Page 1 of The Sunny Side (Rojo 2nd Generation: Rojo Police Department #3)

THIRTEEN YEARS AGO

B RAWLEY

I stoked the fire with the stick I’d found and glanced over at my friend Orson, who was lying on his sleeping bag across from me. Without thinking, I asked, “Do you ever wonder what you’re going to do when you get out of school?”

Orson sighed before he said, “Right now, I’m more worried about graduating than anything.”

“You know we’re weird, right? We’re sixteen! Aren’t we supposed to be somewhere chugging beer and trying to get laid?”

“I know that’s what everyone else does, but I’d rather be out here where it’s quiet.”

“I wouldn’t mind a beer or . . . Man, did you see Amalia at the cookout yesterday?”

“I don’t pay any attention to what she looks like because she’s my fucking cousin .”

I gave a great bark of laughter before I said, “Shit! I didn’t even think about that.”

“Let’s try not to.”

“Technically, she’s not related by blood since Creed is her stepdad and you were adopted. She’s freaking hot, man.”

“You’re still talking about my cousin, asshole.”

I chuckled and didn’t really mean it when I apologized. I took the opportunity to change the subject and asked, “What does it take to be a park ranger in Colorado?”

“Why Colorado?” Orson asked. “Aren’t there parks in Texas?”

“Yes, but there aren’t many close to Rojo. If I’m gonna work somewhere, I want to be close to my family, and you guys are like family, so Colorado would work.”

“If we’re so much like family, then why are you eyeing Amalia like a pervert?” Orson asked.

“Have you even looked at her?” I asked, more to rile my friend up than anything. “She came out of the pool in that swimsuit, and I damn near embarrassed myself.”

“Like you’re doing right now?” Orson asked sarcastically. “Actually, I was shocked when I saw Posie yesterday. When did she get so . . .”

“She’s my fucking sister, Orson!”

“Exactly,” Orson drawled.

I leaned against the boulder behind me and stared at the fire for a few minutes.

I had just opened my mouth to ask Orson a question, something unrelated to any of the girls in our family, when I heard a loud crash in the distance.

The sound reverberated off the mountains around us for a few seconds before there was a pained scream that echoed right behind it.

“Oh, shit!” Orson exclaimed as he sat up straight and looked around. “Where the fuck did that come from?”

I stood up and got my bearings before I said, “There’s a road down there that leads up to those fancy houses on the mountain.”

There was another anguished cry, and Orson stood up and said, “We’ve gotta find that car. There’s hardly ever anyone on that road, so there’s no telling when someone might see it if there’s been an accident.”

“Shit! I forgot the satellite phone,” I grumbled.

“Dammit, Brawley!”

“Let’s go find the car to see if we can help, and then we’ll figure out what to do.”

While we waited to make sure that the fire was completely out, Orson and I repacked our things into our backpacks and then took off in the direction the screams seemed to be coming from.

It was slow going down the mountain with only our headlamps for light and the occasional beam of moonlight when we came upon a break in the trees.

It took almost an hour to get to the road, and then the question was which way to go from there.

“Should we split up?” Orson asked.

“Shh,” I whispered as I stood in the middle of the road and let my senses take over like my dad had taught me to do during the countless hours I’d spent exploring with him.

The regular sounds of the forest faded into the background as I listened for sounds that didn’t belong.

I took a deep breath in through my nose and caught a whiff of something that wasn’t natural and then smelled it again when a slight breeze ruffled my hair.

I pointed left and said, “Let’s go that way. ”

“Okay, nature boy,” Orson said as he rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say.”

We hiked up the two-lane road, walking down the center line without any worry because we knew we’d be able to hear a car coming well before it got to us.

I saw a break in the trees up ahead and veered in that direction.

There were fresh tire tracks in the dirt next to the asphalt, and the smell of burned oil and plastic was getting stronger.

“They ran off the road,” I said as I tried to see through the broken trees. I bellowed, “Can you hear me?”

It only took a second before a female voice answered with, “Help! Help!”

“We’re coming!” Orson yelled.

We carefully picked our way down the steep embankment, holding onto trees to keep ourselves from slipping down the mountain uncontrollably. After a few minutes of careful progress, an upside-down car came into view. I gasped when I saw the twisted metal.

“How the fuck did that happen?” Orson asked.

The car was a crumbled mess after taking out a swath of trees before a larger and sturdier tree stopped its progress. As if the sight of the twisted metal wasn’t bad enough, the fact that it was upside down made it even more terrifying.

“Holy shit,” I whispered as we got closer to the wreckage. A little louder, I asked, “Are you hurt?”

“Yes!” a woman called out in agony. “My legs are stuck, and I can’t move!”

“Fuck! What do we do?” Orson asked.

I looked at him and thought about the best course of action. The houses at the top of the mountain may or may not have people in them. However, I knew they had electricity, and since they were all obviously expensive and extravagant, I assumed they would also have Wi-Fi.

“The houses at the top are closer than any place I can think of at the bottom,” I mused out loud. “One of us needs to go up and find help, but let’s check her out first so we can see what we’re dealing with.”

“You’re better at that shit than I am, boy scout,” Orson said as we stopped just a few feet from the wreck.

“And you’ve been running cross country up and down these mountains for how long now?” I asked. “It makes sense for me to stay here and for you to go for help. Stop at the first house you see.”

“What if there isn’t anybody there?”

“Then break in and call for help. If there’s Wi-Fi, you can make your phone work, right?”

“I’ll figure it out,” Orson said as he squatted down and peered into the wreckage. “I’m going to get help, okay?”

“Don’t leave me alone! Please!”

I got down on my hands and knees and crawled closer to the car before I said, “My name is Brawley Dumont, ma’am. I’m going to see what I can do to make you more comfortable. I won’t leave your side until help gets here, okay?”

“Are you the only one in the car?” Orson asked. “Tell me exactly what hurts so I can tell the 911 operator.”

“I’m alone. I think both my arm and leg are broken. My head is bleeding and really hurts.”

“Did you lose consciousness?” I asked.

She didn’t really answer my question when she said, “Everything was spinning, and it was so dark . . .”

“Well, it’s nighttime, and your car flipped around like an Olympic gymnast, so that makes sense,” I said as I dug through the outside pocket of my backpack.

I pulled out a bundle of flares and handed two to Orson before I set the others aside.

“Set out two flares: one about a hundred feet down the mountain from here and the other one right at the edge of the crash site. Then go up the mountain as fast as you can and find a way to get help.”

“Will do. Be careful,” Orson warned.

“You too.”

I felt Orson move away and then listened to his progress going back toward the road before I brushed away the leaves and pine needles until I found dirt.

Once the area was clear, I popped the flare and planted it upright in the dirt and then lay down on my stomach to get a look at the woman inside the car.

I was surprised to find that she was probably my age.

What didn’t surprise me was the look of fear on her face, along with her shallow breathing and the rapid pulse I could see beating in her neck.

I knew that shock was going to be a problem, especially since she was hanging upside down, but I wasn’t sure there was anything I could do about it because of the car’s precarious position balanced against the tree.

“What’s your name?”

“Clarisse.”

“That’s a cool name.” I said as I dug through my pack for a bandage to put over the wound on her forehead. “Wasn’t that the name of the woman in Silence of the Lambs ?”

“I don’t think my parents considered that when they named me.”

“I like it. It’s unique,” I said.

“Your name is Brawley?” she asked as I leaned in and dabbed at the cut with an alcohol swab and then pressed a bandage to her skin.

Once I was finished, I answered, “Yeah. That’s definitely not one you hear very often, huh?”

“I like it. It’s unique,” the girl said, mimicking my response.

“I’m gonna look around, okay?” I asked as I used my flashlight to look the car over.

I looked at the tree behind it, and my stomach dropped when I saw it was hanging on by a thread.

It seemed impossible that the weight of the car was being held by the trunk of a tree that cracked and damaged.

When the girl inside sneezed, I heard the broken wood creaking as if a slight breeze might make it snap.

Under my breath, I muttered, “Oh, fuck.”

I schooled my face and went back around the car so I could see her again. She asked, “Am I going to die tonight, Brawley?”

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” I told her determinedly as I thought about what I should do. “I need you to be really still, okay?”

“I’m against a tree, right? Is it about to break?”

I didn’t want to scare her, but then again, I wanted to make sure she understood how dire the circumstances were, so I told her, “I’m afraid it will snap if you move around too much, but I can’t be sure. Maybe if you’re really still, it will hold until help gets here.”