Jim talked to himself mentally to keep from checking his rearview mirror once again. Even though he knew she wasn’t really there the specter of Emily kept raising its ugly head. Even here, hundreds–if not thousands–of miles from Los Angeles, he felt her presence. It followed him, chased him down the country highway he now followed through the Western Montana mountains.

The day was balmy. A few clouds hovered over the surrounding peaks; otherwise, the early spring sky was blue and clear. Sunlight dappled the willows and pines lining the road. Shadows of trees and power lines stretched long fingers across the yellow center line. Jim rolled down the window, letting the wind created by his moving vehicle whip through, clearing the stuffiness from the car. The air rippled his thick brown hair.

He wasn’t exactly sure where he was. A sign a while back had welcomed him to Montana, but he hadn’t paid too much attention and didn’t really know how long he had been driving since then. His cousin had tried to convince him to take a device called a ‘global positioning system’ with him, but he eschewed that idea. The devices were just becoming available for cars, and expensive. Besides, the whole purpose of this trip was to put as much distance between Emily, L.A., and himself as possible. Secondarily, he really didn’t want to keep track of his travels. Jim really needed this trip, he thought. He needed time to regroup, clear his head, and decide what he wanted. What he really wanted to do now his grandpa was gone.

The road continued to climb and wind. He wondered if he would run out of gas in this mountain wilderness. He hadn’t seen another car for hours. Glancing at the gas gauge, he realized he had less than a quarter tank left, and mentally kicked himself for not taking his cousin’s advice on bringing a two-gallon gas can with him.

Just as he was beginning to really sweat the situation, he came to a fork in the road. He slowed to read the sign: Curley, twenty-five miles to the left, and Mills Fall, ten miles to the right. A few yards farther to the left was a sign advertising “Curley Mountain Resort,” with a list of activities available, including skiing, hiking, and shops. Taking a second look at his gas gauge, Jim turned right.

A brief mile or two after he turned, the road narrowed. The pavement still seemed good. Climbing, the road circled the side of a mountain with the high side to his left and a sloping, widening valley opening to his right. Reaching the pinnacle of the climb, the road began a gradual descent. From where Jim viewed it, it was a beautiful valley nestled in the arms of surrounding mountains. He could see a small town in the center of the space, two equally small lakes, and in the distance on the far side of the valley a larger lake that was fed by a river washing down from a level shelf above the town. Only a couple of buildings were visible on that plateau. Beyond it, the mountains continued their climb skyward.

Jim wasn’t sure he had made the right choice. A town this small might not even have a gas station. As he continued the descent, a green Ford pickup passed him, heading in the opposite direction. The driver waved as he passed. For an instant Jim wondered what was wrong, then realized the driver was just being friendly. That certainly didn’t happen in L.A., he thought, smiling to himself. Just as he reached the valley floor, he passed another sign, “Welcome to Mills Fall, population 4005.” He cruised slowly down the main road that led into the little town, passing a sign for Blue Lake and a rustic building with a few dark windows. The sign there announced the Blue Lake Bar. He made a long, sweeping curve into the main part of town, passing between an elementary school on the left and a middle and high school on the right. Beyond the high school he could see a fairground, or campground, he wasn’t sure which. The highway was now labeled Main Street, and ran straight between a bank, post office, city hall, and other businesses. And there, down on the left, he spotted a grocery store that sported gas pumps.

Hallelujah, he thought. He signaled, pulling in at a pump. He climbed out of his gray 325i BMW. Once again, he wished he’d traded the car in for something less distinctive, but he really, really liked this car and couldn’t bring himself to part with it. He pulled out his credit card, looking for the slot at the pump, but not finding it. A freckled, red-headed kid looking to be about sixteen or seventeen approached from the direction of the market, smiling and waving.

“Hey there,” the young man said. “Can I help you?” He shaded the sun from his eyes with one hand.

“I just need to get some gas,” Jim replied, returning his attention to the pumps.

“Well then, I can help you!” Red sounded too cheerful, Jim thought. Business must be slow in the market. “But watcha lookin’ for?”

“Where do I insert my credit card?”

“Oh, man. I knew when I saw that car you weren’t from around here. Mills Fall doesn’t have some of that modern stuff.” Red gestured over his shoulder at the store. “You need to pay inside. Cash is better here than credit, but Sal’ll take it, if that’s all you got. He’s my dad. Pay first, then he’ll switch on the pump, and I’ll pump it for you.” Red grinned.

Jim raised an eyebrow and made his way into the store, feeling that grin following him. Looking around, Jim felt surprised that it was much larger inside than it looked from the outside. A dark-haired young woman stocked cans on a shelf. She looked up as Jim came through the door, saying, “Hi, may I help you?”

“I got this, Jennie,” a swarthy complexioned man with jet black hair said. He stood leaning on a counter that was in desperate need of a facelift. He turned his attention to Jim, seeming to size him up from top to bottom. Unconsciously Jim sucked his already flat gut in a little tighter. He felt intimidated by this muscular man.

“You must be the boy’s father?” he asked carefully.

“Name’s Sal. Short for Salvatore. Not Sally. And yeah, he’s my boy. Something I can get for you?” His words were short and clipped, his voice deep and raspy, with just a trace of an accent that Jim couldn’t place.

“Just gas, please.” Jim decided the fewer words that passed between them, the better it might be. But he was quickly proven wrong.

Sal walked behind the counter, pushed a button, and knocked on the window to get Red’s attention. Jim started to walk back outside, but Sal said, “You might as well wait here. That boy’s slow, but he’ll take good care of your car. He’ll pump the gas and clean your windows for you. Where you from?”

Surprised by the change in Sal’s tone, which was now quite conversational, Jim turned back into the store. Standing across the counter from Sal, he said, “Los Angeles. I’m just traveling through.”

Sal raised one bushy eyebrow, resting his big hands on the worktop. “Really? Huh. No one ever just travels through Mills Fall,” he said.

Jim was more curious now than nervous. “Why’s that?”

“Because you can’t travel through here. There’s only one road in and the same road out, and it’s the one you came in on. No way to go but back the way you came. Therefore, you can’t travel through.” Sal’s laugh rumbled deeply as he appreciated his own joke.

“Well, I’m not staying, at any rate. Once I get the gas, I’ll be back on the road.”

“I wouldn’t advise that,” Sal looked out the window and scratched his chin.

Jim sighed, knowing he was walking into another dumb joke. “Why not?”

“Because it’s getting dark soon. The road between here and the highway is windy and curvy. You know that. You came in on it. The road to Curley is even more winding. That isn’t in itself a problem, but you are not from around here, and you don’t know the areas where the critters are likely to be out on the road. We have deer, elk, and an occasional moose or other animals that cross that road. I wouldn’t want you to end up being the roadkill.”

Jim decided it must be pretty important if the storekeeper said it without laughing at his own pun. “So, you are advising me to wait till morning.”

Sal just nodded.

Jim turned to look out the window at the gathering dusk. He had driven a long way today, anyway, he reasoned with himself. He had driven in other areas where there had been animals on the roadway, but never at night, and hadn’t planned on driving on these roads tonight. Suddenly he wished he had taken the fork in the road to the left, into Curley. What a difference a simple choice can make, he mused.

Turning back to Sal, he asked, “If I stay, I will need a bed. Is there a hotel in–what’s this town called? Mill Falls?”

Sal frowned. “Mills Fall,” he corrected. “There is a hotel, just east a block, then a block north.” Red, by this time, had joined them. Sal punched a button on the register and pronounced, “Twenty dollars, even.”  

Jim dug the money out of his wallet and handed it to Sal. “Great,” he said, “if I can get a receipt, I’ll head over there now.”

“I don’t think so,” Sal said cryptically.

“You don’t think I can get a receipt now, or head to the hotel?” Jim was once again out of step with the conversation.

“Here’s your receipt, but the hotel is closed for renovations before the summer season starts. It’s not due to reopen till the first of June, right after Memorial Day.”

Jim suppressed an urge to reach across the counter and strangle the man. “Is there any other place to stay?” In this forsaken place, he wanted to add but didn’t.

Sal looked thoughtful and rubbed his chin again. Red just stood grinning at Jim. It was unnerving. “Well…there might be a chance of staying at the Boyd House. I can call Miss Maggie and check for you, I guess.”

“What’s Boyd House?”

“It’s Maggie Boyd’s place, up on the plateau south of town. Used to be a pretty nice little bed and breakfast, then her husband died suddenly, and she shut it down. She’s all alone up there.” Sal looked hard at Jim. “You aren’t some kind of traveling killer or pervert, are you?”

Jim’s face looked as shocked as he felt. “No, sir, I promise you, I most definitely am not!”

“Humph. Maybe you are.” Sal looked harder at Jim, staring into his eyes. “I don’t think so. But just to be safe, before I call Maggie, I think I’ll have Rachel come by. You just wait right here.”

Sal turned into a private office area, and Jim could hear muffled sounds of a telephone call. He turned to look at Red, but Red just stood there, staring at him. What kind of a weird place had he stumbled into, he wondered, suppressing a sudden feeling of panic. What if the people in this awful town were the killers? He had an almost overwhelming desire to bolt for his car and hit the road as quickly as he could, but something held him in place, like an unseen hand clamped to his shoulder. He felt cold sweat forming on his forehead and swiped at it with the back of his hand.

Sal returned. “Rachel is on her way. She’s close by and will ride her bike.” That seemed to settle the matter. Sal folded his arms across his chest to wait.

The few minutes it took for the woman to arrive felt like hours to Jim. She had shrugged a warm jacket carelessly over farm-style overalls and had a stocking cap on her head, bright red curls of hair escaping around the edges. Jim watched as she shoved the door open and entered, looking around intently, her gaze settling on him.

“This him?” she asked Sal. Sal just nodded.

Rachel walked closer, reaching for Jim’s hands. He reflexively drew back.

“Don’t worry, mister, Rachel ain’t going to hurt you,” Red volunteered.

“Isn’t,” Sal corrected gruffly.

Jim let the woman take his hands in hers, and she peered deeply into his eyes. It wasn’t the kind of uncomfortable scrutiny Sal had given him; in fact, in some ways it felt calming.

After a long time, she pulled back, releasing both his hands and his gaze. A faint smile curved her lips and touched her eyes. She looked at Sal and nodded. “He’s as good as they come, Sal,” she pronounced. “And his future and this towns are intertwined in some interesting ways. I need to get back; I’ve got the school principal’s sick cat to care for.”

“Thanks for coming by, Rachel,” Sal acknowledged, relaxing his stance and dropping his arms.

Rachel left as quickly as she had arrived, leaving Jim once more with the odd man Sal, and his equally strange offspring. Jennie had disappeared, having completed her job of stocking the shelves. Jim hadn’t even noticed her departure.

“Okay. I’ll call Maggie now. Can’t guarantee anything, but having Rachel’s approval carries a lot of weight in this town.” Sal disappeared again behind the curtained doorway leading to the office, and again, Jim heard sounds of muffled conversation. This time it took longer, the minutes ticking past as he waited uncomfortably with Red still watching him and grinning.

When Sal reappeared, he smiled, actually smiled, at Jim. “Maggie says your timing couldn’t be better. She’s just decided to reopen Boyd House and could use some help fixing some things up. She’ll give you a room in exchange for a little help while you are here.”

“But I’m only spending the night,” Jim protested.

“I know, I know. That’s what you say. Just head on up to Maggie’s and see what happens. Son, take him out and point the way. I’m going to lock up.”