“Clear out,” I said, forcing any hint of emotion out of my voice. “Except Sloan. I’ll be right there.”
“We can’t,” Crew started to protest.
“I’m not asking. You called me. This is what you need to do. Clear out. I’m on my way.”
“Yeah, a’right,” he muttered reluctantly. “I’ll tell them.”
“Go to the clubhouse. I’ll be by to talk to y’all after I get the scene secure.”
“Scene,” Crew repeated in disbelief. “It’s RONNIE.”
“I know that,” I snapped, raking my hand over my head. “I have a job to do and part of that job is protecting you. I can’t let my emotions dictate my actions.”
“I…I know. I’m sorry,” Crew stuttered. “It’s just - Clutch is here and Hank.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah.”
“Get them out. I mean it.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, turning around to see her staring at me, and had to wonder what she thought after hearing my part of the conversation. “I’ll talk to you later.” I hung up, ignoring whatever else he was saying and went back to the woman watching me. “Change of plans,” I told her, yanking a pen and my notepad out of my pocket. I scribbled an address. “Go here. There’s a hook up for your rig.” She took the piece of paper automatically when I shoved it at her. “It’s safe,” I assured her, rubbing my forehead as thoughts of Ronnie and Clutch ran through my head. “It’s my house,” I added belatedly, clicking the pen closed and tucking it into my pocket. “We’ll get your tire fixed tomorrow.”
“I can go somewhere else,” she offered, waving the folded note with my address.
“No, please,” I urged, “Stay there. I mean it. You won’t have to worry.”
Her eyes narrowed as her mouth twisted. “I don’t need to be taken care of,” she hissed, something about my words riling her. “I don’t need your help.” She tried to give me back the note, but I refused to take it.
“No, I don’t think you need my help,” I replied. “But a friend just died and she….she does need my help.” I waved my arm at the empty road. “I don’t want to leave you here not knowing if you have a place to go.” I rolled my shoulders. “You don’t have to park at my place. But I hope you do.”
Some of the tension eased from her body and I was relieved to see her tuck the folded note in her pocket. “Go. It sounds like you’re needed. I’ll be fine.”
I nodded, reluctant to leave her, not knowing if I would ever see her again, and knowing that if she disappeared I’d regret it for the rest of my life. My phone started to ring again and I knew without looking it was my uncle.
“Go, March,” she insisted, waving me off. “Duty calls.”
I jogged to the patrol car, casting one last glance back to see her standing at the back of the RV, an enigmatic expression on her face. I slid into the seat, flipping the siren on as I started the engine. I made a sharp U-turn onto the highway, headed back to town, and only realizing then that I had no idea what her name was as she vanished in the rearview mirror.
Chapter Two
Cadence
“I think it’s time for an adventure,” Mom announced gleefully, a familiar excitement in her eyes. “The mountains maybe or the beach. I know! The mountains and the beach.”
She clapped her hands and I could almost appreciate her excitement, except… “I have finals, Mom,” I reminded her gently. “Remember, you promised we could stay the entire school year.”
Some of her excitement faded, making me feel like shit for disappointing her, but damn it, I didn’t want to move again. Not yet. Just one freaking normal year, that was all I had asked for after years of trailing around the country with Mom, following her crazy whims and mercurial moods.
“I know that,” she mumbled, staring down at her hands. “I meant after you finished the school year,” she added, trying to backtrack, but I knew that wasn’t what she’d meant at all. “We’d go this summer. Doesn’t everyone want to spend the summer at the beach?”
“Yeah, except we’ve spent every single summer of my life somewhere different,” I stated, making my bed back into a couch in the tiny living space of the RV we called home. “Don’t you ever just want to stay in one place?” I already knew the answer to the question. My mom was a rolling stone and the nine months we’d been here were about three months longer than she could stand.
“It’s just there’s so much to see! Don’t you want to see it all, baby girl?” She stared at me hopefully, the same pleading look she always gave me when she needed me to agree that I loved this nomadic life as much as she did.