As she descended the broad steps of the bus, she searched for her brother’s baby blue clunker of a pickup truck. The heap was barely legal, but Bobby loved it. Two hours ago she’d left him a message that she was being dropped off close by, but neither the truck nor her brother were visible through the light misty rain.

Grumbling at his absence, she began slogging through the mushy gravel on the shoulder of the road. The bus was inconvenient, but her Jeep wouldn’t make the long trip up. The old vehicle barely made it to the pool where she trained. And lately it hadn’t even done that. She’d had to hoof the five miles from her apartment for the last month, pleasing her coach to no end.

About a half mile down the road was an obscure turnoff for the bumpy dirt road that led to Bobby’s house. The hazy sprinkle soon shifted to a steady downpour.

Harper pulled her jacket collar taut around her neck to keep from getting absolutely soaked, but she knew it was futile. Rain seeped through her jeans and flooded her sneakers. Being wet was a way of life for her, but a warm, comfortable pool was a far cry from the chilly Oregon rains. She just hoped that the clothes in her backpack were staying somewhat dry.

The smell of wet vegetation and cool air caused her to sniff a little and expel a moist cloud of breath. It was colder than normal for late October. Maybe Bobby was busy building a nice welcoming fire for her in the woodstove. Hopeful, she squished forward through the puddles and pine needles.

About a hundred yards from Bobby’s road, she heard the familiar rumbling of his truck’s archaic motor. Seconds later the blue cab poked its nose out from the trees, gravel spewing everywhere from the sudden braking.

Bobby glanced at her through the open driver-side window. Rain pounded his face, which held a look of obvious delight; the look quickly changed to one of alarm.