92. Tightening

It takes me a while, but thankfully the old mill where Uncle Robert was staying is still on the map. It’s not like the Crag’s Inn, which disappeared until finally reemerging on the day I hit the lottery and won my license. I’ve ridden out here to see if I can talk to Uncle Robert again. Or at least see how he’s doing. But after checking out the house and the surrounding area, I realize that Uncle Robert is long gone.

It’s a pretty little place even if it is an abandoned property. I hear birds chirping away and crickets buzzing and bees flying.

In another life, I might decide to settle down here.

I’d fix this place up and bring in animals and then do something. Like milking the cows and making cheese and baking fresh bread.

Who are you trying to fool? Farming? You’re an idiot.

I walk across a field of grass, through weeds that come up to my shins. The sun beats down on me on this Saturday late morning.

I wonder if Uncle Robert is really gone for good. If he spoke his piece and couldn’t do anything else and just left.

Like the coward that he is.

I don’t want to hate Uncle Robert. Nor do I want to think that he is a coward. But I still don’t get it. I don’t understand how someone can just hide and wait.

What are you doing with Kelsey then? Aren’t you hiding just a bit? Aren’t you forcing her to wait?

Maybe.

It’s April 28, and Memorial Day is a month away exactly.

I know because I’ve been looking. I know the date by heart.

I need to find Uncle Robert before then. If he’s around to find.

I need to see Aunt Alice, too.

As I get on my bike, a list of other to-dos goes off in my head.

Time is beginning to tighten around me like a noose.

I just hope I can figure out what in the world I’m supposed to do before they open the trapdoor and I’m left to plunge to my death.