sirens began to sound. The sky took on a strange greenish color, and suddenly the wind started grabbing everything that it could pick up. She tried to get back into the trailer but froze.
She opened her eyes to find sweat covering her body and the alarm ringing right beside her ear. She quickly turned it off and reached over to shake Lyle awake. But he wasn’t there. She sat up so quick that it made her dizzy. Pictures of him lying in a ditch with his motorcycle on top of him flashed through her mind. She threw the covers to the side and ran to the living room, expecting to find him on the sofa, but no. She quickly dug through her purse for her phone—no calls or messages, which only meant if he was hurt, he wasn’t in the hospital. He had to be unconscious.
She hit the speed dial for his number, and it went straight to voice mail. She jerked on a pair of jeans, didn’t even bother with a beaded headband or braiding her long hair, and pulled a T-shirt over her head as she went out the door. She was inside the truck when she realized she hadn’t gotten her purse, so she raced back inside, grabbed it, and ran back to the vehicle. She tried calling Lyle again every three minutes, but it went to voice mail each time.
Driving slowly and stopping every time she saw a black skid mark veering off the road, she just knew that she’d find him dead somewhere between Celeste and Greenville. When she reached the outskirts of town, she drove straight to the ranch where he’d worked as a hired hand for the past eighteen months. The only time she’d been there was for the Christmas party last year, but it wasn’t hard to find. A few times he’d worked very late and then stayed in the bunkhouse with the guys. She hoped that was the case this time, but his motorcycle wasn’t there, either. Still, she parked in front of a long, low building where three guys were sitting on the porch, having their morning coffee. They all waved when she rolled down the window.
“You done passed the ranch house, darlin’,” one of them yelled.
“I’m looking for Lyle Jones,” she said, raising her voice.
“He ain’t comin’ in today, honey. He left at noon yesterday. He’s got a big weekend planned. He’ll be back on Monday if you want to come back,” the guy said.
“What kind of weekend?” she asked.
“A huge one. If you’re his sister, you were supposed to meet him at the courthouse yesterday. Guess you’re too late.”
“I’m not his sister,” Jody said.
One guy chuckled. “Then, honey, you’re too late for anything.”
“What’s that mean?” she asked.
“Ask Lyle,” another one laughed.
“Thank you.” Jody rolled the window up and turned the truck around. Sister, huh?
His older sister lived in Houston and never had liked Jody. She seldom came around and when she did, she stayed in a hotel. She was trouble on wheels, and pretty often, after Lyle spent time with her, he was hard to live with. However, he did always tell Jody when Brenda was coming to visit. Why would he withhold that information now?
She was still fuming when she got back to the trailer. Thank goodness it was Saturday and the shop was closed or she’d be late getting to work. She tried calling him again but didn’t get an answer, so she went inside and brewed a pot of coffee. She poured a cup and carried it to the sofa. She’d only taken one sip when her phone rang. She grabbed it so fast that she fumbled the cup and spilled it on the carpet. She forgot all about the stain it would leave when she saw Lyle’s number come up on the caller ID.
“Where in the hell are you? Did you and Brenda hit the bars last night? If you’re in jail, I’ll be damned if I come bail y’all out. You can just rot in there, and why did you take off work yesterday? What’s so big that you can’t even tell me why you aren’t coming home?” She stopped long enough for a breath. “Did you go and sell our place to Quincy? Is that why you didn’t come home?”
“Jody, slow down,” he said. “We need to talk.”
“What do you think we’ve been doing?” She finally got control of her shaking hands. Even if he sold the property, he was alive and