Chapter 22
CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO
A hand wraps around my arm, squeezing tight. “You won’t get away. God will always show us where you are.” Keeper’s cruel laugh echoes around me and I jerk awake, my heart racing.
It was only a nightmare. I’m okay. Well, as okay as you can be on the run from a cult.
I’m freezing and I can’t see anything. The car is off and the windshield is covered with snow. All the other windows are frosted over. Did I fall asleep and run out of gas?
I let out a sigh when the car starts up, showing I still have around a quarter of a tank. The relief is short lived when the engine quickly falters and dies.
No. No no.
I start it again with the same result. And again.
The snow comes down faster and the car won’t stay on long enough to use the wipers.
The engine dies again, and I slap the steering wheel, swearing aloud before trying to start it for a fourth time as if that may help the car behave.
It doesn’t. It roars to life for a brief second, sputters, and fails again.
I don’t know how long I slept but it feels like a long time.
Everything is silent except for the wind pushing against the car and the sound of my breathing.
This can’t be happening. I’ve made it so far but not nearly far enough.
What am I going to do now? I’m stranded in a snowstorm in the middle of nowhere.
A knock on my window makes me jump, and a man stares at me, the wind whipping his hair against his forehead. “Car trouble?”
A spike of irrational fear invades. Is he one of them? No, I’m being paranoid. I’ve left the state and them far behind me. He stands there, staring and waiting for my answer. “Yes, it keeps dying.”
“Pop your hood and I’ll have a look,” he offers.
I’m grateful for his help. “Thank you.” Please let it be something simple that he can fix so I can find a hotel and ride out this storm.
It’s clear I can’t keep going today like I planned.
I pull the hood release and roll down my window to wait for him.
The bitterly cold air invades, making me wrap my arms around myself.
After a moment, he calls out, “Try to start it!”
Again, the engine starts and quickly shuts off. I get out of the car to see I’m not on a road but in a driveway that leads up to a large farmhouse. No wonder he came out to help. I’m on his property.
“I’m sorry. I must’ve made a wrong turn in the storm.” He looks up at me from where he’s bent over the front of the car and I get a good look at him. He’s older, in his early forties if I had to guess. Tall, with dark hair and a short beard that’s lightly peppered with silver.
“Don’t worry about it. I think you need a new fuel pump,” he announces, standing up straight and brushing his hands together.
“I don’t suppose there’s some temporary fix possible?”
A smile softens his words. “Afraid not. You’re in luck though. I’m a mechanic. Let me call my shop and we’ll get a tow truck out here. Come inside and stay warm while you wait.”
I take a moment to look at my surroundings. There isn’t another house in sight, and the farmhouse is getting harder to see as the snow falls thicker. Following a strange man into his house doesn’t top my list of risky things to try, but there isn’t much choice. It’s too cold to stay out here.
“I appreciate that. Thanks,” I reply. “I’m Sybil.”
He nods, closes my hood and starts leading the way up to his house. “Alex Seller. Where are you headed?”
“I’m driving down to Florida to stay with a friend during my winter break from college. I should’ve checked the weather.” The story I’ve practiced falls effortlessly from my lips.
His chuckle is deep but not mocking. “Yep, we have a blizzard warning. It’s not common here but it’s supposed to be one hell of a storm.”
We continue up the long, curved driveway.
His farmhouse is gorgeous. The siding is a soft cream color, and dark green shutters frame each window, neat and symmetrical.
A wraparound porch stretches across the entire front of the house, continuing along one side.
Thick columns support the porch roof and the planks of wood under our feet are worn smooth.
A wooden swing hangs on one end suspended by heavy chains, and a glider sits near it, with a small table between them.
In warmer months, I’d live on a porch like this.
Inside, warm air fragrant with something savory greets us, along with the most adorable beagle with floppy ears. “That’s Clover. She never meets a stranger,” he says, and I bend down to pet her.
“Hi there. Oh, you’re a doll,” I gush, scratching behind her ears.
Clover stays at my heel as we walk through the large, comfortable living room.
An inviting fire burns in the fireplace.
The furniture is an eclectic mix, all of it well kept.
The brown recliner goes well with a matching green couch and love seat set.
They’re arranged facing the wooden entertainment center that holds a twenty-seven-inch TV and VCR.
“Is your wife here?” I ask as he leads me to a bright, spotless kitchen.
He picks up a cordless phone that sits on the counter and dials. “I’m not married. It’s just me.”
It’s such a big house to live in alone.
“Jerry, hey. Can you send Eric out to my place with the wrecker? There’s a young lady stuck in my driveway, and we’ll be replacing her fuel pump.” He listens for a moment. “Where’s Ben?”
While he talks, I glance around the kitchen and notice a small magnetic calendar stuck to his fridge with Seller Brothers Auto Repair stamped on it, along with an address and phone number.
Kentucky? I made it all the way to Kentucky in a blizzard.
Troy would be proud. I guess it was lucky the car chose to die at a mechanic’s house.
“All right. Tell him I’ll send him back with a six pack of beer,” Alex says before hanging up the phone.
He smiles at me and gestures to the kitchen table.
“Make yourself at home. My trucks are both busy pulling folks out of ditches but one of them is coming. Would you like some coffee or tea? Something warm?”
“Coffee would be great, thank you.” I take a seat. “Is there a hotel near your shop?”
“There’s a Days Inn right down the road from it.” He turns on the coffeemaker and pulls two mugs from a cabinet. “Ben can drop you off there if you like.”
“Perfect. Do you know about how much it’ll be to replace the fuel pump?”
“It shouldn’t be over two hundred, and cheaper if we can find you a good one in the salvage yard.”
I think about the roll of money tucked into my bag.
It’s more than enough to pay for the pump and a night or two at a hotel, but I need to keep things as cheap as possible.
I need the car for now, but I won’t be holding onto it much longer.
I can’t risk it. If they report it stolen, all it’ll take is one cop running the plate to get me locked up before I have a chance to explain.
“The cheaper the better. I just need it to make it to Florida,” I lie. I just need it to get me out of here and to a large city where I can find an FBI office. The last thing I want is to deal with another corrupt small town police department. “Then I can worry about further repairs.”
He places a dish of sugar and a container of creamer on the table then grins at me. “Are you headed for the beach?”
“That’s the plan.”
He sets a cup of coffee in front of me and leans against the counter to drink his. “I’m originally from Tampa, but I grew up in Illinois.”
I’m doing my best to talk to him like everything is fine but inside I’m panicking. I have to get somewhere safe. I have to save Troy. “That explains why you don’t have a southern accent,” I remark, and he smiles.
“No, I’ve lived in Kentucky for years though, so some of it seeps in.” He studies me for a moment. “Are you midwestern?”
My accent is clearly obvious. “Nailed it. I moved from Indianapolis to Wisconsin as a kid.” I add a little sugar and cream to my coffee.
“You’re no stranger to snow then.”
I gaze out the kitchen window at the thick curtain of white obscuring everything. “No, but I don’t know if I’ve ever seen it come down like this.”
“Neither have I. We get more ice storms than snowstorms down here. They’ve been predicting this blizzard for a week, so hopefully everyone’s well prepared.”
We spend the next forty minutes or so passing the time with small talk as we drink our coffee. I’m surprised to find how easy it is to talk to him. I’m used to most men barking orders at me or lecturing, not engaging in an actual conversation, except for Troy. It’s nice.
I excuse myself to use the bathroom and he directs me to one in the hallway.
Clover follows me, her nails tapping the wooden floor, and she plops down near the bathroom window.
The bathroom is minimally decorated but clean, so much better than what I’m used to.
The only strange thing is there’s no mirror above the sink, only two shelves holding extra hand soap and towels.
The phone rings as I’m washing my hands, and Alex is talking when I return to the kitchen.
“I get it, yeah,” he sighs, running a hand over his jaw.
“You already reported it to the police? Good. Then get your ass home and tell Ben to do the same before he’s stuck too. Give the plows some time to work.”
My throat tightens and a cold drip trickles down my spine. Police? Did they figure out the car is stolen? The memory of Nolan gurgling blood flashes before me. I’ll be arrested for murder. Or worse, delivered back to Hearth and Vine.
Alex turns to me as he hangs up. “Are you okay? You look pale.”
I have to get it together. “I’m fine.”
He nods and presses his lips together, making it clear he doesn’t have good news. “I’m sorry. We can’t get a tow truck out here. Or anyone right now. An ice jam in the creek took out the bridge, the small one you crossed on your way here.”
I don’t remember the bridge, but I probably wouldn’t have noticed it. Driving in a snowstorm is surprisingly disorienting and I was exhausted. “Took it out?” I mumble.
“Washed it away. We had a ton of rain last week and then a hard freeze followed by the snow. Ice backed up until it tore the bridge loose. Ben saw it happen. He was lucky he wasn’t driving across it.”
“Isn’t there…another street or detour?” What the hell am I going to do now?
“I’m afraid not. This is a dead end road. The bridge is the only way out.”
My mind races. Maybe I can walk it if there’s another way to cross the creek. He opens his mouth to speak again but my quick questions cut him off. “Is there a footbridge? How far from the hotel are we?” I’m not sure how long I was on that road before I pulled over. I should’ve kept going.
“Let’s see, it’s three miles down to the bridge, then three more to the county road that takes you into town. The hotel is right on the edge of town, about seven and a half miles down the county road. But there’s no footbridge or anything to cross the creek.”
Nearly fourteen miles. Not a distance I’m going to try to hike in a blizzard even if I could find a way across the icy water.
The panic must show on my face because his voice becomes soft and reassuring.
“I’m afraid you’re stuck, but you don’t have to worry.
You can stay in the guest room. I’m well prepared for the storm with more than enough supplies.
It’ll be okay. My guys already let the cops know about the bridge, and they said they’ll contact the Department of Transportation too.
They’ll get someone out here when they can. ”
My tongue slips out to brush over my chapped lips. “After the storm, you think?” A bridge isn’t going to be repaired quickly, but there must be ways through the woods once the weather resolves.
Troy swore he’d be okay, but I don’t trust that they won’t hurt or kill him for my crime. Part of me wants to spill it all now, call the police and tell them he’s being held hostage and that they killed Georgia, even though they’d surely arrest me too. But I can’t.
Troy made me promise to wait until I was somewhere safe. I don’t know this guy. I don’t know if these small town cops are just as corrupt. If I make the wrong decision, I’m risking both our lives. No, Troy was right when he made me promise to get somewhere safe first.
“I imagine it’ll be a few days at least. Our county isn’t well equipped to deal with a blizzard. A normal snowstorm can bring things to a standstill.” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t think you’re going to make it to your beach vacation anytime soon.”