“I’m in Idaho. And I’ve got her, Dad.” I look through the glass at the truckers seated at the counter. They’re both watching me, like I’m more interesting than the music videos blaring from the TV above the bar. I turn my back to them and hunch over to get some semblance of privacy.
“You’ve got who, Miles?” my dad asks testily.
“I’ve got the girl. The Alaskan. She broke my phone. That’s why I haven’t been able to call.”
There is silence on the other end of the line, which is very atypical for my dad. He’s usually all freak-out and immediate action, so this throws me off. “I know it’s her, Dad. She’s got the star thing in her eye. Dark hair, although it’s cut short now. She’s around five foot five and says her name’s Juneau. She lived in this apocalyptic hippie cult out in the Alaskan wilderness.”
Dad clears his throat. “Has she mentioned Amrit?”
“What’s Amrit?”
“Amrit’s a drug I’m trying to acquire,” he says impatiently.
“No. See, that’s the thing. I know she matches your description, but she can’t be the one you want. If you’re looking for an industrial spy, she’s definitely not involved in something like that.”
“What makes you think that?” Dad asks, but there’s something in his voice. It’s the tone of voice he uses when he’s teaching me a lesson. His crafty voice, making me figure a problem out for myself. Like . . . Of course she doesn’t work for a drug company, but tell me why.
My dad is waiting for an answer. I want to tell him that she’s not a spy because she’s a brainwashed cult member, but I’m not going to go into the whole Yara crap. It’ll just provoke him. I sigh. “She’s not working with a pharm company, Dad. Or involved in any espionage. She’s like wilderness survival girl just trying to find her dad. If you want someone to kill and cook a rabbit for you, or tell you what time it is by looking at the sun, she’s your girl. Otherwise . . .”
“Miles, tell me exactly where you are.” My father had put his business voice on. Succinct. To the point. No arguing.
“The El Dorado Motel, somewhere in southern Idaho not far from Utah.”
“Good. You stay right there. My men are still in Seattle. They can be there before sunrise. Make sure you keep her there. Don’t let her get away.”
“Go ahead and send your guys, Dad. But she’s not going to get away. It’s not like I’m holding her hostage or anything. She can’t even drive. I swear she’ll be here in the morning.”
“Okay, just hold on, Miles. I’m going to get my men on the other line. Don’t hang up.”
It’s started to get chilly, and I wish I had worn my jacket. I look up at the moon, just beginning to emerge above the tree line. Juneau could probably look at that and not only tell me what time it is, but what the weather will be like tomorrow. The magic stuff is a load of shit, but it’s true that she could probably survive if she was stranded on the moon. She’s brave, determined and . . . fierce. I’d give anything to have even half her know-how. Why’d she have to go and ruin it all with the Yara crap? I feel a twinge of guilt twist in my gut but remind myself that last night she not only fed me some homemade drugs but diverted my attention from what she was doing by kissing me, and I push the feeling aside.
I hear a rapping on the glass, and I swing around to see one of the truckers standing inches away from me on the other side of the window. He does a charades thing where he acts like he’s driving a car, manipulating an invisible steering wheel with his hands.
I shrug at him and think, Stupid drunk redneck, and then notice that he’s pointing toward the parking lot. His buddy behind him is cracking up, pointing in the same direction.
I look toward where they’re gesturing and see my car backing up slowly, as the brakes pump on, off, on, off. The automatic overhead light is still on inside the car, and I see Juneau’s face illuminated as she pops the headlights on and throws the gear into drive. For a split second our eyes meet, and her stricken expression tells me she must have overheard the entire phone conversation. She witnessed my betrayal.
With motor revving, wheels spinning, and gravel spraying, she swerves wildly out of the parking lot onto the two-lane road and screeches off in a dust cloud of fury.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
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37
JUNEAU
I AM NUMB WITH SHOCK. MILES BETRAYED ME. I shouldn’t be surprised. Frankie said he needed me. But I never imagined it was to hand me over to his father, who is for some reason searching for me. What’s that even mean, “working with a farm company”? That must be why Miles asked if I worked for anyone.