do — unless you want to start bowling.”
I’d rather cut off my own toes with the lid from a tin can. “Thanks again for your time. If you think of anyone who might’ve wanted to kill Roy, I’ll be working at the diner for the foreseeable future. Don’t hesitate to stop by.”
7
Seven
I returned to the apartment long enough to realize that the town was already making me feel penned in. I lasted a full two hours before I took off again. I needed air.
In the city — any city — there is always somewhere to go. That’s what I liked about it. As an only child, I was accustomed to entertaining myself. That didn’t mean I liked being alone. In the city I could go to a coffee shop or movie theater and sit with a group of strangers without interacting with them and never feel alone. I didn’t have that option in Shadow Hills.
For lack of anything better to do, I put on my hiking boots — they were one of only three pairs of shoes I owned these days — and headed to the river. It was one of my favorite haunts when I was a teenager. Hunter and I spent hours walking the banks. He liked looking for fishing spots and I was perfectly content dangling my feet in the water and listening to him talk for hours about the future.
Most guys of a certain age aren’t chatty. Hunter was the opposite. His home was so stifling, his father such a terror, that he was relegated to silent visitor status under his own roof. He loved the energy of my family. None of them were capable of keeping their mouths shut, something he found amusing. He was also amazed that no one came to blows despite the political arguments.
When it was just the two of us, conversations were quieter. We talked about books and movies and our plans for the future. At the time, a niggling voice at the back of my head told me that his dream of becoming a sportscaster was unattainable. I refused to believe that, though. We had dreams and wanted to live them together.
Hunter was a standout athlete, the quarterback of the football team, pitcher on the baseball team, and power forward on the basketball team. He liked playing pickup games in the high school parking lot. He also liked taking walks in the quiet woods that surrounded the town, something we liked to do together.
I had no idea why I decided it was a good idea to make the trek alone today. I could’ve called Alice to see what she was up to, but I knew walking in the woods wouldn’t be on her list. She had a thing about bugs. I wasn’t a big fan either, but she absolutely freaked out if a bee buzzed near her face. She wouldn’t agree to hang in the woods (let alone go for a five-mile hike) and, after I came up with the idea, that’s all I wanted to do.
I entered the trees from the path behind the restaurant. The walking trails that led to the river were long and winding, but I remembered the route I wanted to take.
I’d barely made it a mile when I found the first landmark, a small clearing where Hunter liked to fish. We would spread out a blanket on the bank and I would relax with a book while he amused himself catching rock bass after rock bass and throwing them back. I once asked him why he never kept any. His response confuses me to this day.
“Some things are only meant to be tamed for a little bit, Stormy. Fish are one of them.”
I always thought it was a rather bleak philosophy, but I laughed. He seemed to expect it. Now, looking back, I couldn’t help but wonder if he was talking about me. It seemed such a deep observation for a teenage boy.
I ran my fingers over the underbrush, which was much thicker than I remembered. Boot prints lined the bank, which seemed to indicate someone was still fishing here. For some reason, that made me feel better. What Hunter and I had was a memory, but nobody had yet completely stolen this place from us.
After a few minutes of silent reminiscence, I selected another path along the river, revisiting some of our other favorite spots. The old tire swing was still there. A closer study told me that the rope had been replaced