Dave Branson swung his truck out of the heavily wooded area and out onto the gravel road with barely a glance in either direction. The road was seldom traveled by locals because it was far enough out of town to not be worth anyone’s time. No businesses to attract attention, no side roads to draw traffic and certainly no upkeep ever done on the road itself since it was so rarely used by the townspeople. That suited him just fine. The fewer people who knew he was out here the better. He grimaced at the jarring pounding his truck was taking from the washboard condition of the road and eased off the gas. He couldn’t afford repairs and didn’t dare go into town any more often than absolutely necessary.
He glanced into his rearview mirror out of habit and squinted to see through the dust he’d kicked up. What was that in the far distance? It looked like a couple kids walking down the edge of the road. He couldn’t stop, didn’t dare back up or he’d draw unwanted attention to himself. Maybe they were just going fishing out at the river nearby? Concern nagged at him though. Why were they out here? And had they seen him pull out of the woods from his hiding place? He didn’t want them wandering into the woods and finding the cabin he’d been using. Not like there was much there that would reveal anything about him. But that useless dog was still in the cellar . . . if she was still alive. He’d planned on checking on her before he left but had forgotten and it was too late now. He’d have to take care of that when he got back.
He shook his head and berated himself for making a foolish mistake that could cause trouble. If the dog heard kids goofing around in the woods, she might start barking and draw them to her. He’d have to come up with some kind of story to explain why he was out here. He made a mental note to work on that as the road ahead curved and the image of the kids in his rearview mirror disappeared in the distance.
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish