Resolution: Evan Warner Book 1 by Shawn Underhill, Nick Adams Page A
Authors: Shawn Underhill, Nick Adams
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exist in secret, of course. As with real wolves, they always have someone out to harm them, so the pack is always on guard. I love wolves. Always have, for some reason. I wish I could be one. Evidently plenty of people share my sentiment. On good months I sell thousands of copies on America’s most popular retail website. My numbers might be a joke to Stephen King. But they’re not bad for someone like me.
“Evan,” Laney said. “I asked about your books. Are you back writing?”
“Not much lately,” I answered.
“You should try something different. Instead of making yourself miserable over Lucy, maybe you could put your energy into a different story. Anything, just to work out your frustrations.”
I said nothing.
“It’s just that you’re in a much better mood when your stories are going well. Almost like a different guy.”
I laughed quietly.
“I’m sorry but it’s true,” she said.
“So you think I should focus on fiction while a real kid gets brushed under the rug?”
“I think you should take better care of yourself.”
“Same end. Nothing changes.”
“You don’t have to give up hope.”
“Hope? Are you serious?”
“I am.”
“Why is everyone so willing to let this kid go?”
Laney sighed. Looked away. I guess it wasn’t a fair question.
After a pause I said, “Sorry. It’s not your fault.”
She nodded, asked, “Have you talked to Danny?”
“He’s stumped and doesn’t want to admit it. Wants me to become a cop or else mind my business.”
Laney said nothing. But she was clearly thinking about something. I could see it on her face.
“You think I should?”
“Become a cop? No. It wouldn’t work. You’re way too independent.”
“We agree on something at least.”
“Now and then.”
I said, “Guess I should let you go. I’ll take my food and get out of your hair.”
“I am busy,” she admitted.
I lit a cigarette while Laney went inside to pack up my food. When she came back out a few minutes later I ditched the butt. My lasagna was in a hot tin bowl. There was soft white bread in a paper sleeve. There was a raw pound of steak wrapped in foil for Frank.
“Need some money for the steak?” I asked.
Laney’s parents will rarely take money from me or my parents. On account of all the business they get from campers. Our families have known one another for decades. But sometimes they have a hard time seeing how Frank fits into the equation.
“Don’t worry about it,” she said.
I took the bag and hugged her with my other arm. She said that I smelled like smoke. I got in the van. Started it and put the window down. Laney was just standing there. Looking tired and concerned.
“I’m off tomorrow,” she said. “Maybe I’ll stop by. See how you’re doing.”
“Sounds good,” I said. “You know how Frank gets upset when you don’t visit.”
Laney smiled. “I’m sure he tosses and turns all night.”
She waved and disappeared through the kitchen door. I went off to find a quiet place to eat.
10
About fifteen minutes east of Saulsbury I entered the small city of Franklin. It’s an old mill town of about eight thousand residents that’s gone slowly but steadily downhill for the past fifty years. East of Franklin is the nicer town of Trenton. A town that’s grown up around cheap gas stations beside the highway and tax free outlet malls. In Trenton there’s also a Walmart. That’s where I ended up after dinner.
But I wasn’t there to shop. I was there to check the big bulletin board in the entryway.
The parking lot was jammed. The sun was sinking low over the horizon, the sky was turning colors, and the lot was darkening. Many of the vehicles had out-of-state plates. In the back corner of the lot there were motor homes parked in oversized spots. Holiday weekends. People everywhere. Like ants scurrying around a rotting tree.
I found a spot near the automotive side of the building and parked. Told Frank I’d just
“Evan,” Laney said. “I asked about your books. Are you back writing?”
“Not much lately,” I answered.
“You should try something different. Instead of making yourself miserable over Lucy, maybe you could put your energy into a different story. Anything, just to work out your frustrations.”
I said nothing.
“It’s just that you’re in a much better mood when your stories are going well. Almost like a different guy.”
I laughed quietly.
“I’m sorry but it’s true,” she said.
“So you think I should focus on fiction while a real kid gets brushed under the rug?”
“I think you should take better care of yourself.”
“Same end. Nothing changes.”
“You don’t have to give up hope.”
“Hope? Are you serious?”
“I am.”
“Why is everyone so willing to let this kid go?”
Laney sighed. Looked away. I guess it wasn’t a fair question.
After a pause I said, “Sorry. It’s not your fault.”
She nodded, asked, “Have you talked to Danny?”
“He’s stumped and doesn’t want to admit it. Wants me to become a cop or else mind my business.”
Laney said nothing. But she was clearly thinking about something. I could see it on her face.
“You think I should?”
“Become a cop? No. It wouldn’t work. You’re way too independent.”
“We agree on something at least.”
“Now and then.”
I said, “Guess I should let you go. I’ll take my food and get out of your hair.”
“I am busy,” she admitted.
I lit a cigarette while Laney went inside to pack up my food. When she came back out a few minutes later I ditched the butt. My lasagna was in a hot tin bowl. There was soft white bread in a paper sleeve. There was a raw pound of steak wrapped in foil for Frank.
“Need some money for the steak?” I asked.
Laney’s parents will rarely take money from me or my parents. On account of all the business they get from campers. Our families have known one another for decades. But sometimes they have a hard time seeing how Frank fits into the equation.
“Don’t worry about it,” she said.
I took the bag and hugged her with my other arm. She said that I smelled like smoke. I got in the van. Started it and put the window down. Laney was just standing there. Looking tired and concerned.
“I’m off tomorrow,” she said. “Maybe I’ll stop by. See how you’re doing.”
“Sounds good,” I said. “You know how Frank gets upset when you don’t visit.”
Laney smiled. “I’m sure he tosses and turns all night.”
She waved and disappeared through the kitchen door. I went off to find a quiet place to eat.
10
About fifteen minutes east of Saulsbury I entered the small city of Franklin. It’s an old mill town of about eight thousand residents that’s gone slowly but steadily downhill for the past fifty years. East of Franklin is the nicer town of Trenton. A town that’s grown up around cheap gas stations beside the highway and tax free outlet malls. In Trenton there’s also a Walmart. That’s where I ended up after dinner.
But I wasn’t there to shop. I was there to check the big bulletin board in the entryway.
The parking lot was jammed. The sun was sinking low over the horizon, the sky was turning colors, and the lot was darkening. Many of the vehicles had out-of-state plates. In the back corner of the lot there were motor homes parked in oversized spots. Holiday weekends. People everywhere. Like ants scurrying around a rotting tree.
I found a spot near the automotive side of the building and parked. Told Frank I’d just
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