All Rhodes Lead Here Read online

  Nothing about his expression changed.

  I didn’t let him get me down as he closed the door and then headed down the hallway toward the living area, aiming straight for the table again. I set the plate down in the middle, Amos’s gift next to it, and watched as he pulled out the same chair I’d sat in the night before, then taking out the same one he’d been in and settling into it.

  Maybe he wasn’t Mr. Warm and Fuzzy, but he had some manners.

  I beamed at him as I took the seat and plopped the notebook down before pulling my green pen out. “Thank you for letting me come over again.”

  “I owe you, don’t I?” he asked, eyeing the round object wrapped in white tissue paper critically.

  Could I tell him what it was? Sure. Was I going to? Not unless he asked.

  “That’s what you keep saying, and I sure could use your help, so I’m going to take advantage of it.” I winked at him before I could stop myself, and fortunately he didn’t frown. Instead, he just pretended I hadn’t.

  Smoothing out the page I’d left off on with my notes the day before, I scooted my chair in a little closer. “I have a million other questions.”

  “You’ve got twenty-nine minutes.”

  “Thank you for keeping track,” I joked, not letting him get me down.

  He just kept right on looking at me with those purplish-gray eyes as he crossed his arms over his chest.

  He really did have some impressive biceps and forearms. When the hell did he work out?

  I stopped thinking about his arms. “Okay, so… camping. Do you know what the hell a tent hammock is?”

  Mr. Rhodes didn’t even blink. “A tent hammock?”

  I nodded.

  “Yes, I know what a tent hammock is.” He might as well have called me Captain Obvious from his tone of voice.

  I eyed the cookies for a second and snatched one up. “How do you use one? What kind of trees do you hook them up to? Are they practical?” I paused. “Do you camp?”

  He didn’t answer my question about whether he camped or not, but he did listen to my other questions. “You put the hammock between two sturdy trees,” he offered. “Personally, I don’t think they’re practical. There’s a lot of wildlife around here. Last thing you want is waking up to a bear sniffing around your site because most people don’t know how to properly put their food away, and even with a good mummy bag”—what was a mummy bag?—“the rest of you is going to be too cold most of the year. There’s only about two good months here you could pull one off. Depends on where you’re going camping too. I’ve been up at 14,000 feet in June before with layers on early in the morning.”

  “In June?” I gasped.

  That chin with its cute cleft dipped.

  “Where?”

  “Some of the peaks. Some passes.”

  I was going to need to ask for specifics. Maybe later once I was walking out. “So hammock tents are no good?”

  “Seem like a waste of money to me. I’d say get a tent instead and a good pad. But if someone’s got the money to throw away, go for it. Like I said, bears are curious. They’ll run, but after you, each scare the hell out of each other.”

  I really needed to get some bear spray. And never let my aunt find out about curious bears. She had started sending me texts about mountain lions now.

  “What kind of bears are there?”

  “Black bears, but they aren’t always that color. There’s a lot with brown and cinnamon fur around here.”

  I swallowed. “Grizzlies?”

  He blinked, and I think I might have seen part of his mouth quiver a little. “Not since the 70s.”

  I didn’t mean to, but I whistled in relief, then laughed. “So tent hammocks are stupid unless you really want to use them and have the money to spend and are willing to put your life at risk. Got it.” I scribbled down part of it, even though I doubted I’d forget. “So tents….”

  He sighed.

  “Okay, we don’t have to talk about tents if you don’t want to. Where do you recommend going camping? If you wanted to see animals?”

  Mr. Rhodes ran a hand through his short, salt and brown pepper hair once before crossing his arms over his wide chest again, bringing to attention the way his pecs were squeezed together on his lean chest.

  How old was he?

  “This is southwest Colorado. You can go camping in your backyard and see a fox.”

  “But other than a backyard, where? Within an hour from here?”

  His hand slid to his cheek, and he rubbed the short bristles there. I bet he had to shave twice a day—not that it was any of my business to wonder.

  Mr. Rhodes went into a description of several marked trails close to water sources. He stopped to think a couple times, and a little notch formed between his eyebrows as he did. He was handsome.

  And he was my landlord. A grumpy—or distrustful—one at that, who didn’t want me hanging around and was only being nice because I’d taken his son to the hospital. Well, there were worse ways to get to know people.

  He suddenly said a name that made my hand pause over the paper.

  “It’s not well-marked, and it’s difficult, but if someone has experience, they can do it.”

  A knot formed in my throat, and I had to glance down at my notebook as discomfort lanced me straight through my chest. A beautiful, perfect arrow with a jagged arrowhead.

  “Need me to spell it out for you?” he asked when I hadn’t responded to him.

  I pressed my lips together and shook my head before glancing up, focusing on his chin instead of his eyes. “No, I know how to spell it.” But I still didn’t write down the name. Instead, I asked, “And all the rest of these are close to water you said?” That was exactly what he’d said, but it was the first thing I thought of to change the subject.

  He didn’t want to hear about how well I knew that hike.

  “Yes,” he confirmed, stretching the word out in a weird way.

  I kept my attention down. “Do you and Amos go camping a lot?” I asked.

  “No,” he answered, his attention a little too focused, that crease still there. “Amos isn’t into the outdoors.”

  “Some people aren’t,” I said, even though it was a little funny that he lived in one of the most beautiful places on Earth and didn’t care for it. “So—”

  “Why are you here?”

  I froze, surprised he was curious. I wanted to glance at my watch—I really did have a lot of things I wanted to know—but if he was asking… well, I’d answer. “I used to live here as a kid, but I had to move away a long time ago. I… got a divorce and didn’t really have anywhere else to go, so I decided to come back.” I smiled at him and shrugged like everything that had happened was no big deal, when they had been the two biggest events of my life. They’d been the dynamite that restructured my entire existence.

  “Denver is more most people’s style.”

  “Most people, sure, but I don’t want to live in a city. My life was really hectic for a long time, and I like the slower pace. I forgot how much I love the outdoors. The clean air. My mom used to love it here. When I think about home, it’s here, even twenty years later,” I told him honestly before plopping the rest of the cookie in my mouth and chewing it quickly. When I was done, I kept going. “I don’t know if I will end up staying forever, but I’d like to try. If it doesn’t work out, then it doesn’t work out. I just want to try my best in the meantime.” Which reminded me again that I needed to look for some other place to stay. I hadn’t had any luck searching so far, and part of me hoped someone would cancel their reservation at the last minute.

  For a long time, I’d thought I was pretty damn lucky. My mom used to say all the time how lucky she was, for everything. Every occasion. Even when things went wrong.

  She saw the best in everything. A flat tire? Maybe we would have gotten into an accident if we hadn’t stopped. Someone stole her wallet? They needed the money more, and at least she had a job and could make more! The highs wi
th her had always been so high. Now, more often than not—and especially when I felt down—I felt more like I was cursed. Or maybe my mom had taken all my luck with her.

  Mr. Rhodes stayed leaned back in his chair, lines back across his forehead, watching me. Still not in that way I mostly ignored from other people, but with that raccoon did-I-have-rabies-or-not face.

  “Are you from here?” I asked, even though Clara had told me earlier.

  All he said was “yes,” and I knew that was all I was going to get. Well, that wasn’t going to tell me how old he was. Oh well. Maybe I could ask her in some subtle, sneaky way.

  “Back to camping then… do any of these places have fishing?”

  * * *

  “Time is up,” he said at eight o’clock on the dot, focusing on the top of his right hand, which was resting on the table.

  How the hell had he known what time it was? I’d been watching him; he hadn’t looked at the heavy watch on his left wrist or at his phone. I didn’t even know where his phone was. It wasn’t on the table like mine.

  I smiled as I closed up my notebook and clipped my pen to the front cover. I picked up another cookie and bit off half. “Thank you so much for the help,” I said as I pushed the chair back.

  He grunted, still not sounding like it was what he would have picked to do today. But he had.

  “Hi, Aurora,” another voice spoke up suddenly.

  Glancing over my shoulder, I noticed Amos making his way into the kitchen, a vase full of flowers in his hands, his big T-shirt covering everything until halfway down the baggy basketball shorts he had on. “Hey. How are you?”

  “Fine.” He came to a stop beside the chair his dad was in. I didn’t miss the quick glance he shot the man before focusing back on me. “How are you?” he asked slowly, like he felt awkward.

  It just made me like him more. I grinned. “Fine. Your dad was just helping me again.” I eyed the mixed bouquet of pink and purple flowers. “Those are pretty.”

  Amos held them out. “They’re for you. From my mom and dad. Thank you for taking me to the hospital.”

  “Oh.” I took the vase and was surprised at how heavy it was. “Thank you so much. They’re beautiful. You didn’t have to do that, Mr. Rhodes.”

  I didn’t see Mr. Rhodes’s face or Amos’s because I was too busy looking at the arrangement, but it was the teenage boy who said, “No, my other dad.”

  “Ohhh.” I glanced up at him. Where were they? I wondered. His mom and other dad? “Tell them I said thank you. I love them. And they’re very welcome for taking you. I’d say any time, but I hope not.”

  Neither one of them said anything.

  But I remembered what Clara had told me earlier as I set the vase down on my thighs and peered at the teenager. “I got something for you too, actually.” I picked up the crystal from the table and held it out to him. “You might have been too out of it to remember, but I called my friend before we went to the hospital, and anyway, she sent this. She said it promotes healing and to put it on your left. She hopes you feel better.”

  His eyebrows rose steadily with each word out of my mouth, but he ended it with a nod, not unwrapping it or anything. I figured he’d do it in the privacy of his room, I guess. “Hey, did you know I work with Jackie?” I asked him.

  Amos nodded, still holding his gift and testing the weight.

  “I didn’t know that you knew each other. Clara said you’re best friends.” I paused.

  “Yeah,” he answered in that quiet voice of his before slipping the gift into his pocket. “We play together. Music.”

  “Really?” I asked. She hadn’t said a word about music, but then again, we only talked about work when we chatted. Twice we’d talked about movies, but that was the extent of our relationship. She just always seemed really hesitant around me, and I hadn’t figured out why.

  “She plays guitar too,” he added, almost shyly.

  “I had no idea.”

  “We play in the garage when I’m not in trouble.” He shot his dad a pointed look that the older man didn’t see, and I had to force myself to keep a straight face so he wouldn’t catch on either.

  “He plays the blues,” Mr. Rhodes threw in. “But he doesn’t like to play in front of other people.”

  “Dad,” the kid scoffed, his cheeks going straight to red.

  I tried to give him an encouraging smile. “It’s hard to play in front of other people, thinking of how they’re judging you. But the best thing to do is not care what they think or if you mess up. Everybody messes up. Every time. No one is ever flawless, and most people are tone deaf and can’t hear a flat note if you poked them with it.”

  The kid shrugged, obviously still embarrassed his dad had ratted him out, but I thought it was cute.

  Mr. Rhodes wouldn’t have said anything if it didn’t please him to a point.

  “Exactly, Am. Who gives a shit what other people think?” Mr. Rhodes egged him on, surprising me again.

  “You’re always correcting me every time you come hear us,” he muttered, face still flamed.

  I bit back a smile. “I know a lot of musicians, and honestly, most of them—not all of them—but most of them like it when people are honest and correct them. They’d rather know they’re doing something wrong, so that they can make a correction and not keep making the same mistake over and over again. That’s how everyone gets better, but I know it sucks. That’s why I’m here bothering your dad. Because I’m tired of being wrong at work.”

  Amos didn’t make eye contact, but he did shrug.

  I caught Mr. Rhodes’s gaze and lifted my eyebrows as I smiled at him. His stoic expression didn’t change at all, but I was pretty sure his eyes widened just a little, tiny bit.

  Amos, either not wanting to be the center of conversation anymore or in a talkative mood, placed his hand on the back of his dad’s chair and ran his fingernails along the top of it, focused on that as he asked, “Are you… doing another hike?”

  “I think I’m going to do this river trail next.”

  The boy’s gaze flicked up. “Where at?”

  “The Piedra River.” It was arguably the most popular one in the area. I tapped the tips of my fingers against the vase. “I’ll get out of your hair. Thank you again for tonight, Mr. Rhodes. Keep feeling better, Amos. Have a good night.” I gave them one more wave and headed out, neither one of them following to lock up behind me.

  It was only eight, and I wasn’t really tired yet, but I took a shower, flipped off the lights, and climbed into bed with a drink, thinking about the damn trail Mr. Rhodes brought up earlier.

  The one my mom disappeared on.

  The one that killed her.

  At least we were pretty sure that was where she had gone. One of the witnesses that the police were able to find had claimed that they’d passed her on the trail when they’d been heading out and she’d been going up. They had said that she’d looked fine, that she’d smiled and asked how they were doing.

  They were the last people to ever see her.

  This tiny, bitter ache stretched across my heart, and I had to release a deep, deep breath.

  She hadn’t left me, I reminded myself for about the millionth time over the last twenty years. I had never cared what anyone had tried to say or hint at. She hadn’t left me on purpose.

  After a moment, I pulled up my tablet and started a movie I’d downloaded the day before, and I watched it distractedly, snuggling under the single sheet I slept under. At some point, I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I knew, I woke up with the tablet on my chest and with this intense urge to pee.

  Usually, I tried to stop drinking fluids a couple hours before bed so that I wouldn’t have to wake up; I had this fear of peeing myself even though that hadn’t happened in like thirty years. But I’d sucked down a strawberry soda while I’d watched my movie.

  Now, waking up in the pitch-black studio apartment, I groaned at the pressure on my bladder and rolled up to sitting.


  It took me a second to reach around and find my phone plugged in under my pillow. I yawned as I took it off and tapped at the screen as I stood up, turning on the flashlight feature to get into the bathroom. I stumbled in on another yawn, not turning on the light so that I wouldn’t wake myself up, and used it, peeing what felt like a gallon out, then washing my hands.

  I was yawning all the way back, blinking at the faint light of the microwave’s clock and adjusting to the moonlight that came in through the windows that were constantly cracked.

  And that was when I felt the whoosh over my head.

  I yawned again, confused, and lifted my hand, trying to cast the beam of light from my phone upward.

  Out of the corner of my eye, something flew.

  I ducked.

  The flying thing did a turn in flight and came right fucking at me.

  I screamed as I threw myself to the ground and, swear to God on my life, felt it go inches above my head.

  Right beside the bed, I yanked on the thin blanket I kept by my feet because it was too warm to cover myself completely with it and covered my head as I blinked up and tried to look for what I was pretty sure was a bat because a fucking bird couldn’t be that fast.

  Could it? Could one have snuck in while I’d opened and closed the door? Wouldn’t I have noticed? There was a screen on the window, so it couldn’t have gotten in through there.

  I crawled toward the wall where the light switch was on my hands and knees. “What the hell?” I liked to think I said but was pretty sure I shrieked as I lifted my hand just enough to feel the switch and flip it, the overhead lights illuminating the living room.

  Confirming my worst nightmare.

  Yeah, it was a fucking bat swooping.

  “What the fuck!” I pressed my back even more against the wall.

  What kind of bullshit was this?

  Had I been sleeping in this damn room with it every night? Had he been landing on my face? Pooping on me? What did bat poop even look like? I’d seen some dark shapes on the floor, but I’d assumed they were mud off my shoes.

  The bat dropped in height as it flew… and it came right toward me again, or at least it looked like it did.