Natalie's Legacy [sequel to Natalie's Diary]

[15] Innocence

[15] INNOCENCE

Jane

Lucas' truck sat quiet and alone on the side of the cemetery road. I pulled at the doors, casing the joint, as it were, but nothing was left unlocked. 

"What does he keep back there that he needs to lock up the canopy?" Bia asked, trying to twist the knob to no avail.

"Why park in a cemetery?" I asked. Nothing in the immediate surroundings stuck out to me. Wind rattled the leaves in the maple and oak trees, but the whistle of the wind had little to do with Lucas.

Did he need to be close to Incendiary? Did he attempt to eavesdrop like me, but failed at the escape? I entertained the idea, but then, what I overheard through the window wouldn't make much sense.

"Too bad we don't have a key," Bia said, shooting me a knowing look.

"I don't know what you're trying to insinuate here," I replied pointedly.

"I know what you're thinking." Bia ran her finger down the side of the canopy. "And I'm thinking I don't want to walk anymore."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm definitely not thinking about breaking into this truck. I'm certainly not trying to remember how to bypass the ignition with a couple of jumper cables, a screwdriver and some creative use of the starter solenoid," I drawled. Bia knew me too well.

Lucas drove a remarkably common Ford F150 from the '90s, one not especially hard to hotwire. Though, I did not intend to strip the wires in his steering column. It wasn't my truck. I wasn't going to do anything I couldn't undo. 

"I love you, but you scare me sometimes." Bia hummed, pressing her face against the driver side window. I didn't scare her enough for her to discourage me. It would be nice to have a ride again.

"I'm sure."

The lack of coat hanger and pry bar made the breaking in part more intimidating.

"Do you know how to pick a basic lock? The canopy's probably easier to crack than the doors," I asked, half-hoping. If I could be full of surprises, so could Bia. 

"I have a couple bobby pins and Youtube." Bia shrugged. Of course it was on Youtube. The internet could teach anyone to be a criminal. "Stand guard for me?"

I nodded, wandering a little ways from the truck, putting myself purposely between Lucas' Ford and the small crowd touring through the cemetery the weekend of Hallowe'en. People fascinated by history and ghosts, wanting to be close to death.

Wind whipped through my hair, the subtle sour smell of dying leaves riding on it. Goosebumps rose across my skin even though the brisk bite couldn't cut through my layers. 

"Jane!" Bia called and I shook off the chill. We needed to move.

Taking one more glance around, to the crowd then up the crest of the hill, I half-expected someone to follow us from Incendiary. Despite the dread, there was nothing there. I stalked back to the truck.

"I got one unlocked. Think you make it through? It has a bit of flex." Bia demonstrated, tugging one corner of the canopy away from the tailgate.

"Calling me small?" I teased. At least it was good for something.

I wedged myself in through the narrow opening unlocking just one of the T-handles offered, wriggling into the box of Lucas' truck. In the couple of months that I'd known him, it never occurred to me to ask why he had a canopy on his truck or what he kept in the back of it. I expected a guy like Lucas to drive a Hybrid or a Pinto or something, not a pickup. Not a Ford. He fixed computers and iPhones. He didn't haul wood or go camping.