Page 34 - GRANADA
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32and rereading it so many times I missed when the light turned green. The man behind me laid on his horn and jolted me to attention. I floored the gas and took off from a screeching halt.
By the next light, I’d turned my blinker on, ready to pull into my apartment complex at the next right. Closer and closer I got to my turn, until I passed it altogether. I shook my head and mumbled a string of profanities under my breath. I was going to do it. I was going to find the Snowbird.
I had twenty long minutes in between my split-second decision and my arrival at the park. I second guessed myself half a dozen times just between stop lights, but my morbid curiosity kept me going, cramming the self-doubt into a locker like some dweeb in between classes. Sure, that may have been an odd metaphor to use, given my age, but I often found myself regressing back to a high school mindset when stressed out.
When I arrived at the Saguaro National Park, it was nearing sunset and the emergency services were packing up and heading out. The girl had been rushed to the emergency room with serious, but not life-threatening, injuries. Now, there were only three cars in the parking
lot:
