I'll Never Stop

by Jessica Lynch

  In the middle of rummaging through her living room, searching for where she had left her laptop charger, she heard a knock at her door. She immediately froze, going as still as a statue.

  Barely an hour and a half had passed since she made the rash decision to go. No one knew except for Tessa and Lucas. She hadn’t even called her landlord yet.

  What if—

  It couldn’t be—

  She gulped.

  Could it?

  “It’s just me, Grace.”

  Tessa.

  At the same time, Grace saw the tail of her charger poking out behind the futon. Pausing only to unplug it and wind it up before tossing it on top of the cushion, she jogged over to her door. Just in case, she peeked through the peephole.

  It was Tessa, and she was alone.

  Grace opened the door, gesturing for the other woman to step inside.

  “Thanks,” murmured Tessa. Her golden eyes widened when she saw the pile growing on the futon. The second, smaller suitcase was lying open on the floor next to the table.

  The flowers were tucked in her spare room. Out of sight, out of mind. They could stay there for all she cared.

  “You’re really going to go? Already? That seems so crazy to me.”

  Grace shrugged, trying to downplay the magnitude of picking up and leaving everything she worked for behind again. “I’ve got it down to a science now. I’ll be heading out in a couple of hours.”

  Tessa lifted up her hand, waving a folded piece of paper. “I probably should have mentioned before, but you can’t find Hamlet on any map. GPS is useless. Either you stumble on it or a local invites you in. This is your invitation. My husband wrote detailed instructions on how to find Hamlet. You won’t be able to miss it.”

  Because Grace could sense Tessa had more to say, she didn’t reach for the instructions. Not yet.

  She was right. With barely a breath between, Tessa continued.

  “So, um, Lucas also made me promise to tell you that, if Maria asks, he’s your neighbor and he says you’re a perfect fit for Ophelia. That’s the name of the B&B she runs in town. Luc is very particular about who stays there so if he says you’re good, Maria won’t question it.

  “But she might have a couple of questions about him. I think he’s being ridiculous, but he’d rather it not get out where he is and what we’re doing. It’s not for any bad reasons,” Tessa hurriedly added. Probably because the look on Grace’s face had to reveal her sudden worry that Lucas and Tessa were hiding from something, too. “Hamlet is a small town and the locals love to gossip. It’s why we decided to live in the city. It used to drive Lucas nuts.”

  Grace reached out, taking the paper from Tessa. “My lips are sealed.”

  If that’s all he asked of her after being such a help, Grace would keep his secrets gladly.

  Impulsively, Tessa threw her arms around Grace. “We’ll meet again. I know we will. If I have to drag Lucas home to check in on his sister again like I did last Christmas, I know I’ll see you soon. And don’t worry. If that guy you’re running from shows up here, Lucas will take care of it. He definitely won’t hear from us where you’ve gone. And once you’ve made it to Hamlet, you’re home free.”

  Grace returned the squeeze. “Thank you, Tessa.”

  There was a glossy sheen to Tessa’s golden eyes as she pulled back and, with a wave, left Grace to finish her packing. Sadness settled heavy on her back. In the two months she lived in Strawberry Village, she only thought of Tessa De Angelis as a neighbor.

  Turned out she was a pretty good friend, too, and just one more thing Tommy wouldn't let her have.

  She only veered away from Lucas’s directions once. About two hours into the drive, Grace dared to turn her phone on long enough to find the address of three local pawn shops. Jotting them down on the back of a receipt, she turned her phone off again and got verbal directions from the first gas station attendant she found.

  He recommended the second shop over the others and Grace was grateful for the tip. When she pawned the tennis bracelet, even though she only got a fraction of its worth, she pocketed enough cash that she would be set for a good while without having to worry about it.

  She already had more than enough to worry about.

  The rest of the drive was easy. Since Lucas was an ER doctor, she expected his handwriting to be chicken scratch. She was surprised to discover that, like everything else about the man, his penmanship was neat and orderly, with a hint of purposefulness illustrated by the bold strokes and heavy hand.

  She started to get hungry around hour four, remembering that she never had her oatmeal. The box of instant was buried with the toilet paper and tampons under the two suitcases and her favorite quilt. Everything else was left behind in Strawberry Village, including a bowl to eat it out of and a spoon to eat it with.

  Her stomach growled. Ignoring it, Grace drove on.

  When she reached the highway, she knew she was getting close. The next step on Lucas’s list was the big one. All she had to do was go another seventy miles down the endless stretch of road, hope there wasn’t any traffic, and pray she didn’t have to pee.

  It was Sunday, early afternoon, and it wasn’t as congested as it could be. Grace’s resolve broke down about twenty miles in because it was a battle between her bladder and her belly, with her ending up the loser either way.

  She pulled into the first rest stop she saw, squatted over a pretty iffy toilet, filled up on two protein bars, and made sure her car had a full tank. She found it hard to believe that Hamlet was as small as Lucas and Tessa made it sound, but she got the idea gas was a luxury there. Once she found the town, she didn’t plan on leaving until she was sure Tommy hadn’t figured out where she had gone to hide.

  Caffeine was the only drug she put in her body. Feeling both exhausted and emotionally drained, Grace bought two rest stop cups of coffee. The coffee was burnt, the milk not as fresh as she would’ve liked, but the buzz it gave her was enough to get her through the rest of the drive.

  She needed it.

  The exit was coned off.

  At least, Grace assumed this had to be the exit. She made sure to follow Lucas’s instructions exactly. The narrow dip veering off of the highway was nearly invisible, a stretch of dirt that switched to gravel further down the path. If she hadn’t been leaning forward in her seat, specifically searching for it, she never would have seen it.

  Three sturdy, orange traffic cones blocked the entrance to the path. She flicked on her hazard lights, pulling onto what could only generously be referred to as a shoulder. If her tiny car was any wider, she’d be in trouble.

  Lucas warned her that his hometown was leery of outsiders. She was beginning to see that.

  But Grace was determined to get to Hamlet. After driving for five hours with the promise of hiding out in the small town, she wasn’t going to let any amount of traffic cones stop her.

  Climbing over her passenger seat, she popped out on the side away from the flow of traffic. At least two cars stopped to see if she needed any help. She waved them off with a small smile, her heart pounding wildly every time a car slowed in case it was the Jaguar.

  Why did so many cars have to be black?

  She knew he would come after her, and sooner before later. He would find her, too. He always did. Tommy didn’t know the meaning of give up.

  She had to get to Hamlet first.

  The cones were heavy. After years of training, Grace was no weakling, but she’d be the first to admit that all of her strength was in her legs. She was too small to wrap her arms around the oversized cones and lift.

  She finally discovered a way to make it work by hooking her fingers in the open top of each cone. With a grunt, she dragged each one until she’d left a path wide enough to slip her car through.

  She wiped her hands together, dusting them off as she hurried back to her car. The passenger door was closed; she’d shoved it shut behind her when she was facing off against the cones. The cars were whizzi
ng by behind her. She’d have to climb over her console again to get back to her driver’s seat.

  Grace grabbed the handle to the passenger’s door and immediately sensed that something wasn’t right. Her entire body froze, except for her fingers. She curled them in, tapping the smooth inner side of the handle.

  There.

  Though she hadn’t had the car that long, she didn’t consider it new. She knew every dent, every nick, every scratch—on the driver’s side. She’d never had a reason to use the passenger’s side before. But the strange bump she felt when she grabbed that handle? There wasn’t one on the other side. With a sinking suspicion, she was willing to bet there wasn’t supposed to be one on this side, either.

  She dropped easily to one knee, then the next, angling her head so that she could get a better look on the underside.

  Even though it was still light out, the shadow under the dark grey handle made it impossible to see what was there. Was there something there? She hoped not, but the last year had taught her to trust her gut. And that’s what she was going to do.

  Staying on her knees, Grace pulled the door open, leaning in and grabbing the tote bag she had stowed on the floor of the car. Ever since she turned it off after searching for the pawn shops, her phone had been tucked inside. She held it in her hand, debating whether or not it was worth the risk to turn it back on for the few seconds it would take to activate the flashlight app.

  She used to keep a flashlight in her last car. Unfortunately, she forgot to take it out of the glove compartment when she had the wreck towed away. Her phone was all she had.

  It took a minute to boot up. She quickly put it on airplane mode, swiping away the notifications she refused to look at. A couple of clicks and the bright light erupted from the back. Shoving her long hair out of her face, Grace tilted her head back while lifting the flashlight up.

  And she saw it. A flat piece of shiny metal that didn’t belong. About the size of a dime, with the same thickness, it was positioned in the center of the handle.

  It wasn’t supposed to be there. She knew instinctively who put it on her car, and she was almost certain she knew why. Grace always wondered how he was able to find her so easily, given how careful she was and how rarely she used her cell.

  It was a bug. Or… or a tracker. Something like that.

  Don’t freak, she told herself. Don’t panic.

  Just get rid of it.

  However Tommy had gotten the damn thing attached to her car, it was stuck and stuck tight. Grace tore two fingernails before she got half of it off. Another one was lost to the cause before she had the slim piece of metal grasped loosely between her forefinger and her thumb. She held it away from her as if afraid it might fly out of her grip and stick to her.

  Once it was off, she stared at it.

  She couldn’t just drop it. If this really was the tracker she expected it to be, leaving it in front of the cones was the same as hanging a honking neon sign in front of the exit, pointing out the way she had gone. Why not send Lucas’s directions straight to Tommy if she wanted to make it so easy for him to chase right after her?

  No. She’d come this far already. No stopping her now.

  Going out of her way to discard the device might cost her time she wasn’t so sure she had. But that was another risk that seemed worth taking.

  An hour later, Grace was finally driving her car through the gap she left in the cones.

  She stopped once she had taken the exit, cursing under her breath as she dragged the three cones back to where she found them. It wasn’t exact, though it was close enough, and she felt a weight slip off her shoulders as she started down the narrow road.

  The further she went, the tighter the road became. It was rocky, too, her tires bouncing as they rolled over and into dips that seemed to be everywhere. Was she driving on cobblestones or something similar? It certainly felt like it.

  She remembered Tessa’s warning about the gulch, whatever that was. Lucas was a little more clear with his instructions. On the bottom of the sheet, he drew what she figured was supposed to be a map. One short road split off into two, creating a wide Y on the page. Inside the mouth of the Y, Lucas colored it in with his black pen before adding on to it until it seemed like he was trying to draw a massive black lake.

  He wrote the word GULLEY in big block letters and then, underneath, added be careful in his precise scrawl. Okay, thought Grace. Whatever the hell a gulley was.

  Turned out the pitch black gulley—at the end of a sharp fork in the road—was a very big, very wide hole in the ground. A valley maybe, or a crazy big ditch. It was super dangerous and if Grace wasn’t going ten miles per hour, looking out for it, she might’ve ended up nose-first in it.

  Even though she stayed on the road and didn’t even come within twenty feet of the edge, Grace’s heart rate picked up as she eased her car to the right. That’s what Lucas said to do when she reached the gulley. Go right. So she did, and she was glad to put the big hole behind her.

  The road widened some as the cobblestones gave way to blacktop gravel. Though Lucas didn’t offer any other warnings, she drove carefully, just in case. The trees that bordered both sides of the road grew tall, blocking out the last of the day’s sun. There were barely any street lights tucked in the trees, and the thick fall foliage made the approaching dusk seem even darker.

  With the inky rich blackness of the gulley fresh in her mind, Grace turned on her high beams. She was the only car in sight so she didn’t worry about pissing off any other drivers.

  As soon as her lights went from bright to full blast, she caught a reflective flash on her right side. She headed toward it, idling her vehicle when she saw the sign standing proudly beneath a tall oak with a cap of orange and red leaves.

  It was a wooden sign, staked into the dirt, a bed of freshly fallen leaves at its base. The reflection came from the white paint on a dark background. In a deliberate, decorative hand, the sign said:

  Welcome to Hamlet

  est. 1941

  Population: 190

  Whoever made it must have taken inspiration from the setting because, painted in a variety of shades eerily close to the oranges and reds and yellows in the tree, a fourth line read in the same elaborate script:

  ~ Hamlet Helps ~

  Hamlet helps? God, she hoped so.

  5

  Ten minutes after she saw the handmade sign, Grace was white-knuckling the steering wheel while thinking of better mottos.

  Hamlet Hobbles Tires.

  Hamlet Has No Damn Street Signs.

  Where the Heck Am I in Hamlet?

  She took her right hand off the wheel, rubbing at her eyes. How long had she been on the road? She lost count of the hours. Dealing with Tommy’s tracker had pumped her full of adrenaline that had long since faded. Grace was drained. All she wanted to do was pull up in front of this Ophelia and beg for a room.

  Yeah… except she had a pretty big problem when it came to that.

  Lucas gave her specific instructions on how to find Hamlet. At the bottom of the paper, he jotted down the address for his sister’s bed and breakfast. Grace thought that the name and address would be all she needed.

  Until she started driving around Hamlet and discovered there were no damn street signs!

  She saw a handful of houses, more peppering the main road she was on as she continued to drive around aimlessly. Each one looked like it was a residence and, as tired and as cranky as she was, Grace didn’t think it was a good idea to knock on a stranger’s door and hope they knew where this Ophelia place was.

  Lucas wasn’t kidding when he said Hamlet was small. Apart from the houses and a sign she passed for the Hamlet Inn—which sounded heavenly, but wasn’t the cozy bed and breakfast she was looking for—she didn’t find anything else. No sign of a McDonald’s or a Starbucks or even some kind of knock-off Quick Mart.

  So many hours and miles removed from her apartment in Dayton and the fear she left behind, Grace was beginning to wond
er if she let her impulsive reaction to Tommy’s presence get her into even more trouble. She was lost, she was tired, and the two protein bars she ate were barely a snack.

  Plus, the two coffees. Oh, was she regretting those now. If she didn’t find Ophelia and soon, she was going to have to find a private bush in order to relieve herself.

  She was bouncing on the edge of her seat, grateful at least that she had half a tank of gas left, when she saw a car heading toward her. Finally! Even if they couldn’t help her, it was pretty nice to know she wasn’t the only one out on these roads. She’d been beginning to doubt that anyone actually lived here.

  Grace slowed her car to a stop, trying to come up with the best way to flag the other driver down. To her surprise, once she stopped, so did the other car. And that’s when she saw the dim red and blue lights on the roof of the car and realized that she hadn’t stumbled across another motorist.

  It was a police cruiser. She found a damn cop.

  Okay, then.

  The red and blue lights came to life, flashing brightly, causing her to wince and glance away. With a flick of her wrist, she flashed hers back. Hopefully, the officer recognized a cry for help when they saw one.

  Her fingers trembled against the steering wheel as the cruiser’s door opened. Ever since Officer Daniels’ “accident”, Grace steered clear of the police. They’d never been able to help her anyway, and knowing she was putting someone in Tommy’s path made her leery of asking anyone for help.

  A rueful smile tugged on her lips. Tommy really did a number on her. To think she was this apprehensive when it came to asking someone for something as simple as directions. As antsy as she suddenly was, she almost wanted to jam her foot down on the gas and speed off before the cop could come to her side.

  It was good that she got out of Dayton while she had the chance. Between the flowers, the heart, and the coffee, Grace wasn’t sure she would’ve found the strength to get away from her obsessive stalker if he got to her before she got out.