They took Thad’s car and he drove north over the bridge across the Centennial River and up the valley. About seven miles from town, he turned left on a paved road and drove another two miles. They entered a county park with a scatter of eucalyptus trees and ramadas. Thad drove up a small hill at the far end of the park. After he parked, they walked fifty yards to a ramada that overlooked the river two hundred feet below.
Thad pulled a can from the six pack, popped the top, and handed it to January after she seated herself on the concrete table, her feet on the bench. She sniffed the air, catching a faint whiff of stale beer, river moisture, and desert, feeling Thad’s gaze on her.
“This place is a zoo Friday and Saturday nights,” he explained. “Favorite hang-out for kids and couples that
