The first heavy drops of rain splattered the windshield just as they burst from a dark tunnel of trees into a gently unfolding valley. The land went from thick underbrush to painstakingly cleared fields, framed with white painted fences and dotted with red farmhouses. If Dahlonega was tucked up in the mountains, then Suches was a remote northern outpost. Handful of farms. Requisite double-wides. Too many boarded-up buildings.

Kimberly tried not to blink so she wouldn’t miss it.

Too late.

“That says T.W.O.,” Rainie just got out, finger pointing, as Sal blew by on Highway 60.

“Wait, there’s Dale’s,” Kimberly echoed as Sal swung his head left and totally missed the convenience store on the right.

He scowled, tapped his brakes, fishtailed on the rain-slicked road, and finally did the sensible thing and slowed down. They came to a stone schoolhouse-Smallest public school in Georgia! Kimberly read on the sign-and Sal turned around.

They hit Dale’s first, pulling up outside the gas pumps, then making a dash for the glass doors through the pelting rain.

Inside, Kimberly registered three things at once: a blast of warmth, the smell of homemade chili, and an entire display of bright orange hunting gear. Dale’s, apparently, did carry a little of everything.

“Is that chili I smell?” Sal was already inquiring at the counter. “Well, as long as we’re here…”

The back part of Dale’s included a couple of tables. They had a seat and an older gentleman wandered over to assist. Not Dale, they learned, but Ron. Dale was out.

He didn’t explain, and judging by the reserved look on his face, Kimberly guessed Ron had already pegged them as outsiders and not in the need to know. He took their order, brought their food, then returned to meticulously wiping down tables.

Sal waited until halfway through his chili to get into it. Ron was cleaning the table beside them when Sal brought out the sketch and said, in the nonchalant voice favored by detectives and TV actors, “Say, do you happen to know this fellow here?”

Ron wasn’t fooled. He looked from the sketch to Sal and back to the sketch. Then he shrugged and returned to spritzing tables.

“He’s a person of interest,” Sal said with more emphasis.

Ron paused, thought about it, went back to wiping.

“You might have seen him with a teenage boy,” Kimberly spoke up. “Maybe they live around here.”

“Boys,” Ron corrected. “I’ve seen him with two boys. One older. One younger. They’re not much for talking.”

Sal set down his spoon. “Do you know their names?”

“No, sir.”

“Are they local?”

“Nah, not locals. But they come up a fair amount, ’specially last fall. Must’ve seen ’em half a dozen times. The man mostly. The boys waited in the truck. Except one time-the younger one had to use the john, so the older one brought him in. Looked like trouble to me, those three, but they just did their business and cleared on out. Who am I to judge?”

They’d all stopped eating and stared at Ron, who was still tending to his duties.

“Can you describe the older boy?” Kimberly pressed.

Ron shrugged. “Dunno. Teenage boy, seventeen, eighteen years old. White. Maybe five ten or so. Scrawny thing. Wore Army cargo pants about two sizes too big, the way boys do nowadays. Kept his hands in his pockets, walking all slouched over. Like I said, didn’t talk much. Just came in, delivered the younger boy, waited, then left.”

“And the younger boy?”

Another shrug. “Eight or nine. Shorter brown hair. He was bundled up with a heavy sweatshirt and orange hunting vest. On the small side would be my guess, but hard to tell with all those clothes on. The man had on a nice pair of hiking boots, but the kids were just wearing tennis shoes. I remember thinking at the time it’d be a miracle if they didn’t twist an ankle. But you know, good boots are expensive and with kids growing so fast…Dunno. Up here, some kids come walking in wearing more than I make in a week’s pay, all geared up for their annual hiking weekend. Takes all kinds, I guess.”

“What did the man say when he came in?” Sal spoke up urgently. “Did he buy anything?”

Ron stopped wiping long enough to search his memory. “Bottle of water. Candy bar. Oh, and some crickets. We have ’em for the fishermen and that got him all excited, so he bought a container. Don’t think he was fishing, though, he was dressed all wrong.”

“He ask about any particular hiking trails, mention where he’d been, anything like that?”

Ron shrugged again. “Not that I remember.”

“Did anyone else see him and the boys?”

“Oh, all sorts. Fall’s busy around here. Not like at the moment.” Now he sounded almost apologetic.

“How did he pay?” Rainie asked.

Ron pursed his lips. “I’d guess cash, only ’cause it wasn’t that big a purchase.”

“Did you happen to notice his vehicle?” Kimberly’s turn.

“No, ma’am. Little too busy in the fall for car shopping.”

“Did the man interact with the boys?” Quincy asked. “Say anything to them when they entered the store?”

“Mmmmm, not much. The boys came in.” Ron paused, seemed to be picking his way through his memory. “The older one looked at the man, said, ‘The kid’s gotta pee, whatta you want me to do about it?’ then led the kid to the john. Man didn’t say anything, just looked annoyed. He’d probably told the boys to stay in the car. You know how kids are.”

“He didn’t use a name?” Quincy pressed. “The older boy called the younger boy ‘kid’?”

“Yes, sir, that’s how I remember it.”

“Seems to imply they aren’t brothers,” Quincy murmured. “The teenager’s distancing himself from the younger one. Objectifying him. Interesting.”

“Do you remember which direction they were coming from when they turned in here?” Rainie asked. “From the north or south?”

“No, ma’am.”

“And was it a particular time of day? You saw them in the morning, afternoon…?”

“Afternoon, ma’am, but only because that’s my shift.”

Rainie nodded, pursed her lips. They all three looked at Sal again.

“Anyone else you can think of who might be able to shed more light on this man and the two boys?” Sal pressed. “It’s important that we learn his name. He’s wanted for questioning regarding a very serious matter.”

Ron, however, shook his head.

“Like I said, they’re not local. We just saw ’em a lot in the fall. Maybe as late as early December. Can’t really remember now, to tell you the truth. You might want to try out T.W.O. Even the tourists gotta eat and since he never bought much here…”

“Okay, we’ll do that.” Sal fished out a card, handed it over. “If you think of anything, or see him or the boys again, give me a call. And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t broadcast this conversation too widely. We want to find the man, not spook him.”

Ron had finally registered the state police shield on Sal’s card. His eyes widened a notch. He stuck the card in his front pocket, using two fingers to pat it into place.

“Is it drugs, sir? Used to be all you could get in these mountains was moonshine. Now everything’s meth, meth, meth. Ruining our county it is.”

“He’s trouble,” Sal said simply. “If you see him again, don’t say a word to him. Just get me on the phone and we’ll take care of the rest.”

They finished their lunch. Kimberly found a six-pack of pudding. Rainie armed herself with a Snickers. Quincy topped off his coffee. They hit the road.

The manager at T.W.O. didn’t recognize the drawing, or remember a man in a baseball cap with two boys. Two Wheels Only specialized in the biker set, which was not to say they didn’t have some other business, but it was smaller. He’d keep his eyes open.

The rain was coming down in sheets now. They splashed their way through the muddy parking lot before piling into Sal’s car. With the bustling metropolis of Suches exhausted, they had no choice but to turn back toward Dahlonega.