Chapter Thirty-Four
Jake slowed as he approached the corner of Orchard Lane and Privett, headlights sweeping across the reflective sheen of the water.
County traffic barriers stood in a crooked line, barely visible in the dark, orange cones and sawhorses sagging under the weight of relentless drizzle, reflective circles first bright, then dark.
Water pooled thick and black across the road, rippling with the wind.
He couldn’t see how deep it was, but based on the water at the base of the closest sawhorse, it was about a foot deep.
He could drive through a foot of water in his truck, but he didn’t know if it was deeper farther down.
Probably. The county didn’t throw up those signs for nothing.
He cursed under his breath. Home was less than a mile down that road.
He could almost see it—lights, dry clothes, warm bed.
But not at this risk. Not with Bobby sleeping slumped against the passenger door, arms curled around his ribs.
And they couldn’t exactly walk when Bobby had no shoes, especially when they couldn’t see what they were stepping on.
Jake eased off the gas and kept going straight, then a quarter mile up the road he turned sharply onto a long, waterlogged gravel drive that disappeared into a wall of pines.
Uncle Travis’s place.
He hoped his uncle was sober. He didn’t want to get into a fight with the man. He already felt bad about their conversation earlier today, when Travis wanted to help and Jake said no.
The headlights bounced as the truck rattled over potholes and splashed in pools of water.
He drove through one low spot where the water splashed up and covered his windows.
He was lucky he didn’t stall out. Then the old farmhouse came into view—porch light on, almost inviting.
Jake cut the engine and sat for a moment, watching the flickering light from the kitchen window, willing the rain to stop.
It had slowed, but was still falling in a steady mist. What did it matter?
He was still wet from getting out when he found the Mendozas’ truck—and didn’t find Avery.
Jake reached over and gently shook Bobby awake. “Hey, bud. We’re at Uncle Travis’s. Orchard is blocked off by the county.”
Bobby blinked groggily, then looked around. “Uncle Travis?” he repeated.
Jake nodded. “Yeah. Come on, I’ll carry you.”
Jake carried Bobby up the porch steps. Travis answered after one knock, rubbing his face with a towel, dressed in an old flannel shirt and jeans.
He looked alert and clean—he’d even trimmed his beard, which was redder than his brown head of hair.
He wasn’t the disheveled drunk Jake usually thought of when he pictured his uncle.
“Jake,” Travis said with a quiet surprise. “Didn’t expect— Come in. What happened? Come, get outta the rain.”
Inside, the place was cleaner than Jake had ever seen it, at least since his great-grandmother had lived here. No open bottles on the counter. No smell of stale beer or whiskey. Travis must’ve seen the look on his face because he offered a small smile.
“Yeah,” he said. “I cleaned up.”
“You’re sober,” Jake said bluntly. He smelled coffee now, and bacon and eggs—Uncle Travis always did like breakfast for dinner.
“I am tonight. And hopefully tomorrow.” Travis stared him in the eye. “I’m going to try and stay sober. I dumped out all the whiskey, and since there’s no getting to the store in the next day or two, it’s a start.” He glanced at Bobby, “Hey, I heard you were looking for a black-and-white cat.”
Bobby nodded sleepily. “Cleo.”
“Pregnant, right?”
“Yeah. She ran away during the hailstorm Saturday night. I’m worried about her, so if you can look for her tomorrow?” he added hopefully.
“Well, I think I found her. Look in the pantry, but slowly. Don’t spook her.”
Bobby’s eyes widened, and with more energy than he had since Jake found him that afternoon, he half ran, half limped through the kitchen and then slowly opened the pantry door. He peered inside, then he closed it quietly and turned around, a huge grin on his face. “You found her! She has kittens!”
“Four,” Travis said. “She had them at the bottom of the stairs leading to the cellar. And I can’t take the credit, Titan found her and alerted me.”
Bobby sat in the kitchen chair and said, “I was so worried, but I knew she was a smart cat. I knew she would find a safe place!”
Jake glanced at Travis. The bottom of the stairs wouldn’t have been safe during this storm, the cellar had a pump, but with rain like this, it would have deep standing water until the pump could catch up.
“I’m glad I found her in time,” Travis said. “You got no shoes on, kid. Look at your feet.”
“I lost them in the mud when I was running from the bad woman.”
Travis looked at Jake. “What?”
“Long story,” Jake said. “Bobby, your feet are a mess.” They were caked with mud, appeared to have cuts all over them, and one toe was bleeding quite a bit. Jake was surprised he could walk at all.
“Come on, kid,” Travis said, “I’ll clean you up.”
Jake carried his brother into the bathroom. While Travis gently cleaned and bandaged Bobby’s feet, Jake told him what happened that day. He hadn’t intended to share, but Jake needed help—and sober Uncle Travis was a lot smarter and more dependable than drunk Uncle Travis.
When Travis was done cleaning Bobby’s wounds, he handed Bobby a T-shirt to change into; the faded army shirt went to his knees.
Jake carried Bobby to the couch. Timber looked up and licked the air, as if greeting him.
Titan jumped onto the couch and lay down with Bobby.
Travis spread out an old handmade quilt, and Bobby happily petted Titan.
“I need to call Mom,” Jake said. “Cells have no reception right now, and the radio died.”
Travis handed him the house phone, and Jake dialed home. It rang once. Then again. And again.
No answer.
Not even the machine.
He hung up and tried again. Same result.
“The lines must be down,” Jake said as he hung up, his gut twisted at all the things that could be wrong at his house. “Can you keep an eye on him?” Jake nodded toward Bobby, his voice tight. “I need to go home, but I might have to hoof it part of the way and Bobby is in no condition to walk.”
Travis stood. “We’ll both go. I’m not gonna sit on my ass when my family might be in danger.”
“You sure?”
Travis was already pulling on his boots. The metal around his artificial leg creaked. “Bobby can stay here. Dogs’ll keep him company. If we get stuck or have to walk, we can’t leave him in the truck.”
Travis was right. Bobby sat up, clearly fine with being alone here. “I’ll be okay. I know where everything is, and I’ll take care of the dogs and Cleo.”
Jake paused, uncertain, but both Bobby and Travis seemed satisfied with this decision. He kissed the top of his brother’s head and said, “Keep the door locked, don’t open it for anyone until we get back.”
“Promise,” Bobby said. “Titan is a good watch dog, he’ll let me know if anything is wrong.”
Travis scratched Titan’s head. “That he will.”
Then Jake and Travis walked back out into the rain.
They took Jake’s truck and drove back the way he had come, reaching the county barriers in ten minutes. Rain was picking up again, falling in thick sheets, drumming against the roof of the truck. Jake got out, moved two of the barriers so he could drive through.
The road ahead disappeared into a wall of rain.
Jake gripped the wheel tighter as he cautiously drove down the deeply rutted road, water splashing under his tires.
But it wasn’t deep—no deeper than any of the other roads he’d been on today, and none of them had been barricaded off.
Were they worried about a flash flood? It had happened before.
But the thing about flash floods is that they were usually unpredictable, and there were other areas of the valley more prone to them than Whisper Creek.
Nowhere did the water reach the top of his tires.
Nothing was right about this.
When Jake got to his driveway, he knew the power was off because the light he and his dad had installed that illuminated the Whisper Creek Ranch sign was off. The generator at the house wouldn’t power any of the external lighting they put up.
He turned off his lights, keeping on only his fog lights.
“What’s wrong?” Travis said.
“Bad feeling.”
It took all his self-control to drive slowly.