Page 2 of May 11

"What's the number?"

"541-555-3216"

"What's your name?" She tapped the numbers and connected the call.

"Rush," said the man.

On the phone, the call went through. She wet her dry lips.

"Yeah?" said a deep voice.

"You don't know me, but your friend Rush is here. He's hurt." She looked outside to find the man no longer standing but sitting on the asphalt. "I think he's been shot, and I don't know what to do."

"Where is he?"

She pressed her hand to her forehead, wondering if it was wise to have someone else show up when she was here by herself. What if the man on the phone brought a gun?

"In the parking lot of Coastal Foods." She tapped her forehead. "I'm not sure what street that's on, but it's on the main—"

"I know where. Stay with him." The call disconnected.

She set her phone down and blew out her breath. It wasn't like she could leave without some prep work. She'd need to make the bed, put the dishes that were air-drying away, pull up the stabilizers, and open all the blinds.

Looking down at her bare feet, she groaned. When she'd gone to bed, she only wore a tank top and a pair of panties because it was hot inside the vehicle. She hated running the air conditioner when parked in public because it muted all the outside noises.

She stepped to the closet and pulled a pair of shorts out, slipping them on. Her shoes were under the bed, and it took extra time to find them in the dark. She'd slipped them on when a lone headlight entered the parking lot.

A loud rumble filled the motorhome. It was a motorcycle approaching.

Afraid it was someone who would hurt the man outside, she shouted, "Is that your friend?"

"Yeah."

At least, she wanted to believe the man had answered her. She wasn't sure because she couldn't hear over the roar. The man had stopped his motorcycle beside the fallen man and then shut off the engine.

She pulled the chair from under the small table and sat down, only letting her eyes peek over the windowsill. Leaving the window open, she strained to hear the men's conversation.

"Where did you get hit?" The biker squatted down. "You sure?"

The two men lowered their voices. She wanted to ask if he would be okay, but she wanted them to leave more.

As soon as they left, she'd prepare the van for travel. There was a campground outside of town, about ten miles away. She could stay there. It would be safe.

And even though it was quite a drive to return to town tomorrow when she asked around about her missing brother, it was better than the thought of the gunman returning and killing her.

It wasn't like she'd stuck to one plan the last year. After her parents were killed in the head-on collision on their way to the cruise ship, all she'd done was flounder.

She'd traveled from Southern California through every small coastal town into Oregon. At each stop, she took her time to look around and talk to the people.

There was no need for her to work. She had money, thanks to her parents.

Though she missed doing something with her life and seeing people she knew, it was more important that she find her brother. Her missing older brother.

A brother she'd never met before.

"Hey, lady?" shouted the man.

She sat straighter. "Yes."

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