As we walked up the canal bank, I could hear the horses whinny from the corral. I turned to watch my dad’s quarter horse, Fellar, kick up dirt as he raced across the pasture. Samson barked and brought my attention back to the canal. Irrigation water churned slowly with its greenish hue, pushing for the next culvert to open so the flow of water could sprinkle the fields. Following the canal back for several miles would lead to the mammoth Snake River wending its way through southern Idaho.
We passed a bunch of cattails, and I heard a sound just before Samson dived into the water. “Samson, get back here right now,” Dad hollered.
The golden retriever stopped, and I watched as a mother duck and five brown tufts of fluff swam to the other side of the canal. The ducklings hid in the tall grasses, and Samson gazed longingly after them before climbing out of the water. I broke into a run to escape the inevitable dog shake and continued down the road another hundred yards. The evening was still, and it seemed every sound echoed against the next, creating a country harmony that couldn’t be replicated. The sun hung low on the horizon, and I gazed across the flat expanse of fields, most holding giant pivots, or circulars—sprinklers on a great arm rotating around the field.
I turned around to see Wes and Dad pointing at something in the water and Mom heading toward me. Then I saw something out of my peripheral vision and jerked my head to the right. A silver car had pulled up to the stop sign on the canal bridge. My throat tightened as I studied the vehicle, wondering if it was the same car I had noticed on my way to Shayla’s. The car was only about fifty yards from me. It was time to find out if this man was following me. I took off in a dead run toward the car, my eyes glued to the driver.
Chapter 13
Bryn’s Raspberry
Cheesecake Squares
Spread cream cheese on one graham cracker. Top with raspberries and chocolate chips.
Courtesy of www.mashedpotatoesandcrafts.com.
“What are you doing, Adri?” Mom called after me.
The stop sign on the bridge stood just before the slope so the driver could see down the country road before descending into oncoming traffic. A fertilizer truck approached from the west, and the car was forced to wait at the stop sign. Pushing myself, I closed in on the sedan, which I now recognized as a Toyota Camry. I wondered if the driver had seen me or if I was making a fool of myself.
Twenty-five yards from the car, I saw the driver turn to look behind him and to the right. We made eye contact. As I continued running toward him, his eyes widened, and then he punched the gas and zoomed out in front of the truck. His tires screeched as he made a sharp left turn and then accelerated up the road. The truck honked and swerved to the right, the tanks of fertilizer sloshing as it came to a stop.
The panic ratcheted up my heart rate even though I told myself to remain calm. I didn’t know for sure that the car had anything to do with me, but at the same time, I couldn’t convince myself it was a coincidence.
“What the—” Wes ran up beside me and craned his neck, peering after the car. I heard my dad cuss and felt Mom’s hand on my arm.
“What were you doing?” she asked.
How could I explain that I had spotted a suspicious car and wanted to see who was driving it? And I was right. The man driving that car had been looking for me. The way his eyes widened when our eyes met explained away any false hopes I might have had in my own paranoia.
With a deep breath, I closed my eyes. I wanted to capture the man’s features before they melted into the adrenaline of the moment. His hair was dark, his face clean-shaven. There had been something sparkling near his face as he turned his head, and I struggled to reconstruct what I had seen in that split second.
“Adri, are you okay?” Mom grabbed hold of my elbow, and my eyes flew open.
“I’m fine, just trying to remember details,” I mumbled.
“Did anyone catch the plate number?” Wes asked.
“No, and the truck left, so I doubt the police would come out here anyway. That car is long gone.” Dad gestured to the truck farther down the road. I watched as it grew smaller in the distance, then I turned back toward the direction the Camry had taken to escape.
“Why were you running?” Wes asked.
“That car looked suspicious. I wanted to see who was driving it.”
Dad chuckled. “Do you have some mobster after you or something?”
I forced a laugh and ignored the concern creasing the wrinkles near Mom’s eyes. “No, it was just the way he pulled up to the stop sign. He wasn’t watching the road—he seemed to be looking for something.”
“Probably just rubber-necking,” Dad offered. “People always think there’s something better to look at than the road.”
“We should head back,” Mom said. She tugged at my hand, and we turned toward home.
“Yeah, I stuck around to see if you’re up for a game.” Wes bumped my arm, and I bumped him back.
“You’re on. Hope you’re ready to lose.”
When we returned to the house, Mom served us what she called a new delicacy inspired by Bryn. We laughed as we ate the graham crackers spread with cream cheese and topped with raspberries and chocolate chips. I took a few pictures to post on my website because they were incredibly yummy.
We played Settlers of Catan. After Wes won two games in a row, Mom said it was time to play Sorry. Wes ribbed me about losing, and normally it would’ve bothered my competitive
