1.8

By the time the sun is going down outside the motel room’s window, Austin is starting to get tired of staring outside. Tired of everything, really. He’s already talked to so many people today, and been to so many places, and if he has to talk to anyone else, he might drop dead of exhaustion. All he wants to do is hop on his motorcycle and go up to the diner to get a burger, but he knows that if he does that, he might miss his only opportunity to see or talk to the mystery man in Room 106. He’s already squandered one chance - by the time he and Mac had dragged the dead buck out of the woods to shove it in the backseat of her car, there was another car in the motel parking lot, a loud, orange convertible that hadn’t been there before. A quick check with Nate in the lobby had confirmed it belonged to the man in 106, and Austin had just missed him walking into his room.

Still. Austin is hungry, and he knows there are vending machines right around the corner, and what are the chances that he’s going to miss the man in 106 walking in or out of his room in the five minutes it takes him to buy a three-course vending machine meal? Slim to none, really. Shrugging his jacket on, and shoving his hands in his pockets to make sure he has his wallet, Austin slips out the door.

Startlingly, there’s another man just around the corner, his silhouette illuminated by the gleaming light of the Coke machine. He’s almost as tall as the vending machine is, and Austin isn’t entirely sure the man is real until the man punches a couple of numbers on the keypad and the machine beeps in response. If he is real, this must be the man from Room 106 - but how did he get out of his room without Austin seeing him? He’d have to cross in front of 105’s window to get here, unless he walked all the way around the other side of the building. And there’s no reason he would do that, unless he knew which room Austin was in, and didn’t want to be seen for some reason.

“Hey,” Austin says, stepping up to the vending machines, pretending to decide what he wants but really scanning the other man’s reflection in the glass of the snack machine. Shaggy brown hair, unshaven face, glasses. Nothing out of the ordinary outside of his gargantuan height - and the green, hooded jacket the man is wearing, which tugs at Austin’s memory suddenly. The person he saw watching him in the woods earlier, when he was talking to Myra and Jeffrey, was wearing a green jacket like that. Austin’s sure of it. Then again, it’s a fairly generic jacket. Lots of people in town could have one just like it.

“Did you hear the cops were here earlier?” Austin asks, figuring it’s a relatively safe question. He doesn’t mention that he was with the cop who was here earlier, because he’s not sure if the man knows, and doesn’t want to give himself away so soon.

The man leans up against the Coke machine, uncapping his soda. “About the chick who got bitten up?”

“Yeah.”

“What, they didn’t have anything better to investigate?” The man’s mouth twitches into a sardonic little smirk. It’s an expression that grates on Austin’s nerves, makes him think the man knows more than he’s saying. “Couldn’t get Animal Control on the job?”

“Apparently not.” Austin says, still watching the man’s reflection in the glass front of the vending machine as he puts in his money. He’s well aware that his back is to the man, and he’d have the disadvantage if the man tried to attack him, but at least he would see it coming. “I heard they think it was a wild dog or something.”

The man takes a swig of his soda. “Shit. I’ve never been to a town with a wild dog problem before. Guess there’s a first time for everything.”

“Me neither. I’ve never been out to the southwest before, actually.” Austin says, and bends to get his food out of the compartment at the bottom of the vending machine, watching the man’s reaction in the corner of his eye. “Maybe it’s normal here.”

The man arches his eyebrows. “Where are you from?”

“Pennsylvania,” Austin says. He doesn’t see a reason to lie, but he doesn’t see a reason to get too specific about it, either.

“Hey, me too,” the man says. “That’s crazy.”

His tone doesn’t modulate at all, almost like he already knew what Austin’s answer was going to be. The coincidence of meeting someone from the same state halfway across the country, in a tiny nowhere town, is strange, but Austin can’t shake the thought that something else about all of this is strange.  

“So what are you doing out here?” Austin asks, carefully. He can’t put his finger on exactly what’s unsettling him about this whole conversation, other than the general tone of weirdness, and the idea that this man might have been watching him in the woods earlier. Skulking around near the crime scene, even. The hair on the back of his neck is still prickling like it was earlier, but it’s hard to tell if it’s because of this man, or because of Austin’s proximity to the woods around the motel.

The man shrugs. “I got a job offer in Nevada a few weeks ago, but it didn’t really work out. Since then I’ve just been driving around and seeing the sights before I end up going back to the East Coast. Figured I might as well.”

Austin hums noncommittally in reply, opening a candy bar with one hand and his teeth. It takes a lot of restraint on his part to not shove the entire bar in his mouth at once, like he would if he were alone, or around Otter. Instead, he breaks off a fourth of it and pops it in his mouth, talking around it.

“I’m kind of doing the same.” Austin finishes chewing, and swallows, caramel sticking in his teeth. “Riding around the States on my motorcycle. It’s been about a year now, actually.”

“Jesus, a year?” The man asks, his tone still more flat than surprised. “By yourself? Don’t you ever go home for a while?”

“Nah,” Austin says, shrugging and pushing another bite of candy into his mouth. It’s not like he doesn’t ever think about going home, and he definitely bickers about it with Richard, but he always comes to the conclusion that it’s not worth the trip. There’s nothing back there for him except a job he doesn’t want, expectations he doesn’t need foisted upon him, and a disappointed older brother.

“Well, more power to you,” the man says dismissively, apparently not willing to get into a conversation about Austin’s home situation. He sticks out a hand, the one not holding his soda bottle. “I’m Walker.”

Austin puts the rest of the candy bar in his mouth to free up one of his hands to shake - though it does mean he has to speak through a mouthful of chocolate. “Austin.”

“Nice to meet you, Austin,” Walker says. He grins, but it looks a little forced, like there’s something he’s keeping clenched tightly behind his teeth. An almost predatory expression, all things considered. “You might be the only interesting person I’ve met here.”

What a weird thing to say. Austin frowns, choking down the rest of his candy bar before he can manage an answer.

“Maybe you just haven’t met the right people yet,” he says, finally.

“Maybe,” Walker agrees, his voice still entirely flat.

“You should stick around for a while,” Austin suggests, trying to take on a tone that doesn’t scream “I’m investigating a murderer, and I think you’re a suspect”. It would be bad if one of the most suspicious people he’s met in Antlers up and left town in the middle of the investigation. Especially if it meant - and it might - that other people in neighboring towns would be in danger next.

“Maybe,” Walker says again. He looks at Austin over the frames of his glasses. “I could buy you a drink sometime, if you want.”

Austin grins in spite of his better instincts. “Are you hitting on me?”

“I might be,” Walker says, taking another sip of his soda. He doesn’t look particularly embarrassed at the accusation, whether or not Austin was right. “If that’s what you wanted it to be.”

“It’s fine. However you meant it. As long as you’re buying.” Austin wishes he could shove his hands in his pockets, but he’s holding a bag of chips and a package of Pop Tarts. At least Walker’s just provided him with a perfect way to convince him to stay in town. “I’m taking care of some stuff in town right now, but maybe in a few days? If you’ll still be here?”

Walker gives him that funny grin again, a bared-teeth smile that’s too tight for his face. “Oh, I’ll still be here. I’m thinking I’ll stick around until all this wild dog stuff is taken care of. I want to see how it plays out.”

What a completely normal thing to say about people getting attacked by wild animals, Austin thinks, but doesn’t dare say out loud. Instead, he nods, and shifts his vending machine haul in his arms, stepping around Walker and beginning to make his way back to his room. He’s well aware that he’s presented his back to Walker again, this time without a reflection to warn him of the other man making any sudden moves, but the attack that he’s almost expecting never comes.