more like switchbacks down the side of a mountain though on fairly flat ground. I’d get back to a familiar road and then town eventually, but I was most anxious about not having a cell signal and I kept checking my phone. And it was too hot to stop. I had to keep going. I counted on Minnie getting ahold of Calloway.

I realized that all I would need to do to check on the Smoots’ place was to drive around a mound of boulders that had probably been there since the dinosaurs roamed. Cacti and other things grew out from in between the rocks’ cracks; more proof that if life can take hold somewhere, it will, even in brutal landscapes.

I hoped there’d be a clear way to the Smoot trailer once I made my way around the rocks. As long as I was out, I might as well check on them.

The Jeep (bless its heart) continued to take the terrain like a champ, though I had no choice but to slow down. I wished for a tall tree with shading branches, but there were none.

I had three bottles of water rolling around on the back seat floorboard, but none were cold. It didn’t matter.

I brought the Jeep to a mostly level stop and made sure my hat shaded my head well enough. I reached around for the water and grabbed two.

The forced moment of stillness gave me pause. What was I doing all in an uproar anyway?

“Damn it, Wilmot,” I said after I swallowed a big swig and then wiped my chin with the back of my hand.

I read bones better than most, sometimes even better than the so-called experts. It was why I was brought in to offer my opinion so often. I loved my work.

When I thought about my father, the pain of his disappearance would sometimes become real, a sharp knife in my gut. Some thoughts didn’t bring pain but a fog of confusion instead, something that my subconscious didn’t want to clear away. Whatever it knew, it didn’t want me to face it.

At this moment, I wasn’t sure if I was ready to learn anything more about him. As I looked out over the landscape toward town, I tried to remember something else. I tried to think about those days before he took off. Did I know about the classes? Had there been any hint at all?

Try as I might, still nothing came back to me.

Except for a hint of blood in the back of my mind, bold and red. I didn’t feel much danger with the fuzzy vision, but I thought I should. My mind’s eye couldn’t see much of anything clearly.

“Aargh!” I slammed my hands on the steering wheel.

I knew or had heard of all the students. They were all a few years older than me. I’d known Minnie as far back as I could remember. I didn’t remember her hanging around or running away screaming from Wilmot’s lab.

Minnie didn’t have much of a reputation beyond her podcast. I’d only heard about her friendliness. She loved researching true crime or just real-life mysteries maybe. Not only had I never listened to her podcast about Wilmot, I hadn’t listened to any of her podcasts. I knew I’d probably missed out, but when I wasn’t working, I was … well, it was more like I was always working. Even if I wasn’t on assignment, I was doing something regarding my job, my passion. I had people throughout the state I’d visit, see if I could offer any sort of assistance. They were usually happy to see me and would have at least a question or two.

I had my own explorations too. As I looked out over the landscape again, I realized that though I might not have pushed the Jeep over all the terrain, I’d hiked most of what I could see.

I’d been looking for my father ever since he left, even if I didn’t think about him every day.

I had a faint picture in my mind of Danielle Harold. One memory was made of her freaking out in the post office, yelling at Pearly, the postmistress even back then. I’d walked into Pearly’s firm expression as she told the teenager to calm down.

I didn’t think I remembered Danielle’s exact words, but I thought she began her next diatribe with “Look, bitch.”