Circling Stars

🌟 Chapter 48 🌟

    "What are you going to do?" Jasper asked. He leaned against the doorframe watching me with concern. I put some sturdy clothes and the sat-phone on the couch as I searched for the backpack Sean had brought with him. I found it and gently emptied it of all the art supplies Sean had stuffed it with. During the last couple months Alice had gotten him into art and he'd started drawing near constantly. He'd had a bit of talent and through practice he'd gotten a lot better. If he continued at it he'd be able to make a living as a comic book artist which was the latest in his desired career choices. A picture he'd been working on slipped from his sketch book and I saw it was a rough etching of Jasper, Sean, and I. He seemed to have the most trouble capturing himself rather than us. After a brief hesitation I put it in the pile of things I was taking with me.

    "I don't know."

    "Darlin'–"

    "Don't try to stop me." I put what little I'd need into the backpack and zipped it up. Sean was asleep in the next room of our hotel suite unaware of what had happened this afternoon. "Just stay here until I get back. I probably won't even be gone a week."

    "I was not going to. I believe you need to face this man and make your choice. No matter what you do I will still love you."

    "I love you too." I threw my arms around him. "Just don't tell Sean." I let him go and took a shaky breath. Even though I'd been a vampire for years now I never was able to stop that nervous habit. "There is one other thing I'd like you to do for me." I pulled out the two short letters I'd written. "Will you deliver these for me—in person?"

    He took in the names on the envelopes and nodded. I left him there trusting that the letters would get to Shirley and Brandon. What I would do when I learned what those responses would be was a problem for another day. Right now I focused on hunting.

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    Tim wasn't hard to track now that I'd finally found him. Upon returning to my hometown the last thing I expected was to run into him. His face had been blasted all over and everyone in town knew he was wanted for the deaths of my parents. What drew him back? Why now? I found my answer at the cemetery which was where I began since his scent would be strong there.

    Turned out it was Trent's birthday. I zipped away from the grave and followed the scent. He'd spent some time in a liquor store before moving on. I expected him to be hold up in one of the sketchy motels on the edge of town but he just kept going. Thank God he wasn't driving or I probably wouldn't be able to track him. His trail led me up into the woods where I found ATV tracks heading off into the dense woods. The trail would have been several hours for a human whether on foot or with all terrain vehicle assistance. For me it didn't even take half of one.

    It led me to a sad run down looking shack that had clearly been occupied for a bit. Wind tore at my clothes but I didn't feel the chill. Tim started a fire inside and sat by it drinking, and eating green beans out of a can. He had a large stack of newspapers that seemed to be used as a bed and fodder for the fire when needed. I watched him for three days. He spent those days fishing and drinking and chopping firewood. Though it was clear he enjoyed none of it as he and grumbled about random b.s. that had nothing to do with his current situation. On the third night he passed out drunk in front of his fire and I decided it was time to go in.

    I snooped around and discovered the oldest newspaper he had was dated almost exactly three years ago. Shelves of canned food made up the south wall, a few ratty smelly blankets had been thrown in one corner, and a rifle sat in the other corner and that was the extent of the home decor. I heard Tim's breathing change and knew he was awake. Instead of running I decided to stand my ground.

    "I always thought you'd come knocking on my door." He hunched himself over and took another swig of the foul smelling liquor. "What took you so damn long?"

    I took a good look at this man. He'd aged horribly. Tim Woodard was in his late fifties but he looked about seventy-five at least. His hair was now a speckled gray, his face was wrinkled and covered in age spots, he appeared to have all his teeth but they were in horrible condition. The years since I'd last seen him hadn't been kind.

    "Did you know my parents were in that building?"