Chapter 10 #2
A case file glowed on the screen. Multiple incidents, four separate claimants, property damage claims that contradicted each other in ways that suggested fraud, but couldn't prove it outright. It was work that required careful attention and meticulous documentation.
Rush job. Triple rate. Due by nine tomorrow morning.
I didn't mind. Rush jobs had kept me afloat these past months. More than that, they built a reputation. Word got around in the industry, Thomas Harmon delivers clean work fast, Thomas Harmon can be trusted with the complicated cases.
I sipped the coffee. It was bitter and strong.
I'd need the caffeine. Long night ahead, but tomorrow I could sleep late in the soft bed of the trailer instead of the camping cot.
Maybe I'd even think about getting proper furniture soon.
A bed frame. A proper table. Things that said I planned to stay.
A rustling came from behind the cabin.
I set the laptop aside carefully and stood. Listened. More rustling. Something moving through the brush.
Please don't be a bear.
I grabbed the lantern and walked around the corner and stopped.
A light bobbed down through the trees, a flashlight beam swinging in a steady rhythm. Then I saw her. Scout, blonde ponytail catching the reflected glow, moving through the woods.
"Scout?"
She looked up. The beam swung toward me and then dropped. Shy pleasure flashed across her face when I called her Scout, quick and unmistakable.
"Thomas."
"Everything okay?"
"Yes." She hesitated. "I wanted to ask if I could watch Wuthering Heights now. If it's okay with you."
I blinked. I hadn't expected that.
"Of course you can. I can't stream it to my laptop because I'm working on it, but you're welcome to watch it on the TV in my trailer."
"Thank you."
I led her across the clearing to the Airstream. I opened the door and held it for her. She stepped inside and looked around.
The compact kitchen. The bench seating that converted to a guest bed. The built-in storage. The mounted TV across from the table.
"This is very nice," she said.
"I lived in it for two years after I left my wife."
"Where did your wife live?"
"In our house. I let her have the house and most everything else in exchange for no spousal support. Clean break. The trailer and the truck were the only things I kept. Things Sybil didn't want anyway."
Scout nodded. Didn't ask more questions, just absorbed the information.
"Okay. Let's get you situated."
I turned on the TV and launched the Classic Movies app. I found Wuthering Heights quickly. The 1939 version with Laurence Olivier.
"Here." I handed her the remote and hesitated. "Do you know how to use it?"
"I do. Father and I watch documentaries at the library sometimes. Mrs. Kohler has a television in the back room."
She pressed play. The opening credits rolled. Dramatic orchestral music swelled.
"I'll be on the porch working if you need anything."
She nodded without looking at me, already entranced. The black and white images reflected in her eyes.
I left her there and returned to my laptop. I glanced back at the trailer and saw the TV light flicker against the window. Faint sounds of dialogue and music drifted across the clearing.
I settled into the work. Cross-referenced incident reports.
Built timeline documentation. Highlighted inconsistencies that needed further investigation.
The tedious, detailed labor that most adjusters hated but that I'd learned to appreciate.
There was satisfaction in unraveling a complicated mess and finding the truth buried under layers of competing stories.
Two hours later, the trailer door opened.
Scout emerged slowly. She walked toward me with her head down.
I looked up and closed the laptop.
"How'd you like the film?"
She raised her head. I saw the tears immediately. Her eyes were red, her cheeks wet.
"Thank you for letting me watch it, Thomas."
Her voice came out quiet and thick.
"You're welcome, Scout. Are you okay?"
"Yes. I just... It was very moving."
"I'm glad you liked it. You're welcome to come watch movies anytime you want."
She stood there, hesitating. Like she wanted to say something more, but couldn't find the words.
Then she leaned forward quickly and kissed my cheek. Soft and brief and startling.
"Goodbye."
She turned and ran. Not walked. Ran. The flashlight beam bouncing wildly as she disappeared into the trees.
I stood there with my hand on my cheek, watching the light bob up the northern slope until it vanished completely into the darkness.
The night settled around me. Crickets, a distant owl. The smell of fir and cedar on the cooling air.
I touched my cheek again. The young woman who had stripped naked in front of me so confidently, now reduced to tears by an old movie?
She's a different kind of girl, for sure.
I sat back down and opened my laptop. The case file glowed on the screen. Work that needed finishing. A deadline that wouldn't wait.
But I kept glancing at the spot where Scout disappeared. Kept seeing those tear-bright eyes. Kept feeling that brief, startling kiss.
I forced myself to focus on the work.
It took a long time.