Time Thief: A Time Thief Novel Read Online Free Page A

you kidding? I’d be more likely to throw myself on you and kiss you in gratitude.”
    His eyes twinkled at me with a roguish glint that had me grinning. “I’m in a bit of a hurry right now; otherwise I would take you up on that offer.”
    “Hot art acquisition waiting for you?” I asked, climbing out of the car once he had stopped in front of a tiny gas station with an attached one-car service bay. On the far side of the building a shiny new tow truck sat in the shade of the ever-present pine trees.
    “As you said, I wish. Unfortunately what awaits me is a visit to my grandmother and her nightmarish herd of five pugs. Hello? Is someone here able to help me?”
    I followed him into the minuscule office, filled almost to capacity by a man in dirty blue overalls and, inexplicably, a knitted hat with antlers and deer ears.
    “Whatcha need?” the large man asked as he shifted off a hard metal stool and gave us both the once-over. “Gas is self-service. Pay in advance at the pump.”
    “My friend here is in need of a tow.”
    I listened silently as Gregory described the location of Eloise, and tossed a hundred-dollar bill across the cluttered counter just as casually as I might flick a piece of lint off my shoulder.
    The tow man grunted an acknowledgment, pocketed the money, and hoisted his bulk back onto the stool at the same time he bellowed out a name. “Norm!”
    Another rotund man emerged from the depths of the service stall, wiping his filthy hands on a crusty rag. “Yeah?”
    “Got a tow for you. ’Bout five miles out of town between here and Heron Creek Road. Old VW.”
    Norm hawked and spat, nodding as he trundled out to the tow truck.
    I watched him nervously, and wondered aloud if I should go with him to ensure Eloise’s safety.
    “Can’t. Against the law,” the station owner said before picking up a hunting and fishing magazine, and burying his nose in it.
    “Don’t be such an automotive mother hen,” Gregory said as he escorted me out of the confines of the small office, and steered me over to a bench that sat in the shade opposite the station. I eased myself down carefully, mindful of splinters, since the bench was made out of a roughly hewn split log. It marked the outer boundary of what was obviously a little picnic area, complete with two squirrels who were mating under a beat-up picnic table, and a trash can that—if odor was anything to go by—was housing the several-days-old corpse of a large mammal. Some of the mountain sagebrush that Dalton was so allergic to lay just beyond the area. “Your car will be fine. I hate to leave you by yourself, but if I don’t get to my grandmother, she’ll rip several strips off me.”
    “Sorry to delay you,” I said, and I was, although not so much that I didn’t add, “Enjoy the pugs.”
    He made a face. “I’m hardly likely to. They’re little monsters.”
    “Aww, they’re so cute and adorable, how can you say that? I love pugs. I’ve always wanted to have one, but just haven’t been able to get enough saved to afford it. Do you have far to go?”
    “You’ve never met my grandmother’s beasts. She treats them like they are human, letting them in her caravan, and eating food she cooks. And no, she’s staying about a mile from here. Are you familiar with the Appleton Mill in the Umpqua Forest?”
    “Not really, no.” I searched my memory for grains of information. “I know the forest is near here because I’ve seen a ton of signs for various camping facilities.”
    He nodded. “My family is residing in the forest at the present.”
    “Residing? I didn’t think they let people build there.”
    “Not in houses. In caravans…er…RVs, you call them.”
    “Now, that’s the way I’ve always felt camping should be done,” I said with a smile of appreciation. “None of this sleeping out in a mildewed canvas tent that every animal stronger than a slug can get into. Is your family back-to-nature kind of people? I heard there’s a