I’m finally revisiting the characters from The River City Chronicles nine years after their original timeline. I’ll be running the series weekly here on my blog, and then will release it in book form at the end of the run. Hope you enjoy catching up with all your faves and all their new secrets!
Today, we find out more about the mysterious stranger and what he’s looking for…
< Read Chapter 29 | Read Chapter 31 >
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Chapter Thirty
The Stranger
Warning: deadnaming.
The man in gray looked up and down the street of the residential neighborhood where his target had parked his car. River Park was an upstanding place, not far from the Sac State campus, full of huge trees, broad green lawns, and a multitude of folks out on walks with dogs of all shapes and sizes.
He eyed the big trees warily. Must be fun times in those atmospheric rivers we seem to be getting these days. A couple years earlier, on New Yearās Day, a giant elm tree had crashed into his neighborās two-story Victorian in Midtown. Lucky for them, theyād been on vacation when it happened, but the damage had been appalling.
He sidled up to the targetās car, an old Honda Civic. Easy to get into, without all that electronic lock mumbo-jumbo so common these days.
With one last look around to be sure no one was watching, he jimmied the door with an expert touch and slipped inside.
If he had to, heād break into his targetās apartment. A couple decades spent on the outer edges of the law had taught him the requisite skills needed to entrap a cheating husband, to break into a supposedly secure safe, or trace someoneās finances through the arcane pathways of the financial system, all while following his clientās wishes. But he preferred to start small.
Before nosing around, he glanced in the rearview mirror.
A tall, bald man was approaching, led by a giant German Shepherd. Likely the dogwalker was just passing through and didnāt live on the street, but it didnāt pay to take unnecessary chances.
He lowered the seat and lay down nearly flat, staring up at the stained gray fabric ceiling. He counted out a good thirty seconds before popping his head up to see if they had passed.
Damn my luck. The man was standing right next to the car while his dog did his business on the lawn. At least his back was turned toward the street.
Hope he cleans up after it. Nothing annoyed him more than people who failed to take their civic responsibilities seriously.
A moment later, the tall man was gone.
He got to work. First off, he rummaged through the center console. There were a few candy wrappers, a small black plastic container full of quarters, a garage door opener, three twist ties, and a mostly empty bottle of hand sanitizer. Nothing useful there.
He frowned. Next, he tried the glove compartment. There he found proof of insuranceāin the name of Ben Hammondāwhich had some other information that might prove useful in his online sleuthing. He took a photo of the card.
There was also a car manualānever opened, by the look of itāa couple of probably unpaid parking tickets, and one of those little plastic-wrapped cleaning wipes from Quick Quack Car Wash. He took photos of the tickets too.
One last place to check.
He reached around the back and felt in the pocket behind the driverās seat. Sometimes people put things there and forgot about them.
Bingo. His fingers closed on a piece of paper. He pulled it outāit was an envelope.
Inside was a copy of the title for the car, dated fifteen years earlier. This guy really needs to upgrade his life. Same job for nine years. Same car for a decade and a half. Surprising for someone who had to be making bank as a manager at one of the cityās most successful restaurants.
Paydirt. The title had Benās deadnameāAlice Hamil. The person he was being paid to find.
He pulled out his iPhone again and dialed his client.
She answered after the first ring. āYes?ā She sounded tense.
āI found him.ā
āYou mean her?ā
He sighed. āLook. This isnāt going to work if you donāt respect him. That starts with using his proper pronouns.ā He might be a sketchy private eye, willing to work on the edges of what was legal. But he wasnāt an asshole.
There was a pregnant pause. āIām sorry,ā she said at last. Maybe she even meant it. āSheā¦ I knew him as herfor so long.ā
He closed his eyes. Heād lost his daughter when she was ten, and trying to find her was what got him into this business in the first place. āThat must have been very painful.ā
āWeā¦ said a lot of things we shouldnāt have said. It doesnāt matter now.ā There was a bleakness to her tone that heād only heard in someoneās voice before where someone had died. In his ex-wifeās voice. āIāmā¦ thank you, Mr. Kuo. Can Iā¦ what happens now?ā
He bit his lip, not willing to give into the tidal wave of emotion he held so carefully in check. āNow I make contact. Give me a few days. Iāll be in touch.ā
He hung up before she could reply.
Someone rapped on the passenger window.
He looked up. A man stood there, his face smeared with dirt, his hikerās backpack on his shoulders soiled with grease. At his side was a mangy mixed breed dog.
He rolled down the manual window. āCan I help you?ā He needed to move the man along before he drew attention to them both.
āSpare some change?ā
There were homeless folks everywhere in California these days. Even in the fancy neighborhoods. āSure.ā He pulled out a crisp twenty and handed it over. āGet yourself something hot to eat.ā
The guy blushed. āThanks, man. God bless you.ā
āYou too.ā Heād been on the streets before himself, had lived like that man for a year.
Besides, he could afford the help, with his current case about to pay out.
After the homeless man left with his dog, he rolled up the window and made sure everything was the way heād found it when he arrived.
Then he got out of the car and sauntered down the road toward his own ride. Time to enact the next part of the plan.
< Read Chapter 29 | Read Chapter 31 >
Like what you read? if you haven’t tried it yet, check out book one, The River City Chronicles, here.