BooksBarbecue
Back The Runaway
Chapters (80)
  1. Cover
  2. TITLES BY NICK PETRIE
  3. Dedication
  4. Epigraph
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. 49
  54. 50
  55. 51
  56. 52
  57. 53
  58. 54
  59. 55
  60. 56
  61. 57
  62. 58
  63. 59
  64. 60
  65. 61
  66. 62
  67. 63
  68. 64
  69. 65
  70. 66
  71. 67
  72. 68
  73. 69
  74. 70
  75. 71
  76. 72
  77. 73
  78. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  79. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  80. What’s next onyour reading list?

Helene found the room, took a shower, went for a walk, grabbed dinner, and went to bed, thinking of Roy all the while.

The next morning, she met them in the parking lot with three cups of coffee and a smile.

17

After Klamath Falls, they spent a short day driving down into California. The trailer still hummed. The sign on the side read golden state solutions.

Before Lake Tahoe, Roy turned off the highway at an open gate with a big red T set in a red metal circle mounted on a pole. After a long, winding drive, they came to a huge timbered lodge set deep in the pines.

It reminded her of the fancy hotel outside of Livingston, where her aunt Willa had taken her after finishing the seventh grade. It was very hot and the pool was the main attraction, but Helene felt awkward in her swimming suit and hadn’t wanted to go in the water with boys. She’d thought Aunt Willa would complain, but she had just smiled conspiratorially and taken Helene river rafting and horseback riding instead.

“What is this place?”

“It’s a resort.” Roy yawned. “They have a heated swimming pool, a spa. Great steaks in the restaurant, too.”

Frank got out and stretched. He hadn’t spoken to her since their conversation the day before.

She followed them into the lush lobby, eyes wide. This was no funky old motel. A huge chandelier made of elk antlers hung down from the high, peaked ceiling. An enormous stone fireplace dominated the far side of the room, flanked by couches and armchairs made with real leather. On a table in the corner stood a big crystal jar with lemon slices in ice water and three kinds of complimentary wine. The glasses weren’t plastic, either.

“May I help you?”

The woman at the reception desk was stunning in a French braid and formfitting blouse. Helene, on the other hand, was on her third day in the Walmart jeans and wrinkled button-down shirt, although she had washed the shirt and her bra in the sink the night before. Even her sneakers came from Walmart. She raked her tangled hair back with her fingers and looked around nervously, feeling completely out of place.

No wonder Roy didn’t want her. Even in his beat-up Wranglers and flannel, he walked in like a movie star, like he owned the place. He could have anyone he wanted. The receptionist couldn’t stop staring at him.

Roy pulled out his wallet and, for the first time, handed over his own driver’s license and a credit card instead of cash. He had reserved three rooms for two nights.

“Wait,” Helene said. “You guys are staying, too?”

“We worked hard the last week,” Roy said. “I think we’ve earned a little rest.”

Without a word, Frank reached for his key and turned to go. He still hadn’t put on a shirt.