Page 51 of Interference

“Okay.” I settled into the passenger seat. “Now I can breathe.”

Anthony glanced at her in the rearview. “Yeah, she’ll be fine back there.” He turned to me. “Are you good sitting separately from her, though?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I pulled on my own seat belt. “She’s still close by, and she can alert on me if she needs to.”

He nodded. “All right. If you prefer to sit back there with her, I won’t be offended.”

“Nah, I’ll be okay. Thanks, though.”

We exchanged smiles, and he backed out of the parking space.

Our next stop was the vet clinic. Dr. Green had wanted to do a follow-up on Lily after she’d been on the antibiotics for her skin infection. To my great relief, the infection had completely cleared up. Her skin looked great, and especially with a Doberman’s short fur, the small hairless patch would be gone in no time.

“Finish up the oral antibiotics,” the vet told me, “and keep the ointment in case she gets any other irritated areas. It looks great, though.” She smiled. “She’s in perfect health.”

That was a relief. One of my biggest fears out there had been Lily getting sick. Or getting hurt and then getting sick. That she’d only managed to get a mild skin infection, which had now cleared up, took a huge load off my mind. At least now I knew what to watch for, and I had some ointment in case it happened again.

I managed to pay for the visit with my account; I suspected Dr. Green was giving me a discount, but she didn’t draw any attention to it, which I appreciated. She couldn’t give away her services, but I was grateful that she seemed compassionate about my situation. My pride could just shut up and deal with it.

After we’d left the clinic, it was time for our shopping trip. While we’d eaten breakfast, Anthony and I had made a list of the things Lily and I had lost, and I’d explained the things I was most concerned about replacing. A tent, blankets, and clothing, mostly. Anthony said he knew of an outdoorsy store that would probably have almost everything, so we headed out that way.

I just hadn’t realized he meant that outdoorsy store.

I started to catch a clue when we headed into Redmond, which was swanky and expensive like a lot of the cities in this area. None of the glass skyscrapers of Bellevue or the massive houses of Medina (at least not in town), but this was the land of Microsoft and the dotcoms. Even through the dotcom bust and various recessions, money had continued to flow here, especially the old Microsoft and Boeing money from the 1980s and 1990s.

And right in the heart of one of the shopping centers was a three-story building that was clearly going for the artfully rustic aesthetic that was so popular around here: rust-colored walls, irregular lines at odd angles, enormous windows. At one end, encased in glass, was an indoor climbing wall that went all the way to the third floor.

Gazing up at the store as Anthony pulled into a parking space, I said, “Are you sure about this place? They’re expensive as hell.”

“They also have the gear that’ll actually last.” He shut off the engine. “I’d rather spend a little extra and know it won’t fall apart on you.”

I chewed my lip. I didn’t want him spending a ton of money on me, but he had a point. This was the kind of bougie place that had earned the right to sell equipment for those prices. They’d even outfitted a number of Everest and K2 expeditions—including one that had made the news a couple of years ago because a group survived thanks in large part to their gear—so this place had the good shit.

Pride be damned, I couldn’t afford to insist that we go someplace cheaper. Not when we were buying things to keep me and my dog alive through the winter.

So I nodded and got out. I let Lily out of the back, and the three of us headed inside.

In a place this big, I expected to be overwhelmed by noise and people. Especially with holiday decorations everywhere, I braced for the chaos of Christmas shopping.

But it was a Wednesday afternoon and Black Friday hadn’t yet kicked off the holiday shopping season, so the place was almost deserted. A handful of people wandered the aisles, but that was it. As I took in the almost serene atmosphere, I realized most people were either at work right now, traveling for Thanksgiving, or making last-minute runs for holiday food, none of which landed them in this place. Perfect.

“I thought it would be more crowded,” I said.

“Not on a weekday.” Anthony grabbed a shopping cart. “I usually come here in the morning if I can help it. It’s a ghost town.”

“Oh yeah?” I glanced at him as we followed the signs toward the camping gear. “You come here a lot?” My teeth snapped shut. God, that sounded like a fucking pickup line!

He didn’t seem to notice, though, and shrugged. “I snowboard, and I hike and bike a lot during the off season, so I’m either here or at one of the bike shops.”

“Really? So, like, street biking? Mountain biking?”

“All of the above.” He chuckled and pulled up his sleeve, revealing a silvery scar on his forearm. “I think my coach would prefer I didn’t do so much of the offroad shit, but…”

“Ouch. How’d you manage that?”

“They do these rides out in the mountains during the summer.” He tugged his sleeve back into place and slid his hands into his pockets. “You take the ski lift up, then ride down. They’re seriously fun, but one year I hit a bump, and… Well…”

I shuddered. “That sounds painful. Especially since going downhill usually means going fast, right?”

---