“This place is good,” Ray said, stopping in front of a glass storefront that said Jessie Mae’s Ice Cream.
He could have suggested ground glass in that moment, and Josie would have agreed. Inside the quaint little shop, the air was frigid. Tiny tables for two lined the walls. A countertop extended almost into the center of the room. On either side of it were glass cases with various flavors of ice cream inside them. They stepped up to where a sign said: Order Here. Josie tore her eyes away from Ray to order and immediately, the rush of happiness she’d felt outside drained from her feet into the tile beneath her.
Beverly scowled at her from behind the cash register. A small hat in the shape of a cherry was pinned to the top of her head. Her luscious brown curls were pulled back into a ponytail. Her uniform was a pastel pink halter top beneath a set of white overalls. Even with the silly hat, she looked gorgeous. Womanly. Sensuous, even.
Ray seemed not to notice. Or maybe he did, and he was just pretending not to. His eyes were glued to the menu above Beverly’s head. Did he come here a lot? Had he known Beverly worked here? They didn’t acknowledge each other. Josie smoothed her now wrinkled linen dress, feeling self-conscious. “Ray,” she whispered in his ear. “Maybe we should go somewhere else.”
Before he could answer, Beverly turned away from them and shouted to a co-worker cleaning an ice cream machine behind her. “Morgan, you have a customer. I’m going on break.”
Without another look, she sauntered into the back of the shop.
Twenty-Five
The next morning, Josie woke at five a.m. to the sound of thunder cracking and rain pounding the roof. Trout had inserted himself between her and Noah in bed. He shivered and whimpered. Josie reached over to stroke his silky back and felt Noah’s hand already resting there. “He doesn’t like the boomers,” Noah said softly.
“I know,” Josie said. Her fingers crawled up to the downy area behind his ears and stroked it gently. The three of them lay there, Josie and Noah cocooning Trout until the thunder and lightning passed and it was time for Josie to get ready to meet Gretchen.
Gretchen was waiting in her own car in the parking lot of the Stop-N-Go. When Josie pulled up, she got out of her car and hopped into Josie’s passenger seat. They turned out of the parking lot and down Lockwood Drive. There had been a break in the rain, but the sky hadn’t cleared. Josie thought of Trout trembling beneath her touch and of the city being swallowed up by the floods a little more each day. A feeling of dread clawed at her, so intense it was almost physical, like darkness closing in on the edges of her peripheral vision.
The road was little-used, with nothing much to offer besides forest on one side and mostly abandoned businesses on the other—save for one of the seediest motels in the city, which was somehow still in operation. Road crews didn’t spend much time maintaining this portion of Lockwood Drive. The asphalt was cracked and rutted. The yellow lines splitting the lanes had long ago faded to what looked like confetti loosely thrown down the center of the road. Josie maneuvered around several potholes. From the Stop-N-Go, Lockwood ran downhill, running parallel with the interstate for several miles. Except now, in the distance, large plastic orange barriers stretched across the highway where the flooding had risen. A huge white sign with black letters announced Road Closed.
Alice had been right. The bowling alley was the last building on the road before the flood zone started. Josie pulled into the parking lot, tires crunching over gravel and broken pavement, and parked behind the building. The weedy, litter-strewn lot behind the old building was empty. A broken-down fence separated it from a strip of land that ran along the concrete barriers of the interstate beyond. They got out and looked around, but there was no one in view.
“Should we go into the building?” Gretchen asked.
“No,” Josie said. “She said behind the bowling alley, not inside. Besides, this place has been empty for years. I’m not sure the structure is safe.”
To their right, about a half mile up the hill, was the back of the Patio Motel. Beyond that, the land abutting the interstate rose until it became the steep drop-off where they had stood the day before, behind the Stop-N-Go. To their left, about twenty yards of pocked land lay between them and the brown water of the Susquehanna, which had overtaken this area of Lockwood Drive when it flooded the interstate overpass. The fence that was supposed to separate the lots from the interstate had fallen into the water. Ten yards beyond that sat the portion of the interstate just before the flooded overpass. The State Police had erected concrete barriers across the lanes of the highway, and traffic had been diverted around the closure and through the city. Everything but the river was still and quiet, its current moving swiftly.
“I don’t think she’s coming,” Gretchen said.
Raindrops splattered around them. “Not again,” Josie said. She took out her phone. “I’m going to call her.”
This time, Alice picked up immediately. Josie said, “Alice, we’re at the meeting place. Where are you?”
“I see you,” she whispered.
Josie spun around, searching the surroundings. “Where are you? If you can see us, just come out. There’s no one else here.”
“You don’t know that. I’m waiting to see if you were followed.”
“I think we’d know if we were followed,” Josie told her.
Gretchen turned slowly in a circle, looking around. She pointed uphill toward the Patio Motel. Josie started to walk with her toward it but then Alice said, “Don’t leave. Just a few more minutes to make sure no one followed you. That’s all I’m asking.”
Josie stopped. She looked at Gretchen and pointed behind them. They turned and walked back toward the flooded area. “Alice, you really need to tell us what’s going on. If you’re this concerned for your safety, I think you need to let us bring you in.”
Silence.
“Alice?”
“I think I hear something,” she said.
Josie pulled the phone from her ear, and she and Gretchen strained to listen for the sounds of tires over asphalt or footsteps, but there was nothing. Gretchen gestured toward the interstate and mouthed, I think she’s there.
Josie followed her movement, eyes landing on the concrete barriers set in place so that drivers wouldn’t go directly into the flood. There was still some area of dry interstate behind them before the water flowed up and over the overpass. It wasn’t the safest hiding spot, but it would give Alice a clear view of the rears of all the buildings leading up the hill without being seen, and no one would look for her on the closed interstate.
Josie nodded to Gretchen and slowly, they began walking in that direction. Alice started to speak, but her words were lost when another call beeped in on Josie’s phone. She pulled it away from her ear and looked at the screen. Noah. Whatever he was calling for, it could wait. She swiped decline and sent him to voicemail. “What was that, Alice?”
Gretchen’s cell phone rang. “Noah,” she said as she looked at the screen. She, too, sent the call to voicemail. As they climbed over the guardrail and stepped onto the highway, a woman emerged from behind the barricades. A cell phone was pressed to her ear. She pulled it away, pressed the screen, and put it in her jacket pocket. Her raincoat was dark blue and beneath that she wore a pair of black jeans and white sneakers. She was rail thin with long, dark hair that had obviously been dyed, but Josie recognized her features at once.