by B. J Daniels
“You’re saying True Fan knows someone in Whitehorse who mailed the letter?” Annabelle had said. “But wouldn’t that person know TJ?”
“Not necessarily,” Chloe had said, and had shot her sister a look.
“Stop trying to make me feel better,” TJ had said. The owner of the gift shop had called her Tessa Jane, the name everyone in Whitehorse had known her by. And now her True Fan was also calling her by that name after meeting her at the book signing? Or had True Fan known her real name all along since it was right at the front of the book under copyright?
She knew he could have found out her name in any number of places, but that True Fan was now using it...
Annabelle pulled out in a wide spot and cut the engine and radio. The silence was as deep as the snow around them. “Ready?”
They tugged on coats, snow-pants, boots, hats and mittens and disembarked with Annabelle toting the ax. At first they walked up the road but quickly realized they would have to separate and go into the woods to find a tree.
“Remember no taller than eight feet,” Annabelle warned them. “Trees always look smaller out here.”
“You’d think she’d been doing this her whole life,” Chloe commented to TJ before they split up. “One trip to get a tree with Dawson and now she’s an expert.” Growing up, their grandmother had had a fake tree, one of the first ones they’d come out with.
TJ stepped off the road into the trees and then waited until her sisters disappeared into the woods before she dropped back down on the snow-covered dirt road. She could see older tire tracks now filling with snow from where someone had driven in here earlier. She followed the tire tracks in the deep snow, determined to find Silas Walker’s cabin.
Walking through the falling snow had a dizzying effect on her after a while. It was like being inside a snow globe. She stopped to look back and saw how quickly her tracks were filling in.
TJ had no idea how far she’d gone when she noticed fresh tracks had turned up an even more narrow snowy road that led up the mountain. There were no new tire tracks on the road she’d been following. If Silas Walker had driven back in to his cabin after the signing then there was a good chance these tracks were his.
She decided to follow the tracks in the hope of coming across his cabin. Following the tire tracks, she hadn’t gone far when she caught the smell of wood smoke on the air. She kept going through the falling snow, losing track of time and distance.
After continuing to climb up the road deeper into the mountains, she stopped to catch her breath and considered turning back. But she’d gone too far to do that. She told herself that if she didn’t come across the cabin soon, she would.
She wasn’t worried, but when she looked back, she saw that her boot tracks had filled in. All around her was nothing but white. The snowflakes were falling much harder now. She could barely see the road ahead through the snow. She felt a chill and realized how crazy this had been.
Just a little farther, she told herself, and was almost ready to give up when she spotted smoke rising up out of the trees in the distance. Hurrying now, she headed toward it. Annabelle had said that there were several cabins up here. She told herself that this one had be Silas Walker’s. There’d only been one set of tracks this far into the mountains and most of the cabins up here only were used in the summer.
As she drew closer, she saw the truck he’d been driving parked next to the small log cabin. Wet and cold, she hesitated. She knew she should get back to her sisters. They would be worried about her.
From the side of the cabin Silas Walker stepped out carrying a huge armload of firewood, startling her. As if sensing her, he looked up. Surprise registered on his face, then another emotion.
TJ spun around and tried to run back the way she’d come. Her boots slipped on the icy road beneath the snow. She went down hard. Her left leg twisted under her as her boot heel caught on the ice. She let out a cry of pain. Struggling to get up in the deep snow, she realized her ankle was hurt badly. She dropped back to the ground, grimacing in pain, suddenly terrified because she wasn’t going far on this ankle.
When she was suddenly lifted off the ground, she screamed. She struggled, but Silas had her in a bear hug and this man was way too large and strong for her to overpower him. Her scream was suddenly cut off by a large gloved hand over her mouth.
“Stop struggling, you’re only going to hurt yourself worse,” he said next to her ear. “I’m going to set you down on your good leg. Okay?”
She sucked in air through her nose and stopped fighting him to nod.
The moment he set her down, she slugged him in the stomach. It was like hitting a block wall and turning, she tried to run and immediately collapsed on her bad ankle.
He was on her again, covering her mouth as she began screaming in both pain and terror. “One of us is crazy. Since it’s not me,” he said, “we’re taking this inside the cabin where it’s warm.” He tossed her over one broad shoulder and turned them both toward the cabin.
She screamed and pounded his back, but it had no effect as he strode up the porch steps of the cabin, shoved open the door and stepped inside. Swinging her off his shoulder, he dropped her unceremoniously into a large overstuffed chair.
Immediately she tried to get up, letting out a cry as she put pressure on her hurt ankle. Not that she was going anywhere even if she hadn’t twisted it. He dropped a hand to her shoulder and held her in place as he kicked the door shut. It was warm inside the cabin and at the smell of something cooking her stomach growled, although she hardly noticed.
“What are you doing out in a blizzard?” he demanded, towering over her. He smelled of freshly cut pine. There was a maleness about him that was intimidating and at the same time intoxicating, even if he was her demented True Fan. She thought of a mountain lion on the prowl and felt like a small rabbit wanting to run for its life.
“You have to let me go!”
He held up his hands. “Not until you tell me what’s going on. What are you doing here, TJ?”
So he had recognized her, even bundled up with her hat covering half of her face.
“I was out looking for a Christmas tree. I got turned around.” She started to push out of the chair but he held up his hand.
“Hold on. Looking for a Christmas tree? And you just happened to stumble onto my cabin? Tell me you didn’t come up here by yourself.”
“I didn’t. I came with my sisters. They’ll be looking for me. That’s why I have to go. They’ll be worried.”
But even as she said it, she knew they wouldn’t be able to find her. They thought she’d come up here to find a Christmas tree. They would be looking for her closer to where Annabelle had parked the SUV. By now they could have a tree and be loading it.
She imagined them calling her name, joking around until they started to get worried when she hadn’t appeared. Would they try to track her? As hard as it was snowing right now, her tracks would have filled in. They’d never be able to find her.
What had she been thinking? She hadn’t. She’d acted on instinct and this is where it had led her.
She tried to get up again. He didn’t push her back down, but he did move to crouch down in front of her. “TJ, you’re a terrible liar, no offense. What are you really doing here?”
If only she knew. It wasn’t as if she’d had a plan. She’d wanted to find his cabin. She’d wanted to spy on him. She’d wanted to learn more about him because she believed he was True Fan? Or because of that exhilarating and yet confusing mixture of strong feelings she’d had the first time she’d laid eyes on him?
What she hadn’t wanted to do was get caught and end up trapped in his cabin with him. It galled her what she’d done, since there was no way she would have let the heroine in her books do something this stupid.
Past him, she could see just how small the cabin was. It was only one room with a fireplace, a
very small kitchen area, the chair she was sitting in and a bed. Next to the bed was a makeshift desk. It was what she saw on it that stopped her heart.
Sitting on the desk was a large old manual typewriter.
Chapter Nine
TJ felt her eyes widen in alarm. Silas had seen her look in the direction of the typewriter. Now he was frowning at her in a way that turned her blood to slush.
She thought of all the books she’d written where the heroine escaped by hitting the villain with a makeshift weapon. Or catching him off guard and kicking him in his private parts before bolting for the door.
While there was a floor lamp next to the chair, she couldn’t imagine how she could grab it, swing it and hit him hard enough to get away. That was if she could walk on her ankle—let alone run.
But given no other option—she sat up a little. He was crouched directly in front of her. She’d barely kicked out with her good leg when he grabbed it, stopping her foot before it could reach its mark.
“That only works in your books,” he said, his voice deep and rough. “Most of the time, it only makes the bad guy more angry. Let’s quit playing around. Tell me what’s going on.”
“I know who you are.” She hated that she sounded near tears. “You’re my True Fan.”
He frowned again. “Yes, I’m a fan of your books but...”
She felt fear give away to anger. “You’ve been sending me the letters!”
“Letters?” he repeated.
“Don’t deny it. I know it was you who pushed me in front of the truck in New York yesterday morning.”
He rocked back on his haunches. “Whoa. Yes, I was there, luckily for you. I didn’t realize that you even saw me. Only I didn’t push you,” he said, enunciating each word. “I was the one who saved you before you became roadkill.”
“Right, you just happened to be walking past.”
“No, as a matter of fact, I was following someone.” He made a face as if he saw what she was thinking. “It wasn’t you. I was on a stakeout.”
“I know you’re not a cop anymore because you got fired.”
“Did some research on me, did you?” He grinned. “I’m flattered. But don’t believe everything you read in the paper. Anyway, I work for a private investigative business now. Or I did. I just took a leave of absence. Or did you already know that as well? And, sorry, but I haven’t been writing you any letters.”
“You’ve been taunting me for months. Admit it. I just got your latest threatening letter today.”
“You’ve got the wrong guy.”
“Really? Next you’re going to tell me that you just happen to have a manual typewriter like the letters have all been written on,” she said, jabbing a finger in its direction. She saw his sheepish look. “That’s what I thought.”
“You have it all wrong,” he said, getting to his feet. “If you must know, I’ve been trying to write a book.” He shrugged, looking embarrassed. “I use a manual up here because the power goes out more than it’s on this time of year. I read that you write every day so I’ve been trying to do that.” He moved to the woodstove. “You inspired me to at least try. Unfortunately, I don’t have your talent.”
She watched him throw another log into the woodstove. Did he really think she believed him? “I need to go. My sisters will be looking for me.”
He turned to look at her. “Have you checked out the weather outside?”
She hadn’t, but she did so now. The wind had picked up, whirling snow in a blinding white that covered everything. Worse, the visibility was only a few yards. She’d grown up in this county. She knew how easy it was to get lost. Ranchers often tied a rope from the house to the barn so they didn’t wander off track and freeze to death.
“Once the storm stops, I can try to get us out of here in my pickup,” he was saying. “But the truth is, I barely made it back earlier with a load of wood I cut from that beetle kill area by the road. I shouldn’t have to tell you how slick that road into the cabin is. By the way, how is your ankle?”
“It’s fine.” She started to get up. He didn’t move to stop her. But as she put pressure on her twisted ankle, she winced in pain. Who was she kidding? She wasn’t going anywhere on that leg even if she could find her way back. She dropped into the chair and dug out her cell phone.
“Good luck with that,” he said as he watched her. “I’ve never been able to get much coverage in a storm. Sometimes a text will go through.”
TJ saw that he was right. She only had two bars. She bit her lower lip, fighting back tears as her call didn’t go through. Her sisters would be frantic.
She sent a text. At Walker’s cabin until storm lets up. It was the best she could do since the text appeared to have gone through.
Raising her gaze, she realized that at least Annabelle and Chloe were together. While she was the one in real trouble.
* * *
“LOOK, MAYBE WE could start over,” Silas said, seeing how upset she was. “We’re stuck here until the storm stops. By then, your sisters will have Search and Rescue looking for you. In the meantime, I’ve got some beef stew and some homemade bread I baked in the woodstove yesterday. It was my first attempt so I’m not making any promises.”
She swallowed and looked out at the storm before turning back to him.
“Are you all right?” he asked quietly.
“I shouldn’t have come here.”
No, she shouldn’t have. “Hey, you thought I was this person who’s been writing you threatening letters. Actually, I’m relieved. I couldn’t understand your reaction to me at the gift shop or at your signing. I didn’t think I was that scary.” Still she said nothing. “You really think someone pushed you yesterday in New York.”
“I know someone did. I was shoved in front of that truck.”
She was looking at him as if she wasn’t convinced it hadn’t been him. He could see now where she might have gotten that idea. He should have stuck around and talked to her. But he would have lost the person he was tailing. As it was, he did anyway.
“That was pretty gutsy of you to come looking for me the way you did. Given you thought I was the person who was writing you threatening letters let alone suspecting I pushed you in front of a truck. Probably not your best plan. Good thing I’m not that person.”
“Good thing,” she said, a little sarcastically. “Otherwise I would be trapped here with someone who wants to hurt me.”
He rubbed his whiskered jaw. “How can I prove to you that I’m not this fan you say has been taunting you?” He stepped over to the typewriter. “Truth is, I admire the devil out of you. You’re why I wanted to write my own book. I thought it would be easy.” He laughed, picked up a handful of typewritten pages and came back over to where she was sitting.
To his surprise, she seemed to flinch at the sight of the paper. “Don’t worry, I wasn’t going to ask you to read it.” He realized that she was staring at the paper as if...as if what?
She snatched a sheet from his hand. “Where did you get this?” she said, holding up the paper. His expression must have conveyed his total confusion. “Copy paper is usually white or some color. This is discolored. There even appear to be watermarks on some of it as if—”
“As if it was stored in a basement for years?” he asked. “I bought it at a garage sale in town last summer.”
“Whose garage sale?” She sounded as if she didn’t believe him. But then again, she hadn’t believed anything he’d said.
“How should I know whose garage sale? Remember? I’m new here.” He could see that she was still expecting more of an answer. “It was some elderly woman. Her house was for sale. Apparently she’d had boxes of the stuff in her basement for a while. She was practically giving it away.”
“Why would she have boxes of it in her basement?”
“I have no idea. Wait. I might have overhe
ard someone say she used to have a business in town that sold office products. Is it really that important to you? I bought one of the boxes filled with reams of paper. You’re welcome to—”
“The person who has been sending me the threatening letters typed them on a manual typewriter like the one you have on paper exactly like this.” She held up the sheet, her eyes glittering with tears. “Still going to tell me that you aren’t True Fan?”
* * *
SILAS HELD UP both hands. “Maybe, since we have a little time now that we’re snowed in, I can convince you of my innocence. In the meantime, why don’t you get out of those wet outer clothes?” he suggested. “By the way, if you have to use the facilities, there’s only an outhouse in the back. It’s a short walk, but if you can’t make it out there with your ankle, I’ll be happy to help you.”
TJ wished he hadn’t mentioned it because now she felt the need to go. She pushed to her feet, grimacing as she put weight on her ankle. Silas was at her side in two long strides.
“Lean on me,” he suggested as he walked her to the back door off the kitchen. As he opened the door, a gust of wind showered them both with snow crystals. They stepped out into winter, Silas closing the door behind them.
He was right. It was a short walk and he’d shoveled earlier. But the snow had filled in the path. Tucking their heads into their coats they made their way to the outhouse.
“Sorry. It’s pretty primitive. No hurry,” he said as he opened the door and let her limp inside. “I’ll wait at the back door of the cabin. I’ll come help when I see you.”
She closed the door. It was freezing in the one-hole outhouse. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d used one. Drawing down her pants was no easy job as bundled up as she was. As she lowered herself to the wood seat she was sure her behind would freeze to it.
No hurry, Silas had said, but she hurried, anxious to get her pants pulled back up to get heat to return to her backside. Shivering, she opened the outhouse door. Good to his word, he came charging out.
