Bitch: Puncture (book 2)

I wracked my brain.

Arlene had just pulled over and gotten out to speak with the sheriff. I considered bolting out the door, it was unlatched, but I’d knew we’d be very visible running from the rig. There was no tree cover for at least 10 yards. I breathed slowly and concentrated on listening.

I had no idea what we could do differently. Again I was frustrated with my lack of control in the world of humans. It seemed as if our paths were set. We continued to circle the same things which made me think that the answer was right in front of us and we just needed to see things more clearly. Funny, I realized that I no longer considered myself part of that world of humans. My thinking was changing, rewiring for my new reality.

This sheriff deputy was nice, at least that’s what Arlene said as she drove back to the Oso Creek sheriff’s station. The creepy sheriff, had decided that he had more questions. Also the local tribal police chief wanted to talk to Arlene as well. Apparently Chris and I had been on Indian reservation land when we disappeared and since Chris was part native American. Not enough for him to be considered part of the tribe, but they were proud of anyone who was on an upward trajectory who had any native American blood. The local football star was Indian as far as they were concerned at least when it came to the investigation. And this sheriff’s deputy promised to “hang around to make sure everything was a-ok”. So Arlene had calmed down a bit as she drove extra carefully back to town.

When we arrived Arlene crouched down to look at Apoc and I in the eye while she said, “Okay you two, I need you to be good. They don’t know about you at this point... and I’d like to keep it that way. Something about this whole thing still is off to me...” She put her hand out and then realized what she’d done and froze, Apoc sniffed it perfunctorily. Slowly she reached out and she stroked his head “So, I’m going to leave the side windows open for the breeze, and if, heaven forbid, you need to get out - take care of each other. She needs you, nobody can survive something like this alone. And you,” she said putting her other hand on my head, “you take care of him too. He may not know it, but he needs you too. I can see that you care about each other, just remember we’re always stronger together. Lord hear our prayers.” She put her finger to her lips in a quiet motion.

Arlene slid the side windows open, took a deep breath, and stepped out. She explained that she had a house cat on the bus and Miss Cleo needed fresh air. We heard her voice drift away as she spoke with the deputy. He talked to her about her mini-bus rig. Apparently he and his girlfriend liked to camp, but the girlfriend liked to sleep out of the elements. Something about ‘glamping’, but the rest of his words drifted away on the breeze.

They walked inside. I peeked out the windows, but it was a quiet day in a quiet town. Two police cruisers and the mini-bus in an almost empty lot. A nice crisp early spring breeze was blowing, and the greasy spoon diner up the street was cooking up fatty hamburgers and the stink of old fry oil wafted in as well. The tiny bakery beyond that had lovely yeasty smells coming down the street. And there was the smell of warm sugar frosting and hints of cinnamon and chocolate. The traffic ebbed and flowed slowly on main street. A tractor muttered down a side street its field discing attachment raised at a sharp angle.

A few minutes later the portly tribal police chief and his deputy showed up in a shiny cruiser and walked inside after a quick smoke.