Miles Lindgren's Arc

Chapter 7 of 13

The ranger station sat at the edge of town, a squat log building with wood smoke curling steady from a stone chimney, a battered green pickup parked out front with the department's seal faded almost illegible on the door. Chase pulled in beside it a little before noon, the sun doing its best to break through a thin layer of cloud without much success. Miles sat a second with his hand on the door handle, some old reflex kicking in before he made himself get out. "You know this guy too?" Chase asked, hauling the camera bag out of the back seat. "David Robbins. Couple years ahead of me in school." Miles shut the car door, boots crunching into snow that hadn't been shoveled off the walkway in a day or two. "We weren't close, exactly, but everyone kind of knew everyone at that size school. He was always out in the woods even back then, always coming to class smelling like campfire smoke. Guess it stuck." David came out onto the porch before they'd even reached the steps, tall, broad-shouldered, department jacket zipped up against the cold, a steaming mug in one hand. He squinted at them for a second, and then his whole face opened into recognition. "There he is." He set the mug down on the porch railing and came down to meet them. "Heard you were back in town. Whole place has been talking about it since you two rolled in." "David." Miles shook his hand. "This is Chase." "The boyfriend, huh." David's grip was firm, easy, his eyes flicking briefly to the camera bag over Chase's shoulder before landing back on Miles. "Good to finally put a face to it." Something shifted in his expression, a little wistful, a little far off. "You know, I always figured you two would end up together, back in high school. You and Dani. She talked about you all the time." Miles blinked, caught off guard. "I didn't realize you knew Dani well enough to talk about that kind of thing." "Wasn't like that." David's easy grin flickered, just a beat, before settling back into place. "Small school. You hear things about everybody whether you're trying to or not." "Guess nothing stays private for long around here." Miles let it go with an easy shrug of his own. "Which actually works out, since we're trying to run down a tip, and figured you'd be the best person around to ask." "Yeah? What's going on?" "There was apparently a car parked near the tree line out at the old ice works, a few days before Dani disappeared." Miles nodded toward the camera as Chase pulled it out. "Trying to find anyone who might've seen it, or who'd have had reason to be out that way back then." Something moved across David's face, quick, gone almost before Miles could place it. "Rough spot to place a vehicle, even now." He recovered easily enough, leaning back against the porch railing, arms crossing over his chest. "Back then that road wasn't maintained the way the county roads were. Half the year you'd need four-wheel drive just to get out that far." "Mind if we get this on camera?" Chase asked, already unfolding the tripod. "For the show. We can keep it loose, nothing you're not comfortable with." David hesitated, just a beat longer than the question probably warranted, glancing once toward the tree line behind the station before answering. "Sure. Yeah, that's fine." Chase set the shot, and the second the light blinked red, David's whole posture shifted, squaring up slightly, more careful than the easy porch conversation a minute before had been. "Twelve years is a long time to pull a specific memory out of thin air," David said, hands settling into his jacket pockets. "I hadn't even joined the ranger service yet back then. I was still working seasonal trail maintenance." "Would there be any record of who had hunting permits for that stretch, back then?" Miles asked. "Anyone who'd have had legitimate reason to be out there?" "Might be, if the county archive kept anything that far back. I can check for you." David rubbed a hand over his jaw, thoughtful, or performing thoughtful, Miles genuinely couldn't tell which. "I do remember there being some trouble that year with poaching out past the ice works, actually. Wasn't connected to Dani, probably, but the wardens were keeping a closer eye on that stretch of woods for a while because of it." "You hunted out that way yourself, didn't you?" Miles asked, the memory surfacing slow, something from a hallway conversation a decade and a half old. "Back then, I mean." David's jaw tightened, just slightly, before he answered. "Sure, some. Everybody who hunted around here knew those trails, wasn't exactly a secret spot." His eyes flicked toward the camera again, then back to Miles, and his voice smoothed a little too deliberately. "I wasn't out there that particular week, though, if that's where this is headed." "It's not headed anywhere. Just trying to figure out who'd know the area." Miles kept his tone even, easy, though something in his chest had gone quietly alert. "Right. Course." The grin came back, a half-second later than it should have. "Long time ago. Hard to say exactly where I was on any given week that far back, honestly." "Any idea if there'd be a record of who got flagged for the poaching that year?" Chase asked, smooth, giving nothing away, though Miles could feel him listening just as closely. "Warden's office might have something on file." David straightened up, visibly glad to be past the last question. "I'll dig around, see what I can find. Old permits, anything with a name attached to that stretch of road." "We'd appreciate that," Miles said. "Course. Everybody in this town's carried Dani a long time. Be nice to finally get somewhere with it." David's smile settled back into something warmer, more like the man who'd greeted them on the porch, and Chase clicked the camera off a moment later. They said their goodbyes, David walking them halfway back to the car, chatting easily now about nothing in particular, the department's new snowmobile, a bad ice storm coming later in the week. It was almost enough to make the last few minutes feel like they hadn't happened at all. Almost. "You caught that, right?" Chase asked once they were both in the car, engine running, heat starting to push back against the cold. "The hunting question. He got weird about it." "Yeah." Miles stared out the windshield at the station shrinking in the mirror. "Real casual answer, considering how long it took him to give it." "Doesn't mean anything on its own." "No." Miles turned it over in his head, the way David's grin had come back a beat too late, the way his eyes had gone to the camera before answering instead of after. "But if the county's got hunting permits on file for that year, that's a place to start. See if his name's on one." "Or if it's conspicuously not." Chase pulled out onto the main road. "Guy who hunted those trails regularly, and doesn't have a permit that specific season? That's a question all on its own." "Yeah." Miles exhaled slowly. "Worth asking." They grabbed coffees at the walk-up kiosk near the library, then carried them inside to escape the cold. The library had quiet reading tables tucked near the back, good enough for laptops and spread-out notes. They set up there, reviewing the morning's footage over cups that went cold faster than either of them drank them. It was easy, methodical work, the kind that let the tension between them settle into something manageable, professional distance instead of open wound. By the time they finally packed up, the light outside had slanted low and gold through the windows, the whole day sliding toward evening faster than either of them had noticed. They cut through the residential streets on the way back to Frost Inn, taking the long way without really discussing it, and Chase slowed for a stop sign near the edge of Miles's old neighborhood. A woman was crossing at the corner ahead, bundled heavy against the cold, a grocery bag in each hand, moving slow and careful over the packed snow. Miles recognized her before his mind fully caught up to what that meant. She was thinner than he remembered. Greyer. Her whole frame seemed smaller somehow, folded in against the cold in a way that had nothing to do with the actual temperature. She hadn't seen them yet, just crossing the street the way she probably crossed it every single day, heading toward the same house she'd lived in for thirty years, the one right next door to his parents', the one he'd been avoiding since the moment they'd driven into town. "Miles." Chase's voice had gone quiet, careful, catching the shift in him before Miles had said a word. "Is that—" "Yeah." He couldn't move. Couldn't look away either. Twelve years of not knowing what he'd say to her, of telling himself he'd figure it out when the moment actually came. She reached the far curb, adjusted her grip on the grocery bags, and looked up. Their eyes met.