After the Storm(11)

            Fifteen minutes after he’d relocated down the street, he saw the kid Rusty had hired walk out of the hardware store. She was not wrong. This kid checked his surroundings. In fact, he brought more attention to himself because he was being so cautious. He walked slowly, his head turning side-to-side and then over his shoulder in a regular rotation.

            He was a big kid. Tall and muscular, but thin. He had a look to him that told Donovan he was very likely malnourished. His face was thin and his expression was somber. He picked up speed at the end of the block as he crossed the street.

            Damn it. If Rusty didn’t hurry her ass up, they were going to lose him.

            Just when he’d decided to take off after the kid on his own, Rusty hurried out and ran toward his truck. She slid into the passenger seat and Donovan backed out.

            “You’re right about him being wary,” Donovan muttered as he slowed to a discreet distance behind the kid. “He’s too obvious about it, though. If a cop sees him they’re going to pick up on the fact that it looks like he has something to hide.”

            Rusty nodded and frowned. “Yeah, I know. But I can hardly tell him to act more casual, you know?”

            “Yeah. I hear you.”

            They drove slowly for several minutes and Donovan cursed.

            “Hell, how far is this kid walking to work anyway?”

            Rusty looked as unhappy as Donovan was.

            “I don’t know, but it’s been what, a mile so far?”

            “Almost two,” Donovan said grimly.

            “He’s turning onto that gravel road ahead,” Rusty said, leaning forward in the seat. “I hope he hasn’t made us and is throwing us off.”

            “We’ll drive by like we’re going ahead and then circle back,” Donovan said.

            He accelerated and drove past the road the kid had turned onto. He glanced over to see the kid walking along the side, his back to the highway. Donovan went up a ways and then did a U-turn and drove back to the road.

            “Damn it!” Rusty said when they took the turn. “I don’t see him now!”

            Donovan accelerated down the road, dust kicking up behind them.

            “Look! There he is!” Rusty said, pointing to the right.

            Donovan continued past the run-down trailer and made another turn around to circle back. When they pulled into the driveway—if you could call the rut in the yard an actual driveway—Rusty tensed, her expression sorrowful as she took in the trailer the kid lived in.

            He reached over to squeeze her hand.

            “This was me when I was his age,” Rusty whispered. “God, it makes me sick to think of him living here with two sisters. It’s barely big enough for one person, let alone three.”

            Donovan grimaced and nodded his agreement.

            The yard was overgrown and badly in need of mowing. But that was the least of the issues. There was a blue tarp over one half of the roof of the trailer. There were missing shingles in other places. The skirting was missing. One window was busted out and there was a missing step leading up to the door.

            It didn’t even look livable. The thing should have already been condemned.

            He cut the engine and then looked over at Rusty.

            “Remember what I said. You stay behind me until I’m certain this is safe. I’ll knock and see what happens. When and only when I tell you it’s okay, you can tell your story of shorting him money. I want to get inside so I can assess the situation myself.”