Page 49 of High Frequency

“Chelsea? What happened when you discovered you had no money for the bus?”

She darts a glance away from the camera again. I get the sense she remembers more but doesn’t want to speak in front of her parents, there’s not much I can do about that.

I suspect she probably wasn’t ready to return home after discovering she didn’t have bus fare and maybe tried to hitchhike into Kalispell. Something I would assume her parents have clear rules about.

“Did someone stop to give you a ride?” I ask, trying to take a bit of the responsibility away from the girl.

We’re back to nodding.

“Was it a car or a truck?”

I’m sitting on the edge of my seat, almost willing her to give the answer I can feel in my bones is coming.

She tucks her long hair behind one ear and bites her lip.

“Car,” she finally says, deflating my balloon.

I was so sure.

It’s hard not to feel a little deflated, but I can’t lose sight of the fact the girl is finally starting to remember, giving me information I didn’t have before.

“But I changed my mind and ended up not getting in,” she adds, much to my surprise. “I thought maybe I could walk over to visit with Jessie for a bit before going back home.”

Off-camera I hear a sharp inhale of breath and Chelsea turns her head in that direction.

“Who is Jessie?” I ask quickly, to get the girl’s attention back. “Is she a friend?”

“She’s Tessa’s sister, she works at the Pizza Hut. Tessa is my friend.”

“Okay, so you went and saw Jessie at the Pizza Hut,” I prompt her.

This time she shakes her head, looking confused.

“I don’t think I did. I remember seeing the Pizza Hut sign when I cut through the gas station, but I don’t recall going inside.”

“Gas station?” I echo, all my senses on full alert.

“Yeah, the Exxon. It’s right across the street. The last thing I remember is passing the ice cooler on the side of the gas station when this white truck pulled up and blocked my path, so I had to go around it.”

I can barely contain my excitement, but I want to make sure. “A white truck, like a pickup truck?”

“No. Bigger. Like one of those delivery trucks.”

Bingo.

Fifteen

Dan

“Looking good.”

Thomas hands back my phone.

I’d taken a few pictures of the progress at the house so he could see. Once I have water and electricity up and going, I’ll have to take him over to watch a sunset with me.

That’s one thing I’m definitely going to miss about living here, sharing an after-dinner drink on the porch with the old man.

It’s a habit we got into after Mom passed away. After years of looking after my mother, suddenly the nights became lonely. One night I was wandering around the ranch, looking for something to do, rather than spending another evening in deafening silence, when Thomas called me over. He’d been watching me, sitting on the porch, smoking his clandestine cigar and sipping his daily glass of whiskey.

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