The Crash

Chapter 12

12

I’ve got to get away from this man.

My life and the life of my unborn child depend on it. But since I’m in his truck, in the middle of a blizzard, while my ankle is possibly broken… Well, I am completely at his mercy. The only thing I can do is try to appeal to him.

“Please take me to the hospital.” My voice is edging on hysterical as tears well in my eyes. “I…I have money I can give you…”

I don’t have money. Well, I have a few dollars but not enough to tempt him. But I’m desperate.

“Try to stay calm.” Hank’s eyes are pinned on the road, his expression unreadable under that huge beard. “We’ll be there soon.”

“Please!” Tears jump into my eyes as I clutch my belly. “Anything you want. I swear. I need to go to the hospital…” I glance back at my purse in the back seat. I’ve got my bottle of pepper spray in there, but it doesn’t do me any good up in the front seat. I bet he knew it when he threw it back there. “Please. Please don’t hurt me.”

He doesn’t answer me. He keeps on driving, his expression eerily blank.

I shift in the seat, which sets off another wave of pain in my ankle, and I have to breathe through it. I stare at Hank’s profile, wondering if I have any chance of defending myself against him. If there were ever a time to do it, it would be now, while he’s distracted by the road. But if I attack him now, we’ll crash again, and then I’ll be just as bad off as I was before he pulled me from my car.

No, it’s hopeless. I clutch my belly, my breaths coming faster and faster. This man is going to hurt me, which is bad enough, but what about my baby? She’s counting on me to protect her, and I have screwed up royally.

I don’t even realize I’m hyperventilating until my fingertips start to tingle. Oh God, what am I going to do to get away from this man? I’ve listened to enough true crime podcasts to know where this is going. Soon we’ll be in his dungeon, and then it will truly be hopeless.

The truck skids to a halt in the slippery snow, although I don’t see anything resembling shelter. Why did we stop? Where is this secret den that will serve as my torture chamber? Wherever it is, it’s clearly very well hidden from view. Nobody will ever find me there.

Oh God. Oh God oh God oh God oh God…

Hank throws the truck into park. Slowly, he swivels his head to look at me. In the shadows of the vehicle, with half the beard obscuring his face, he is nothing short of terrifying. He could strangle me right now, dump my body in the snow, and nobody would know.

“Tegan,” he says in an even voice, “the nearest hospital is ten miles away. If I try to drive you there, my truck is going to get stuck, and then both of us are going to be in big trouble.”

I stare at him.

“I’m going to take you to my house,” he continues, “and we’ll see if we can call for an ambulance from my landline.” He levels his eyes at me. “I won’t hurt you.”

I don’t know if he means it or if he’s just saying it to lull me into a sense of false comfort. It’s not like I can trust the word of this giant man I met in the woods. But I have to go along with this—I don’t have a choice. “Okay.”

“Now can you let me focus on driving safely?”

“Yes.”

Without further discussion, Hank puts the car back in drive. He does have a point that the road is completely covered in snow, and even his big pickup truck is struggling. We really need a snowplow. Hopefully, they can send one with the ambulance.

A few minutes later, a house comes into view. I had expected a tiny one-story shack that was barely a single room, but this is a real house, with two stories and a chimney blowing smoke into the snow-streaked sky. It’s definitely not some cave where he’ll violate me and leave me to die. That said, it’s not a nice house. It looks old, and the wood on the outside is splintered, and it could use a good coat or two of paint. This cabin looks like it’s seen better days, although it’s hard to tell what kind of shape it is in, given the amount of snow caking nearly every inch of it.

Hank pulls his truck up right in front of the door and kills the engine. “I don’t know if the power is still on, but my wife is keeping the fire going, so it’ll be warm.”

I feel a sudden rush of relief. “You have a wife ?”

For the first time since I met him, a smile twitches at the corners of Hank’s lips. “I sure do. And Polly used to be a nurse, so she’ll make you feel comfortable until the ambulance gets here. Now just wait here a minute, and I’ll tell her what’s going on.”

Hank climbs out of the car and goes up the five steps to the porch and fits his key into the front door. I wait in the truck as he disappears inside the house. I wonder what he’s telling his wife. I wonder what sort of woman is married to a man like that and what she’ll think of him bringing home a pregnant stranger with a possibly broken ankle.

A minute later, Hank comes back out of the house but this time with a woman at his side. His wife— Polly . She’s wearing a pea-green woolen coat paired with a white beanie with a puff ball at the top. She steps into the snow in her knee-high boots, and when she gets close to the window of the truck, I can make out the braid swinging behind her back, her green eyes, and the freckles sprinkled across the bridge of her nose. Her face is very pale, which I assume must be from the cold.

Maybe this will be fine. After all, I won’t be here long.