Page 8 of Hemlock

I pull in a deep breath, letting my cheeks puff up before allowing the exhale as I watch a minivan's reverse lights light up down the long row of cars, but it doesn't immediately back out.

As always, this is proof that I never ask the right questions. When Tommy called after hearing about Billy going to prison, instead of just taking him up on the escape to East Tennessee that he was offering, I should've given it a little more thought.

Moving to one of the largest tourist locations on the eastern side of the United States, during one of its peak seasons, was clearly a huge mistake. It takes longer than forever to get through town, and then there's such a massive influx of people that finding parking for all of them is nearly impossible.

I nod at the man in the minivan when he finally manages his fifteen-point backup, but the car behind me honks before he can even get past me enough so that I can pull into the spot I was waiting for.

"'Tis the season," I mutter as I put my car into park.

I shove open my door, barely grabbing it in time when the wind catches it before it slams into the nice truck parked beside me.

"For fuck's sake," I mutter as I climb out, the wind tangling up my hair more than it already is.

The chill is bone-deep as I suck in another fortifying breath before walking toward the front of the building.

I look up at the sign that declares I'll find rare stones. The only reason I'm here is because I found a coupon in one of those booklets in the rack at the front of the grocery store. I don't necessarily want to do the tourist thing, but I made a vow that I'd have some sort of life. I've been in the area for over a month and this is the first time I've actually forced myself out of the small house I'm renting to something other than work or the grocery shop.

When I step inside, the screened-in building offering very little resistance to the whipping wind, I come to realize that this absolutely isn't a great idea.

To my right, behind a long counter, buckets of sand in ascending sizes line the wall.They range from some as small as a sand pail a child would use at the beach to massive fifty-five-gallon metal drums. Those have huge rocks on top, probably as an incentive to buy them instead of one of the smaller ones that are merely topped off with sand.

"I bet you're here for one of those big ones."

I look over, my smile in place, to find a guy who looks so young that I wonder if he has a valid identification to even get this job.

"Not even close," I tell him, earning a half smile.

I bet he offers that huge one to everyone that comes in just to break the ice.

"I'll take whatever this coupon will get me," I say, holding out the coupon I ripped from the booklet before leaving my house.

"That coupon takes five dollars off that one there," he says, pointing to the third bucket down the row.

Forty-five bucks for rocks? My mother didn't raise a fool, the current situation not included.

"And how much is that one?" I ask, pointing at the smallest bucket.

He does his best to hide his smile, but a little of it slinks onto his face as if he agrees that paying to sift through sand to get rocks is ridiculous.

"That one is twenty-five."

"Sold," I tell him.

He offers me the coupon back, but I wave it away. I doubt I'll ever be back here, so there's no use in having it.

He rings me up, telling me to grab a shovel as he plops the small bucket on the countertop in front of me.

"What's that for?" I ask when he hands me a clear plastic bag.

"All the treasure you're going to find. You can have almost any gem you find turned into a special piece of jewelry inside," he explains, angling his head to the far end of the building that leads into what appears to be a store, then he winks at me like I'm not at least a dozen or so years older than him.

"I love treasures!"

I smile again as I lift my bucket from the counter and turn to see a little boy with dreams of finding diamonds in his eyes.

"Good luck," I whisper to him as I walk by.

The woman who I presume is the little boy's mother tightens her grip on the man's hand she's holding as if she's fearful I'm going to pull him away from her.

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