“Pretty gruff?”
“He’s not exactly a people person, for one. And I can attest to that – he did more grunting than talking when I tried to start a conversation with him.”
“That’s it?”
“Well, of course when there’s a mysterious new person in town, People start saying he’s hiding something.”
“Hiding something?” I parroted, snorting. “That sounds a lot like a rumor.”
“That’s the impression everyone’s getting. He sure as hell seemed like it. I wasn’t just trying to hit on him, you know. I wanted to get to know the new guy in town, right? But he was cagey. Shifty, almost.”
“Good,” I said. “Means he’ll keep to himself.”
She arched her eyebrows, the metallic sounds of Parker’s fork and knife against his plate filling the air. “Wow,” she said. “You’re really serious about this alone in the woods thing.”
“Of course I am. Parker and you, that’s all I need.”
Coffee in hand, I turned toward the window and looked out into the woods, another breeze waving the branches. I didn’t know how, but I had a feeling my new, simple life in Silver Pines was about to become complicated.
Hunter
I woke up with a gasp, sweat soaked through my gray V-neck. When I came to, realizing I was in the bedroom of my new place, my heart slowed.
But the images from my dream were still fresh in my mind. I remembered the shot, the smell of freshly singed gunpowder in the air, the pain in my gut where the bullet hit.
That pain…it was like nothing I’d ever known – like a jagged blade right into my guts.
It was just a dream. A dream I’d lived through, sure, but a dream, nonetheless.
Fucking hell, I thought. Get a grip, Hunter. You’re as far away from all that bullshit as you can get.
But that didn’t make it any less real. I was in the waking world, but I could still smell the sulfur.
I reached over to my nightstand and picked up the cheap, burner flip-phone I’d bought on the way into town. It wasn’t much, like a phone pulled straight out of 2002, but it was all I needed. I pressed the button on the side, the screen lighting up and letting me know it was well into the morning. I couldn’t tell; the blackout curtains in my bedroom did their job.
A grumble sounded from my mouth as I plopped my size-thirteens onto the floor and heaved my ass out of bed. I stumbled to the bathroom, regretting that last shot of whiskey at the bar in town last night.
When I was in the bathroom, I grabbed onto the sides of the dingy sink and looked into the mirror. I hardly recognized myself, exactly as I’d planned. My jet-black hair was shaggy, the mane wild and unkept. My beard was longer than I’d ever kept it before. The eyes, sharp and blue, seemed dull, like something was missing.
My shape was still the same built and powerful physique I’d earned in the gym, back when I’d given a damn about such things. On my lower-left stomach was a wild scar, twisted and gnarled.
I’d moved here to become someone else, so seeing a stranger in the mirror sat just fine with me. I ran some cold water over my face and popped a few Aspirin before stepping back into the bedroom. I pulled on a pair of jeans and went into the living room, the sun coming in on deep orange beams. The room was nearly empty, nothing but a handful of cardboard boxes stacked in the corner, containing the few things I owned.
I didn’t get a chance to hit start on the coffeemaker before by phone buzzed in my pocket. A check of the screen revealed it was the one person whose name I’d bothered to add to my contacts. Hugh – the only friend I had.
“Yo,” I said, putting the phone to my ear and starting the coffeemaker, the machine gurgling to life. “What’s up?”
“How’s life in the middle of nowhere?” he asked.
“Only been twelve hours or so, but it’s suiting me well, have to say.”
Hugh Ford was an old buddy of mine from back in the day, back when I was still on the force, when I was actually still a member of society. I spent years in the LAPD, and he was about the only cop I knew who wasn’t as crooked as a barrel of fishhooks.
And he was the only person on this Earth I could trust.
He lived in Seattle now, a couple hours’ drive away from Silver Pines. We’d both retired from the force. Hugh had started a private security firm, using his skills to make some serious money in the private sector.
“I don’t know about this, Hunt.”
I opened the fridge, taking out the Styrofoam container from the bar last night that held the rest of my burger and fries. The fridge was empty aside from that. I set the container on the counter, opened it, and plucked out a cold fry, popping it in my mouth. It tasted like rubber, but I chewed and swallowed it anyway.
“We’ve been over this,” I said, leaning back against the counter and stretching my back. “Last thing I want is to be living around people. Can’t handle the fucking city anymore.”
“I don’t know if I’d consider the way you’ve been living for the last year ‘handling the city,’” he scoffed. “You had an apartment outside of town that you never left. And now you’re severing the last little bit of thread connecting you to civilization.”
“Now, that’s not true,” I said, casting an eye to the coffeemaker. “I’m still talking to you, aren’t I?”
The smell of fresh coffee filled the air. I wasn’t a man who gave much of a damn about luxury, but I did enjoy a good cup of joe.
“Yeah, only because I’m the last person who goes out of his way to keep in touch.”
“No one’s putting a gun to your head.”
He sighed, and I could sense he wasn’t in the mood for the same conversation we’d had a million times, the one where he tried – and failed – to get me to rejoin the world, to come work at his firm. Fat fucking chance. The way I lived suited me.
“Anyway, I’m coming in for lunch. You still wanna meet?”
“How about you grab some burgers and meet me at my place.”
“That’s what I want to talk to you about.”
“What’s what you want to talk to me about? My red meat intake?”
He chuckled. “Wiseass. No, not that. It’s about your new digs.”
“So talk.”
“Rather do it in person. I checked online,” he said, not giving me a chance to argue. “There’s a diner called the Red Kettle downtown. Meet me there at noon.”
“I suppose so. See you then.”
We hung up, and at the moment I slipped my flip-phone into my jeans pocket the coffee was ready. I poured myself a cup, letting the mug warm my hands. The place wasn’t much, and the chilly air from outside was already getting frigid. But I’d have more than enough time on my hands to remodel and update the cabin.
Not like I had anywhere to be.
I took my mug and stepped out onto the wooden porch, grabbing a flannel shirt on the way out and slipping it over my big arms. It was quiet – just what I wanted. The Douglas Firs loomed overhead, a light fog floating around the trunks. Everything seemed to be wet. Now and then a branch would crack in the distance from one woodland creature or another.