Free Deception Creek by Terry Persun Page B

was going to run again, but decided not to after William died.”
    â€œI believe your mother was there at the time William was killed. That she witnessed the death. It’s also my suspicion that Jack was involved. Maybe Jack killed William.”
    â€œSo Mom’s been lying all these years? Why? Because Jack killed my father? Why lie about that?
    â€œI don’t know. I don’t even know if William’s death and Jack’s prison sentence are connected. No names, remember? I’m just guessing.”
    Scott got up. “I’m heading to bed. You can sleep in either of the other rooms.”
    â€œThanks again. I’ll sit for a while first.”
    â€œTomorrow,” Scott said. “Don’t think too much. Only adds to speculation.”
    *     *     *
    Late as usual, young Jack drove his step dad’s car through downtown Shannon. He liked the smells in the morning. Eggs and bacon from the three diners pushed into the morning air like promises. Jack made a loop through town, up Third to Campbell, then down Fourth to Market and back. He breathed deeply and thought if he had any money, he’d stop for breakfast. In fact, he’d meet Alice for breakfast some day, he promised himself, taking one of the promises from the bacon-thick air for his own use.
    Daddy-Bob’s car chugged along like the heap that it was, sputtering oil-dense exhaust into the streets. During turns Jack got a whiff of exhaust for only a second, then the scent of breakfast would take over again.
    He exited town by going up High Street to the Pine Creek Highway. He wore his good jeans and a clean shirt. The air changed temperature once he got outside of town—who needed a street sign that said, “You are now leaving Shannon”?
    Breakfast scents were gone, and water and woods scents slipped into the car with Jack. A hawk circled a field to the west, and slow clouds, lifting from the creek, had already formed into hazy tufts above the trees.
    Jack’s hormone-driven mind turned to thoughts of Alice. He pushed on faster, sorry he’d be late. His hands gripped the steering wheel and his foot came down harder on the gas pedal. His mind raced to the future and the smooth sights he’d see. He breathed heavily and his mouth became dry. Gritting his teeth, Jack bobbed his head to an invisible tune and wished he hadn’t taken that extra trip through town. What was he thinking?
    The hawk swooped into the field, landed briefly, and lifted again with something—a field mouse or vole—in its talons. The sight urged Jack’s blood into his face and hands. Anxiety and excitement merged, pushing his frustration higher. He pounded the steering wheel and made the turn at Pine Creek Road accompanied by squeals and flying gravel.
    Pine Creek Road wasn’t used as often as the new highway that borrowed its name, but the road did follow Pine Creek at the base of the mountain.
    With the windows open, the noise of rushing water took over the car, similar to the noise a train makes as you wait at the crossing. Two more turns and he’d be at the place where he could pull off the road far enough to be out of the way of local traffic.
    Alice would have walked there, starting earlier than Jack. A small trailer park was situated at the southwest corner of the old Ricket Farm. She would have walked up Ricket Run Road to Pine Creek Road.
    By now Jack was angry with himself for his tardiness. Alice had complained about it several times and he feared, this time, that it would cause them to argue instead of make love.
    â€œShit, shit, shit,” he said to the steering wheel, pounding it over and over again.
    When he saw that another car occupied his normal pull-off spot, he slowed way down and took an earlier, narrower spot near the rapids, but into some weeds.
    He couldn’t hear anything over the roar and got prickers on his pant legs from the weeds. He stopped