Page 7 of Thirst in the Mountains

It’s probably less than ten minutes, but it feels like a lifetime of them rummaging around my place before they leave.

Maybe they’ll think they have the wrong house?

But then I realize that’s not true. I have pictures of me and Cutter all over the place. He has a big dog bed in the living room and dog toys everywhere. They’ll know the place is mine.

And they’ll be back.

I really don’t want to leave. Not this town. Not when it’s finally starting to feel like home.

There’s only one thing I can do…

Tomorrow morning, I’ll go to the Greene Mountain Police Station and get the cops involved.

And hope for the best.

CHAPTERTHREE

Emmanuel

“Need a spot over there?” Cara asks as I lay down on the bench press.

Henry snickers. He’s sitting on the leg press, looking at his phone as usual. “Emmanuelneverneeds a spotter.”

“This is my warm-up weight,” I say as I grip the cool iron bar.

Cara lets out a low whistle as she watches me lift the bar up and down easily. I have two plates on each side for a grand total of two hundred and twenty-five pounds. I was able to lift this much weight when I was sixteen years old. I’m twenty-seven now and can go well past three hundred pounds.

She watches as I do my reps and then drop the bar back onto the frame with a clatter.

It’s a tradition in our precinct to all weight train together on Monday mornings. We have a pretty decent weight room in the back of the station considering what a small town we have. The previous Sheriff came from a rich family and he bought all of this stuff himself. We were all thrilled that he left it here when he retired.

We all make good use of it, except for maybe Henry who would rather lift a donut box than a dumbbell. He’s forty-eight, married, and two years away from retirement which he constantly reminds us of.

It’s a small station, but this town doesn’t need much. The only action we get is when the boys at The Cracked Barrel Saloon start causing trouble.

We have more than enough with me, Henry, Sheriff Ryland Gray, Cara—our rookie who went full-on traitor when she started dating the chief of the firehouse, and Santino, who mostly keeps to himself.

It’s a pretty easy gig. That’s why I’m considering leaving.

“I heard there was a brawl at the Saloon on Saturday night,” Ryland says as he walks in, stretching his arms.

“There’salwaysa brawl at the Saloon on Saturday night,” Henry says with a chuckle.

“It was a small one,” I say with a sigh as I get up and add some weight to the bar. “They fled when we rolled up.”

Cara grins at me as she does some bicep curls with the barbells. “They took one look at Emmanuel storming out of the truck and noped the fuck out.”

“Seems you’re getting a reputation,” Ryland says with a laugh. “As long as it keeps the peace.”

I slap a twenty-five pound plate on each side of the bar. I was working with Cara as my partner and was excited for some action, but as soon as we arrived, those pussies hopped on their bikes and took off. Talk about disappointment.

Santino is doing squats on the rack with his big noise-cancelling headphones on. Once he finishes his set, Ryland throws his towel at him.

“What?” Santino says, lifting his headphones.

“We’re supposed to be trainingtogether,” Ryland says. “It’s tradition.”

“I’m here,” he says, shrugging his big sweaty shoulders. “What’s the problem?”

---