Chapter 21
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
The second key on the ring opens the outer door. I force myself not to look back down the hall where the love of my life will continue to suffer. If I do, I won’t be able to go. Bitterly cold air slaps me in the face when I step outside for the first time in more than two years.
Only faint flickers are visible in the direction of the homes and governors’ house. It’s late and only a few lights remain on, almost obscured by the falling snow. There’s no way they can see me up here in the dark.
I’m trying hard not to panic but adrenaline has my heart slamming in my chest. One step at a time. Get to the old fencepost and find the hidden money. Even covered with a few inches of snow, I know the woods well.
For a second, I wonder if I’m dreaming. Am I really running through the frozen forest, on a desperate mission to save us both?
Or am I tossing and turning on my sleeping mat, dreaming of snow because I’m cold?
I’m not sure which scenario I wish for. All I’ve wanted since I was twelve was to be free again, but there’s no freedom without Troy.
The fencepost is easy to locate. The top is stuck pretty tight but I manage to pull the chunk of wood off. “Yes,” I sob at the sight of the tightly wrapped plastic bag still stuffed inside. No one found it.
I’m shocked at how large the roll of money is as I shove it into my pocket. I put the car keys in my other pocket, then pull the last item from the bag.
Tears spill over again at the sight of the opal heart necklace.
Almost two and a half years ago, I hid under a bed to steal it for Troy.
It feels like a lifetime. The first thing I’ll do when he’s free is put it into his hand.
I keep it closed in my palm as I head for the lot on the far side of the property, where they store the new members’ cars.
At least I hope that’s still true. They aren’t exactly new members anymore.
The cars are still there, and the wind has kept the snow from covering them too deeply. I’m relieved to see there aren’t any footsteps or marks in the snow on the ground. No one lives out here and there’s no reason anyone would show up, least of all in a snowstorm.
I don’t know which car the hidden keys might start. Instead of trying to figure it out, I do as Troy said and check under a visor of the first car. If any are being driven regularly, it would be one of these near the exit to the road.
The dome light comes on when I open the door, and I hope that’s a sign the battery is good. Sure enough, a plastic keychain is tucked above the driver’s side. I slip in and shut the door quickly so the light will go out. Closing my eyes, I slide the key in.
Please, please. Just start. I’m not sure who my pleas are aimed at. The universe, I guess. Or whatever force in the world might give me the smallest bit of luck tonight. The engine rumbles to life with no problem and I slap the steering wheel. “Yes, yes, thank you!”
The gauge shows just under half a tank of gas. It’s not a lot but it should get me out of town at least. Then I’ll find a gas station off the highway. The wipers clear the thin layer of snow from the windshield, and I turn the defrosters on full blast.
It’s time to go.
I’m not an experienced driver. Those lessons were years ago, and I’ve never driven in snow, but I’ve seen Troy do it enough.
Going slow won’t make me stand out or get me pulled over.
The local cops won’t think anything about this car since there’s no logo for Hearth and Vine Farm.
As nerve wracking as driving in snow is, it may also keep me from being stopped.
I doubt the police will want to bother with a random car in the middle of this storm.
I don’t dare turn on the headlights or running lights yet.
I steer the car out onto the road and crawl past the entrance that my mother drove me through more than eleven years ago.
The sign disappears in the snow behind me, and I take a deep breath, then turn the headlights on.
I know how to get through town and to the highway exit, but after that, I have no idea where to go.
When I stop for gas, I’ll have to get a map. Right now, all that matters is not sliding off the road and making it outside of this horrible town. Every muscle in my body stays clenched as I hunch over the wheel and make my way down the country road.
Things don’t look as familiar in the snow. Still, I pass places that I recognize. Spots that Troy and I parked to listen to music and talk, dreaming about this day. I wasn’t supposed to be alone, but I won’t be for long.
I’m not doing anything anonymously either. Sending something to the press is a good idea but I’m not going to mail a letter then sit around and hope. If I get locked up for killing a man who held me prisoner and tried to rape me, there’s no hope for a life in this world anyway.
As soon as I’m somewhere safe, I’ll find a journalist first, so someone knows what’s happening, then go to the police.
The town is nearly deserted. I see two officers sitting in the yellow glow of the all-night donut shop. Their backs are to the road as I pass. I’m doing my best not to cry while driving by places where Troy and I spent time. As much as I hate this town, the memory of us is stamped all over it.
At such a slow speed, it takes me nearly half an hour to exit the city limits, and another twenty minutes to cross the county line.
My chest aches and I realize I’m holding my breath again when the highway exit comes into sight.
I’m not safe yet, but safer with that town and county behind me.
I’m not sure how far away is far enough, but I promised to at least leave the state.
I’ll head south where the storm may not be so bad.
The highway is nearly empty too. I stay in the slow lane, creeping along as the snow keeps falling.
An occasional semi truck passes me and more than one plow.
An hour sneaks by, then another. I reach to turn the radio on for a distraction and realize there isn't one.
It’s after three in the morning when I exit the highway to a gas station. My nerves are on edge as I park at the pump and go inside. An older lady looks up from the television behind the counter. My mouth is dry and I have to force myself to speak up. “I need to fill up, please.”
She glances around me to see which pump my car is parked at. “Go on ahead.”
Troy usually paid first but maybe it’s different at other stations. We always went to the same one. “Thank you.”
I pump the gas until it shuts itself off, letting me know the tank is full. Seventeen dollars and some change. I peel a twenty and a five off the roll of money and take it back inside. There’s a cooler of drinks right inside the door where I pick up a bottle of water and a Coke.
“Find everything you need, hon?” the lady asks.
“Do you have an atlas? Or map of Illinois?”
“On the rack against the back wall.”
I locate an atlas and add it to my items at the counter. If she finds anything suspicious about them, she doesn’t show it. After she hands me my change, she says, “Be safe. It’s not a good night for traveling. They’re talking about shutting down the highway soon.”
“I’m almost home,” I lie. “Thank you.”
She goes back to her show as I leave, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
She was perfectly nice, but I feel like the last few hours are written on my face.
As if someone could look at me and know I killed a man.
Like they might see my expression and demand, “Who are you and why are you not where you’re supposed to be? ”
I get back on the highway, heading south. The miles roll past but I’m not sure how far I’ve gone. Am I in Illinois yet? It feels like I should be. Hell, it feels like I should be in the middle of it, at least, but I didn’t see a sign or anything.
The snow has grown thick, reducing the visibility even more. My back tires keep slipping around and I barely manage to keep myself out of a ditch. There’s no way to know the time, but I don’t think dawn is too far off. It’s time for a break before I end up crashing into something.
I take the first exit, and it empties onto a country road.
It’s hard to see where the twists and turns are.
I just want to find a safe place to pull over and park until the sun comes up.
Finally, I find a side road that hasn’t been touched by a plow.
There doesn’t appear to be anyone around, no lights that I can see.
I pull the car over and let it idle, so I won’t lose the heat. I open the atlas and study it, but I honestly have no idea how far I’ve gone. I’ll have to wait until it gets light then return to the highway to find a sign.
I wish I could tell Troy that I made it, that I’m out of town, out of the state. What’s he doing right now? I know he won’t sleep tonight. Is he listening to the radio? Is he listening to our song?
I remember laughing with Troy about having a caffeine crash when my coffee would wear off, but it’s nothing compared to an adrenaline crash.
My body feels wrung out and weak. I fumble at the edge of my seat and find the handle to recline it.
Not all the way back. I can’t afford to get into a deep sleep.
I just need to rest a little until dawn. Then I’ll get back on the road. Please hang on, Troy. Help is coming.
It’s the only thing I know for sure. Part of me is afraid that no one will listen or help me, but if that’s the case, I’ll go back in the middle of the night and burn the governors’ house to the ground with them inside.
I’ll never stop trying to rescue him.