Page 11 of With You

“Go ahead and pull through, I’ll lock up behind you then we can drive up to the main house. It’s too far to walk,” Baz said after introducing himself to Roe.

We got back into the car and drove over the loud cattle guard when Baz waved us through. Then we watched in the mirrors while he closed the gate and reattached the chain and padlock.

“Guess we won’t be leaving without his help,” Roe said wryly.

“I don’t think we have anything to worry about. He had plenty of opportunities to take us out already if that was his intention.”

“Unless he’s a serial killer and he doesn’t want to have to drag our unconscious bodies all the way back. We may be doing all the work for him by walking right into his death house.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Just make sure you look out for things like trap doors and scratch marks on the floorboards. Weird smells, too, it’s never rotten food, if you know what I mean.” Roe’s manic gaze looked from me to Baz as his truck made a wide turn and drove past us.

“What’s wrong with you? Even if he was planning on murdering us, I’d like to think that we could overpower him. You may spend most of your time fighting from behind a screen but don’t forget you’re a Marine, Ross.”

He may be a nerd but he was an elite nerd. I think Roe forgot sometimes that he wasn’t the same skinny boy who got his ass kicked at basic training so long ago. He had the same level of combat skills as the rest of us and wouldn’t be easily taken down in a fair fight.

“Oorah,” Roe held up his fist and I bumped it with my own.

If Thompson’s home was a death house, then it was disguised well. A maintained, if a little dated, brick ranch-style house was surrounded by fenced in pastures. A herd of cattle were grazing nearby and I saw a horse galloping around in a paddock on my right. It was like something out of a kids’ picture book and I wondered if he took care of all of this on his own. If so, it had to be lonely.

“If he offers you something to drink, don’t take it unless he drinks first.”

I rolled my eyes again and stepped out of the car. Baz had parked under a little carport attached to his home and a gigantic mound of fur was running up to him. The dog pushed against his side playfully, making Baz wince when he had to take a step back on his bad leg.

“This is Dog,” he tilted his head toward the animal that looked more like a small, fluffy lion than a dog.

“You named your dog, ‘Dog’?” I smiled as Dog trotted over to me when I said the name and bent down so that I could pet its heavy fur.

“Yeah, she just showed up on the ranch one day. I kept referring to her as ‘the dog,’ not wanting to give her a name if she already had one from her proper owners. But, nobody ever came looking for her and the name kind of stuck even though it wasn’t supposed to.”

Dog licked my face and I scratched behind her ears as a thank you. I’d always wanted a pet growing up, unfortunately we moved around too much and never really settled anywhere long enough to get one. Dog lifted her paws and they landed in the center of my chest, knocking me backward into the dirt. Laughing as she attacked me with her big slobbery tongue, I looked to Roe for backup, the words sticking to my tongue.

He was smiling, his gaze full of affection and something else I wasn’t ready to delve into when we were supposed to be working. Gently pushing Dog away, I took Roe’s offered hand and stood up, attempting to brush most of the dirt off my black jeans, the one weakness to my favorite color. Maybe the hotel had a laundry room I could use later.

“Come on inside,” Baz patted his leg and Dog followed.

“Remember, smells and scratch marks,” Roe whispered in my ear and a not so unpleasant shiver went through me.

“Idiot,” I muttered, shoving him away to hide my reaction.

I went through the door after Baz and entered a small but tidy kitchen. Dog was lapping away noisily at a bowl of water next to the refrigerator. Her owner’s back was to us as he stood at the counter. He opened a cabinet and pulled down three glasses, then proceeded to fill them from an old plastic pitcher decorated in faded fruit.

“Lemonade?” he asked when he turned, holding out a clear glass of pink liquid. I found it comical that this giant Marine who seemingly lived alone with no company but a dog, drank pink lemonade.

“Sure, thanks, Baz,” I took the glass from his offered hand and made eye contact with Roe as I took a large sip. “Mmm, delicious.”

Baz held out a second glass to Roe and he took it reluctantly. He eyed me one last time and then took the tiniest sip. When Baz turned back to the counter, I clutched my throat, reaching out a hand toward Roe dramatically. His eyes widened and then narrowed at me when I started laughing silently.

“It’s not poisoned,” Baz said, still turned away from us. “I’d never waste good lemonade on that. If I was going to poison you it would be in the sweet tea, the lemons help conceal the bitter taste. Either of you care for an Arnold Palmer?” He poured the brown liquid into his own glass of lemonade then stirred the drink with a long spoon, popping it into his mouth after.

“You’re all right, Thompson. I can appreciate a good joke.” Roe clapped Baz on the shoulder and the larger man looked down at his hand sternly until Roe removed it, closing his fist as he pulled away.

“Let’s go to the porch, we can talk out there.”

Baz led us through an archway into another room that looked like it was the main living space. There was a huge TV hung above the fireplace, the only piece of technology from the current century I’d seen so far. I was a little surprised Baz had chosen this place for his home. Sure, the land was gorgeous but the house itself was much too small for someone his size. He and Roe had both needed to duck as they went through each door.

The furniture was sparse, a small couch and a singular recliner looked like they’d seen better days. Yet, the stunning live edge coffee table they surrounded was smooth and clean. It stood out amongst the worn furniture, polished to a shine and not a single knick-knack or magazine hid the unique design.

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