Found by the Rivers Read online

  Found by the Rivers

  Liberty Freer

  This book is a work of fiction. Any reference to historical events, real people, or real locations are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. (This also includes the cover image and/or cover model(s) appearing on the cover. The context of this book does not in any way depict the personal life said cover model(s). Image is licensed and used purely for fictional purpose only.)

  Fist electronic edition September 2019

  Copyright © 2019 by Liberty Freer

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotation in a book review.

  Cover design by May Dawney Designs

  Editing by Kelly Hartigan (XterraWeb)

  editing.xterraweb.com

  Proofreading by Moonlight Proofreading

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 1

  I quickly dig through a box in the spare room. My hands shake as I dig through the layers of fabric. The blood in my ears pounds to the sound of my frantic heart.

  Still nothing.

  With hurried steps, I move to another box. This one is filled with smelly shoes, old purses, and outdated magazines. I turn the box over and then hurriedly search the pockets of worn purses. I’m almost positive that I’ve checked this box before. The floorboards creak in the other room, and I freeze. I hold my breath until my lungs are burning. I need to move, to leave out the window, but I can’t make my legs work.

  The door flies open with a loud bang, and I fall from my crouched position onto my butt. With my hands braced behind myself, I look up at angry brown eyes. I knew there was a chance I wouldn’t make it out unscathed.

  “It’s been two weeks,” David states in a cold tone.

  What, he’s counting now? Two weeks is nothing. I slowly get to my feet. My eyes dart to the open window. David smirks and steps to the left, blocking that escape.

  I clear my throat. “I came by the other day to drop some money with Mom. You weren't here.” The lie rolls off my tongue easily. I’ve gotten really good at lying, not that I like that I have to. It’s either that or take a beating. I’ll probably take a beating anyways, but the lie might make it less severe.

  “Bullshit. If you did, there’d be beer. There ain’t no beer. Money ain’t due for another week anyways.” David steps closer.

  Shit. I didn’t know that. It’s hard to keep the days of the month straight.

  He runs a hand through greasy black hair. “You can’t keep running off anymore. I’ve been looking for you. Where you keep going? You got a boyfriend?”

  There might not be beer, but I can smell the whiskey on his breath.

  My mother steps into the room and snorts. “She ain’t got no boyfriend. Hell, she ain’t even got any friends.”

  Her pale blue shirt has brown stains all down the front. I don’t meet her eyes. I quit doing that a long time ago. I can’t stand to look at her face.

  David crosses his arms. “Since you’re here and paying early, you got the rest of the rent?”

  I want to scream at them that I barely live here anymore. Shake them and tell them that a seventeen-year-old shouldn’t have to pay rent. I can barely afford to pay the two hundred dollars a month I’ve had to pay since this piece of shit decided I should contribute financially at the age of fifteen. “Like I told you, I dropped some off with her.” I point in the direction of my mother. “I’ll bring the rest when I get paid this weekend.” Lie, lie, lie.

  “You hear that, honey? Alena gave you some money.” David turns to my mother whose eyebrows are cinched together.

  She’s thinking that I could have given her the money, but she was too drunk at the time to remember. Even if it’s possible, she wouldn’t admit it.

  My mother shakes her head. “I ain’t get no money.” She turns and walks out the door, leaving me with the devil.

  I like to think she doesn’t watch me get beat because she loves me. More lies.

  David grins; he looks sadistic. “You lying? You know what my dad would do when I’d lie? He’d get the belt or paddle. Do I need to start using those on your hardheaded ass, Lena?” He looks me over with a sneer. “Why you always lying? When you gonna learn to fall in line?”

  Fall in line? This is the second time in the past few weeks he’s been on my case about my whereabouts. Normally, he and my mom don’t hassle me as long as they don’t have to see me. I don’t answer him, and I barely flinch as his open palm meets my jaw. My head moves at the impact, and the noise of the slap echoes off the walls in the spare bedroom. My cheek and jaw sting. I fucking hate him. I drop low, avoiding his arms as he reaches out to grab me. I push myself up and manage to make it through the doorway of the spare room.

  My heart is pounding in my chest, letting me know that I’m alive, fueling me. My black combat boots pound against the linoleum in the hallway. As soon as the cold doorknob is in my hand, I twist and yank the door open. I leap off the small porch and land in the grass. I stumble to my knees but quickly right myself. The mistake of falling has cost me time. I expect to be grabbed from behind. The urge to look over my shoulder is overwhelming, but I ignore it, pushing myself forward.

  Once I make it a good six houses away, I know I’m safe. David wouldn’t want to draw attention by chasing me down the road. I glance back at the house just to be sure. I shake my head. I bet Grandma would be disappointed. Although my memories of her are vague, I remember what her house looked like when she owned it. The yard wasn’t full of junk like it is now, and the tan paint wasn’t dirty and peeling. My parents let it go to shit.

  I shrug off my green hoodie and then tie it around my waist. The streetlights flicker off as the sun begins to rise. I make my way to Tate’s, the town’s only gas station; it also serves as a small grocery store.

  Mr. Tate, the owner, is unlocking the door as I approach. He has to jiggle the key in the lock to get it to work. Everyone keeps telling him that it’s time for a new door. I’d fix the roof before I fixed the door. Or maybe just condemn the whole building and start new. He says keeping everything original adds to the authenticity of small town charm.

  This town that he loves so much is going to shit, but I don’t have the heart to tell him that. New drug dealers are popping up left and right, making the statement Missouri is the Meth Capital of the United States undoubtedly true.

  “Hey, Lena.” He scratches the gray scruff on his chin. “I thought you were off today?” His bushy eyebrows come together and then shoot up. “Oh! Did you find your birth certificate and social security card?”

  I shake my head as I pull the brown leather book bag from my shoulder to grab some money. “I was just looking, but no luck. Looks like I’ll be working off the books a little lo
nger. I just came by to get some water.” I begin counting the change in the palm of my hand so that I don’t have to look him in the eyes. “Mom’s still on this distilled water kick,” I lie. Mr. Tate is cool, but I don’t want him to know that I’m not living with my mom and David.

  He gives me a sad smile as he opens the door. “I’m sure you’ll find your card soon.”

  Music blares as a blue van pulls up with tourists, according to the out-of-state license plate. They must be on their way to Hannibal or maybe St. Louis. The people passing through are usually headed to one or the other. Living in between both is good business for Tate’s.

  Laughter floats out the open passenger side window. The van’s sliding door opens, revealing several middle-aged women and men. A woman steps out, her long skirt blowing gently in the breeze. She’s wearing a big yellow hat. It looks a little silly, but somehow, she pulls it off. Her eyes are watery from laughing so hard. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed that hard.

  A woman wearing a flowery top under overalls stumbles out and into the arms of the woman with the yellow hat. They cling to each other, holding each other up as they laugh. The other passengers shuffle out, some grinning and some laughing. There are friendly touches here and there between everyone. Their happiness comes easily to them. My heart clenches tightly in my chest. My lungs seize.

  “Lena, you coming in?”

  I take a breath back into reality. My lungs still feel heavy, but a few more breaths and they seem to be working properly. “Fuck, yeah, I’m coming.” I follow him in, giving one last glance to the happy strangers.

  “Language, Lena.”

  I laugh. “Mr. Tate, they’re just words that are used to put emphasis on other words. Cuss words aren’t always a bad thing.” I grab a jug of water. “Example. This water is the fucking best water in the damn city.” I grab a second jug. “This water is the best water in the city.” I give him a pointed look. “Which one would you choose? Be honest.”

  He swats the air with a chuckle. “Go. Leave the money on the counter. I’ll see ya Friday.”

  “See you then,” I say, dropping the change next to the register.

  I hurry outside and then to the back of the building where the edge of the woods is.

  “Yo, Lenny.”

  I cringe at the name. I don’t have to turn around to know it’s Alex. He nicknamed me Lenny when we were little kids. He says it’s because I act like a boy. He’s just sore because I beat him in basketball. Every. Single. Time. I turn around and lift my chin in greeting. “What’s up, Alex?” He’s up early.

  He lights a cigarette. “Heading home.” Smoke leaves his lips in a steady stream. He runs a hand through blond, wavy hair that reaches his chin. “Mike had a crazy party last night. You should come next time, Lenny.”

  That’s not going to happen. I might play the occasional basketball game with the locals but I’m not stupid enough to get wrapped up with them. I’ve been to a few parties, but I don’t go to socialize. Alex is the only one I associate with on a regular basis. I shrug. “I’m not really the party type.”

  “Yeah, I know.” He stiffens at the sound of sirens in the distance. “I gotta go. If anyone asks, you didn’t see me.”

  I roll my eyes as he takes off towards the trailer park. That boy’s a trip. He better slow down before he gets caught up in something he can’t turn back from. I make sure no one's around before slipping into the woods. I turn right at the willow tree and find the narrow path I created years ago. The path gets a little wider the deeper I go.

  I love it out here. No mother to yell at me. No David to boss me around. Just me and nature. Out here, I’m free. As I walk through the forest, an overwhelming sense of peace washes over me. This moment is perfect. The golden beams of light make the freshly spun spider webs, still damp with morning dew, sparkle like they’ve been sprinkled with glitter. The trees are different shades of green. Tiny purple and yellow flowers lace the ground.

  I feel lucky that I get to witness this. It probably sounds crazy, but if I were to die right now, I'd be okay with that because I've seen true beauty. I'm not a sappy person at all, but something about being out in nature, alone, gets to me every fucking time. Well, not so much in winter. The cold weather can kiss my ass.

  The sound of the river means I’m almost home. The trail ends at a small sandbar on the edge of the river. My oasis. I sigh in relief at the sight of my red tent. I’ve never seen anyone this far out, but that doesn’t stop me from worrying that someone will come across my camp and take my stuff when I’m in town.

  Staying up all night to scope out my mom’s house has me exhausted. I fucked up though; I thought they were asleep. I sprawl out on my sleeping bag, leaving the tent flap open so I have a view of the water. Kicking off my boots, I rub the bottoms of my feet in the cool sand.

  As soon as I close my eyes, the faint sound of an engine has me bolting upright. I hold my breath, wanting absolute silence, but my heartbeat pounds in my ears. After a few seconds, I dart out the tent. I definitely hear an engine, probably a boat. I don’t think a four-wheeler would be this far out.

  Shit, shit, shit. I work at a hurried pace shoving my fishing poles and travel-sized grill into the woods to be hidden by the trees. My heartbeat speeds up as the sound gets louder. My hands shake as I drag the last thing into the woods—my tent. A metal skiff comes into view, and my bright fucking red tent, same color as my hair, begs to be seen. I couldn’t get it as far into the woods as I would have liked.

  I hold my breath as the boat slows down. Two male passengers spot my tent. Fuck. I take a few small steps back and then move slowly to hide behind the large trunk of a tree. The boat engine cuts off completely. Muffled voices become louder as they move my way.

  I’m cursed or something. My mom used to say it was my red hair, a sign of the devil, a beacon of evil, and the cause of my bad luck. Can’t trust anything she says though. I’ve had a lot of good luck in my life. Like this spot at the river. I’ve been safe here for nearly two years.

  My tent that houses everything I need begins rocking side to side like it’s blowing in the wind. The damn dudes are dragging it away and leaving me no other choice; I step out of hiding. The two guys are eyeing my camp like they’ve just hit the jackpot. The tallest one has jet-black hair that’s shaved on the sides, but the top is long and messy. His five o’clock shadow highlights his strong jaw. He’s sporting dark blue jeans and a white tee.

  The blond beside him is a couple inches shorter and on the leaner side. His khaki shorts and light-blue polo give him a preppy look. His blue eyes meet mine and his mouth drops.

  I can imagine what he’s seeing. My hair is down and wild, the clothes I’m wearing are dirty and torn, and, to top it all off, I feel a bruise forming along my jaw. Stupid David. He usually doesn’t mark my face. He knows better. The people in town have big mouths.

  The blond elbows his bodybuilding friend in the ribs. “Kelsoe, look,” he says, his unblinking eyes trained on me.

  The dark-haired one, Kelsoe, looks up. His dark green eyes scan the trees and then land on me. His hands fall away from my tent. He blinks a few times like what he’s seeing isn’t real. I’m sure they don’t come across random girls in the woods often.

  His head tilts to the side. “This yours?” His voice is deeper than the blond’s.

  My knife feels heavy in my back pocket. I nod my head. “It's mine.” I stay rooted to the ground, my bare feet inches away from the sand and feet away from two huge dudes.

  “What are you doing all the way out here?” Kelsoe asks at the same time the blond asks me my name.

  “I'm camping.”

  Kelsoe frowns, looking me over. I know what he’s thinking; this looks less like camping and more like homeless. The blond whispers something to Kelsoe, and Kelsoe responds by shaking his head. The blond looks a little shocked by that response, but he recovers quickly, putting on a smile.

  “I'm Andrew, and this is Kelsoe Hayes. You camping out here a
ll by yourself?”

  Kelsoe scoffs and then heads towards the boat. I keep my eyes on him, making sure he isn't going to try something stupid. Something tells me he isn't though. He looks like he doesn't want to be here anymore. Perfect for me.

  I turn my attention to Andrew. “My last day. I was just packing up to go home.” True, because now that these assholes have seen my spot, I'll have to find a new one.

  “I don't recognize you. Are you from out of town?”

  I chew my nail. Is he trying to squeeze information out of me? Maybe, he just assumes we would have gone to the same school since he only looks to be a year or two older than me.

  “I need to be getting back.” I turn slightly, dismissing him while still keeping him in my periphery.

  “We've got a place a couple miles downriver. There's plenty of room and food if you ever need a place to stay. No questions asked.”

  My eyes narrow, but I don't look at him. Who the fuck is this dude? People don't just offer strangers a place to stay. How can he even have a place? Most people our age live with their parents. Completely ignoring him, I begin breaking down the tent.

  Kelsoe turns around, making his way back over to us. “Stop wasting your time, Drew. She’s obviously some stuck-up little bitch mad at Mommy and Daddy.”

  I grit my teeth at Kelsoe's words, but I continue breaking down the tent. I want to hit Kelsoe with a tent pole.

  “You don't really believe that. I mean…Look,” Andrew whispers, but it’s loud enough I hear him.

  I turn to them with what I hope is a pleasant smile. “Okay, you fucking assholes. I'm trying to break down camp, and you’re fucking bugging me. Please leave.”

  Their eyes widen briefly, and then Kelsoe's narrow. “Let's fucking go, Drew. I've got shit to do today.”

  Andrew looks like he wants to say something, but my now angry face, and his boy’s words shut down whatever he’s thinking. Andrew seems to have good intentions, but he needs to focus on someone else. I continue to pack as they head back to the boat. I'll have to leave my stuff here while I scope out a new spot. Lugging everything around during the day will look suspicious. I'll be able to move everything at night. I breathe a sigh of relief as I watch them leave.