County Line by Bill Cameron Page B

looks at the clock again. “Am I keeping you from something?”
    “No, of course not.”
    I finish my coffee. My hand has a slight tremble when I set the cup on the coaster. “How long ago did she leave?” My voice is almost a whisper.
    “She left when Chief Nash called.”
    “Does he know she’s here?”
    “No one does, to my knowledge.”
    “Where’d she go?”
    She sighs. “She won’t be happy I told you, but we didn’t know it was you the chief was sending over. She thought someone from the old days recognized her on the road or something. I was supposed to brush them off. But it turned out to be you. Skin Kadash.”
    Her lips press together as she glances at my neck, as if for the first time, then she lets out a breath. After all these years, I’m used to the reaction, my neck cuing up a standard response in connection with my name. But just once it might be nice if someone shrugged it off.
    “You can call me Thomas if it makes you more comfortable. Or Mister Kadash is fine.”
    “No. I’m sorry. I’m feeling a little caught off guard, and let’s face it. I’m an old retired teacher. I’m not used to subterfuge.” She flashes a quick smile.
    “Why did she come back here?”
    “I don’t know exactly. She showed up, asked if she could stay for a little while. She’s told me a lot, but only of matters far away. All about her coffee shops, and her life in Portland.” When she smiles again, it’s more at ease. “She told me about you.”
    My face feels hot.
    “She goes out every day alone. Running, she claims, but I think it’s something more.”
    “Running?”
    “Along her old routes. In high school, I was more likely to see her running than sitting still.”
    “And today?”
    “Her medium run. Eleven miles.”
    “Yes, but where—”
    “It is you. Right?”
    “Me.”
    “Skin.”
    I don’t know what she means, but I know what I hope she means. “I need to find her, Mrs. Parmelee. Please, tell me where.”
    She nods, still smiling. “I’ll give you directions. She’ll be on Preble County Line Road by now.”

 
     
     
    - 12 -

    Preble County Line Road
    Pete is waiting outside. As I climb into the car, Ruby Jane’s phone rings. According to caller ID, the number is restricted. I feel a strange certainty it’s her. But when I answer, all I hear is a ticking quiet.
    “Is someone there?”
    “I know you.” The voice whispers. I can guess who it is.
    “Congratulations.” I’m not feeling patient. “What’s your next trick? Remembering your own name?”
    “I won’t let you interfere.”
    “Good for you.”
    “I’m not fucking around here.”
    I pull the phone away from my ear long enough to confirm the incoming number is restricted.
    “I don’t take orders from Captain Ambiguous.”
    The call ends.
    I drop the phone in the center console. Peter looks at me sideways from behind the wheel. I can’t read his expression, a circumstance I’m growing used to. “What was that about?”
    “No idea.” My tone has an edge. I press my lips together and face the windshield. The sunlight is bright and harsh, rimming the hickory leaves in front of Linda Parmelee’s house with a lucid halo. The breeze carries the scent of mown grass through the windows. A kid drags a backpack down the sidewalk across the street. The scritch of the bag on concrete and the call of a bird I don’t recognize are the only sounds.
    “Where are we going?”
    I don’t answer.
    “Skin—”
    “Head north out of town.”
    “Any particular route?”
    “Look around. How many routes do you think there are?”
    “Fine.”
    There’s no reason to let my apprehension boil over onto Pete, but it’s not like he’s been so easy on me the last few days. I suck in heavy air, let it out as he pulls a fast U-ey. He heads back through town, turns left and accelerates. Bucolic small town gives way to fields interrupted by narrow stands of trees almost immediately. We pass ranch houses set back from the road,