Page 75 of Forever Gone

Across the football field, the maintenance van started. Headlights swept over the side of the gymnasium before turning toward the rear exit.

Selena started her car.

The dashboard lit around her, replacing the school windows with reflections across the windshield. She sat for another moment, then shifted into reverse.

There was no reason to go inside. The halls would be different. Locked doors, security desks, new photographs, new names on classroom walls. Whatever Selena had come to find would not be waiting there.

She drove toward the exit.

“I’m fine,” she said.

The words remained inside the car.

At the road, Selena turned toward the Wilson Motel. Elmsview High receded in the rear view mirror until the trees and houses hid it from view.

Ahead, the town lights marked the route through the darkening valley.

Selena hoped Connor had found better luck in his inquiries.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Darkness had swallowed the western side of Harlan County by the time Connor reached Talon Road.

The sheriff’s SUV moved through a tunnel of trees, its headlights sliding over trunks, weeds, and the broken edge of the pavement. No houses had appeared for several miles. The last porch light lay somewhere behind him, beyond two turns and a narrow bridge where the guardrail had been patched with fresh metal.

Connor held the steering wheel with one hand and the sheet from the phone company with the other.

Three sets of numbers had been printed beneath Linda Mercer’s name. Latitude. Longitude. Margin of error. The location analyst had explained that the final network contact placed her phone within a broad rural sector, then sent a more precise estimate based on the last available data. Precise still meant woods, abandoned property, and several miles of road.

Connor raised the paper toward the dashboard light.

A shape burst from the trees.

He dropped the sheet and slammed both feet against the brake.

The deer crossed in front of the hood so close that its flank filled the windshield. Hooves struck the road in a blur. The SUV shuddered beneath him, tires scraping over loose grit before the vehicle stopped at an angle across the lane.

For an instant, the deer stood beside the ditch.

Its head turned toward the headlights. A white throat, dark muzzle, and ears held rigid above its skull.

Then it bounded into the trees and vanished.

Connor kept both hands on the wheel.

His pulse hammered beneath his uniform shirt. The seat belt had locked hard across his chest. He eased one foot from the brake and listened to the engine idle.

Nothing moved beyond the windshield.

“Jesus.”

The word came out thin.

Connor shifted the SUV into park and lowered his head. The deer had missed the front bumper by inches. Another fraction of a second and it would have come through the glass or rolled beneath the wheels.

A memory rose before he could keep it down.

He had been nine when his father hit a deer on the road to his grandparents’ house.