Page 61 of In Every Lifetime
Sarah opened the passenger door and sat down, groaning as her exhausted muscles finally began to relax.
“Will you look in there?” I asked, pointing to the glove box.
She nodded, pulling the latch and letting it fall with a clang. I continued to search for the keys, feeling under the dash and the seat, even pulling down the passenger-side visor, but I still came up empty.
“Nothing in here,” Sarah mumbled. “Just some napkins and tools.”
“What kind of tools?” I asked, feeling another spark of hope.
She glanced at me, confused, and rifled through the glove box. “A couple of screwdrivers, some pliers, a knife, a hammer, and some nails.”
I smiled and reached out to her. “Hand me the knife and a screwdriver.”
She handed over the requested items. “What are you going to do?”
I took the tools, placing the knife on the seat between my legs and shoving the screwdriver into the ignition. Sarah gasped in shock at the action, and I turned to her with a smirk. “Remember how I was a foster kid on the streets of Chicago?”
Her brows shot up. “You know how to hot-wire a car?”
I nodded, prying the cover off the steering column to reveal the necessary cables. I pulled the power cables, cutting them both and twisting them together.
“Learned when I was way too young. I have a few other random skills like this up my sleeve,” I explained as I repeated the process with the starter cables. Instead of twisting them, I tapped them together lightly, and the engine roared to life.
“Did you really forget you were technically married to a delinquent?" I asked with a playful wink, the adrenaline from getting the truck started coursing through me.
Sarah laughed lightly. “You know what? I guess I did.”
“Let’s get out of here.” I put the truck in reverse and backed out of the driveway, heading onto the main road toward what I hoped would be actual help.
“To confirm, the name you were given was Gabriel Gomez?” the sheriff of the small town asked. Sarah and I had made the drive to the police station quickly and silently. I didn’t know what to say to her.
What do you say to your ex-wife after you had sex with her in the middle of the woods?
I couldn’t find it in me to apologize because I wasn’t sorry. I wanted her just as much as she wanted me, but it was all too complicated. We were divorced, for heaven’s sake. We couldn’t just pick up where we left off; we had both signed the papers that made that impossible. I was spiraling. Every part of me wanted to turn to alcohol, and I fought the urge with every cell of my being.
Sarah and I were met with many confused looks when we wandered into the station. We were both filthy and covered in dirt, with no shoes and only muddy, holey socks—looking as though we had survived hell.
After the receptionist’s initial shock, the whole station was up and helping. I was beginning to realize not much happened inthis town. We were the most exciting thing here. Two officers were already at the property, which they found was completely empty.
Not just empty of Gabriel, but of everything. There was no sign of him or his belongings. My truck was gone, and our luggage was missing as well. It was as if Gabriel had vanished without a trace.
It also left Sarah and me without… anything. We only had what was on our persons when we fled. That left Sarah with a beat-up pair of leggings and a long-sleeved shirt, and my hoodie. I had my jeans, shirt, and various knick-knacks from my pockets—including my sobriety chip and my worthless wedding ring.
Luckily, the kind officers gave us some clean clothes they had managed to scrounge up. I wore a Montana sweatshirt with gray sweatpants, while Sarah matched the top, trading her mud-caked clothes for black leggings.
“What happens now?” Sarah asked, her hands wrapped around a mug of coffee. We were both exhausted and ready to be home but had no idea how to get there—not without my truck, our wallets, or any money. We were, for all intents and purposes, stranded.
The sheriff sighed and leaned back in his chair. “We’ll keep investigating, file the necessary reports, and figure out who the hell this Gabriel Gomez is. While we do that, you two go home. To Oregon, right?”
I nodded and scrubbed a hand across my jaw. “There is really nothing left over there? Not even in the office?”
The sheriff shook his head. “We’ll do another sweep, but so far, nothing.”
“Can I use your phone?” Sarah interjected suddenly, turning to me. “I bet I can get Will to send a plane to pick us up. Wait!” She turned back to the sheriff. “Do you have an airport or landing strip nearby?”
He looked confused but nodded, instructing Sarah to work with the receptionist to make the necessary arrangements. I was grateful to have a way home but apprehensive about leaving without any answers.
“So you’ll keep looking into it? Trying to find him?” It felt wrong to go back to life while this man was still out there.
