Finding Home: 4 - Brianna

Bree paced at the car rental shop. The number of customers ahead of her could be counted on one hand, so there should be no reason for the delay when there were two employees present.

She could hear the person in the front struggle with signing up. They were having issues with the mode of payment as the credit card company put a hold on the approval.

Bree usually had the perseverance to stand on the sidelines and listen to people’s issues, but today she was getting short. As if sensing her anger, the other staff member finished making small talk with the person they were helping and directed them to another employee to get their car.

When she got the approval to find her brother, Bree immediately booked the rental. The place he last called from was an hour away from the closest airport, so public transportation was definitely out of the question.

Chicago had very awful traffic, and they had trains and buses everywhere, so there never was a need to get a car. And now she wondered if maybe they should have bought a vehicle, making it easier for her to travel and find Bran.

Time was of the essence and trivial matters such as waiting for her car rental were pushing the level of her patience.

Bree was employed as a junior police officer, at a small town in Chicago and as soon as the training ended, she applied for a leave of absence, not caring whether she would lose her job when she returned.

Bran was the only family she had, and the urgency to find him was more critical than anything else in the world. 

She told the chief of police about her plight and he did not hesitate to let her go, for he knew she would just get distracted the entire time until her brother showed up.

After getting the cryptic message, Bree contacted the local ranger station and county sheriff near where Bran disappeared, but when none of them bothered to call her back after a week, she took action and took a flight to talk to them directly.

The town of Silvercreek in Washington looked like any sleepy town on the outskirts of the metropolitan area. It was quiet and remote, and though Bree liked the city, there was something about a small town that appealed to her.

Bree researched the area during her flight. She wanted to be acquainted with the town so she wouldn’t waste her time searching in areas that were off the trails.

The main street had a gift shop, hardware store, and grocery. On another street were the motels and a gas station. A few blocks over was the one and only diner that doubled as a biker’s bar at night. 

She hadn’t planned to stay for long. Her goal was to trace Bran’s whereabouts as soon as possible, so Bree made a beeline for the sheriff’s station to inquire about her brother.

More than a week had passed and nobody had called her back from their office, which probably meant they had nothing to report. No news was always good news, but she would rather hear it from them directly than have them ignore her inquiry.

Brandon’s last call came from the phone number listed as the diner. So when she passed it on the way to the sheriff’s station, she thought a quick bathroom break wouldn’t hurt.

There was no definite schedule for her visit, so there would be no harm in interviewing the people at the restaurant if they crossed paths with Bran.

If the local police were so busy, then she would get started on the legwork.

The place didn’t look too bad. It was designed like an old saloon with seating provided on the spacious porch. Inside, tables and chairs were placed strategically around the dining area, mostly hugging the walls. A central area has been cleared for dancing and opposite the bar is the stage.

Not bad, she thought, for a small town. She was not sure what she expected, but the second she stepped inside, Bree felt her skin crawling. Being a cop, she was used to all the attention every time she entered an establishment that served alcohol.  

She was in a small town where everybody knew everybody, so it was natural for the locals to scrutinize her, but she felt like a group of people to her right were not only looking at her with anger, but they were also growling.

There had been no audible sound, at least not loud enough to alert the people nearby, but felt the vibrations in the air.

Shrugging with the feeling that something bad was about to take place, she made her way to the ladies’ room and did her business. Bree was splashing her face with cold water when a woman with a sardonic expression entered the room and caught her eye in the mirror. 

“You are not welcome here,” she said with so much hostility that Bree automatically clutched the weapon she hid under her jacket. 

“Not here to cause trouble. Just taking a break,” Bree replied curtly.

The curvy woman in tight black leather pants and layered tank tops sneered. Her blonde streaked hair looked very stylish and Bree wondered what a woman who looked like a supermodel was doing in the hole-in-the-wall place in the middle of nowhere, Washington.

The woman scrunched her face when she saw Bree’s hand under her jacket. With disgust on her face, the woman twisted her feet and walked out the door. 

Bree felt the attitude of a woman she’d never met before very odd. She hadn’t even said a word to anyone, and yet the woman hated her as if she had a grudge.

Was it because she was a visitor?

Walking out into the main saloon, she surveyed the diner to check if the woman was still around. Most of the customers had gone, and she shrugged. It was not her business to care about other people. All she needed to do was find her brother and get the hell out of there.