Page 63 of Wild Embers
With the cigarette burned to the filter, I drop it into the snow and put it out with my boot.
The crunching of footsteps alerts me to Santiago's approach. “We found the partner.”
“Whose partner?” Pulling out a new cigarette from the pack in my pocket, I place the filtered end between my lips and use my lighter to ignite the other end as I take a gentle puff.
“Evan’s,” Santiago states.
“I thought he didn’t have one.” I remind him.
“He denied it, but Levi decided to dig through Evan’s phone and computer,” Santiago explains.
With a sigh, I prematurely put out my cigarette. “You and I can pick him up. Tell Levi to meet us at the cabin.”
Santiago glances around. “Did you get another car already?”
“I finished fixing up the 1985 W250,” I inform him.
Santiago dangles his keys. “I’ll drive. Wouldn’t want to get into another wreck.”
It's not a far drive to Evergreen Falls High School. The school is located just at the edge of town. The building looms there like a giant steel warehouse. The tan and navy metal siding is weathered by decades of snow, wind, and neglect. Surrounded by a patch of dead grass covered in Wyoming snow, a stone monument in front bears the school's mascot.
Santiago parks his truck along the red curb, and we stroll up the short sidewalk. The heavy front doors give way to a wide commons area filled with trophy cases and announcement posters. Championship banners hang from the rafters overhead, and decades of class photos are displayed on the walls.
Having attended here myself, just like half of the people in this town, I couldn't forget the layout of the school even if I wanted to. We veer right into the front office.
It's hard to believe that after all these years, Miss Coleman still works as the receptionist. I tip my hat to her and point further into the office, indicating our destination. She waves us on by as she speaks into the corded phone.
We pass administrative offices and stop in front of the one we're looking for. The bright bronze plaque next to the door readsGarth Henderson, Counselor.
Knocking on the cracked door, I don't wait for a response as I gently swing it all the way open. “Hey, Garth.”
“Sheriff,” he returns, setting down the paper he was reading over. “What can I do for you?”
Garth Henderson is basically a carbon copy of half the men in Evergreen Falls. Mid-forties, lean build, with dark hair threaded with grey around these temples. Smile lines bracket his mouth, carved there by years of hard work and Wyoming weather. He's the type of man that someone doesn't think about twice when they see him in the grocery store.
Stepping further into his office, I take a seat in one of the chairs in front of him while Santiago remains in the doorway. “I was wondering if you could help me with an investigation.”
“I’d love to. What do you need?” Garth clasps his hands together in front of him, resting his forearms on his desk.
My finger taps the edge of his desk. “Not here. Mind coming with me?”
Garth opens his hands in a subtle gesture. “Not a problem.”
We're in the car for a good 5 minutes before Garth even acknowledges Santiago—a fact that grates on my skin.
He'll pay for that.
Garth leans forward, poking his head between the driver and passenger seat. “Santiago, what’re you doing here?”
Santiago gives his reply without a care in the world. “I’m just playing chauffeur. You hear about Walk’s car accident? Totaled his truck.”
Garth nodded his head. “Oh yeah. I heard about that.” He swivels his head to me and asks, “You doing alright?”
“Right as rain,” I confirm, and Garth sits back in his seat.
It's taking everything in me to hold back. I have to keep reminding myself that justice will come soon.
A few minutes later, Garth leans forward again. “I thought we were headed to the station.”
