Rescue Me

by Toni Leland

  She cleared her throat. “This part of the country looks so different from Illinois and Missouri. I like the hilly look.”

  He nodded, then glanced over at her. “Ginger, I know we agreed not to talk about personal issues, but it feels really weird to think your life started in East Armpit, Illinois. I’d like to know you better.”

  She stared at him, stunned that he’d been on the same thought train.

  She tilted her head and smiled. “I was kinda thinking the same thing about you. We can give it a try, but the rule will be that, if one of us doesn’t want to answer a question, no pressure. Okay?”

  “Deal.”

  Neither one of them said anything, then they both burst out laughing at the same time. Dillon suddenly down-shifted and swore softly.

  “Uh-oh, here it comes.”

  Julia gaped out the huge windshield at the wall of white rolling toward them. Or rather, they were driving into it. The snow thickened instantly and visibility dropped to almost nothing. Dillon throttled the truck back even more and turned on his emergency flashers. The snow blew across the road, coming off the lake horizontally, and the wipers struggled to keep the windshield clear. Surrounded in a cocoon of snow, Julia felt eerie, like she was a character in one of Stephen King’s horror stories.

  Dillon grabbed the CB microphone and sent out a general broadcast. “Truckers east of Buffalo on I-90, how far does this mess go?”

  The speaker barked back several men’s voices, all with the same information: at least twenty miles.

  Dillon replaced the mic and shook his head. We’ll be okay if it doesn’t start sticking. And if some hotshot in a four-wheel drive doesn’t decide to be an idiot.”

  The blanket of white lifted a bit and they could at least see the other traffic, all moving at the same slow, cautious pace. Within the next couple of miles, the roadside began to show the effects of the storm. Pickups pulled over, lights flashing. Small cars in the ditches and littering the median strip. And no sign of road crews to alleviate the situation.

  Dillon whistled. “Not a good sign. The lighter vehicles are the first to go. It’s getting slick.”

  Julia remained silent while Dillon concentrated on his driving. A small knot grew in the pit of her stomach as she remembered seeing videos of winter weather disasters and highway pileups on the late-night news, but her own experience with snow and ice was minimal. The Pacific Northwest saw only occasional storms that inundated the roads and brought the region to a halt. She didn’t like being in the middle of this, but Dillon seemed to know how to handle it.

  Up ahead, a minivan’s brake lights come on and, in slow motion, the van begin to turn in a wide arc. The vehicle spun around in a complete circle, then careened off into the median, remaining upright.

  Dillon’s tone was tense. “There’s ice under the snow now. I think—Crap!”

  He grabbed the gear shift and throttled the truck back another notch, then crept into the other lane. Julia leaned forward to get a better look at the object of his concern. A semi truck and trailer had jackknifed, the tractor in the ditch, the trailer flipped over on the shoulder. The impact had burst the trailer’s skin like a squashed plum, and boxes spilled out the opening. Some of the boxes had come apart, spilling their contents over the road.

  Dillon stayed to the far left and eased slowly past the wreck, then pulled back over and onto the shoulder. He set the brake and grabbed a pair of gloves from under the seat.

  “Stay here. I’ll check to see if the driver is okay.”

  He climbed out, sending a blast of icy air into the warm, cozy cab. Julia gazed around her at the white, unforgiving landscape. How awful to be stranded out here. She looked in the huge side-view mirror next to her door, watching Dillon slip and slide into the ditch near the tractor. He climbed up and leaned into the window. He stayed there for quite a while, then climbed down and headed back toward his own truck. Behind him, flashing lights on a highway patrol cruiser reflected off the snow.

  Another frigid gust came through open door, bringing a flurry of icy crystals with it. His face was red and his hair dusted with white. He shivered and rubbed his hands together.

  “Damn, it’s cold out there.”

  “Is the driver okay?”

  “Yeah, they weren’t hurt, but they decided to stay in the cab where they’d at least be warm until help comes.”

  “They?”

  “Husband and wife team. There’s a lot of that in the trucking industry. Having some company makes life on the road more agreeable.”

  He put the truck in gear and slowly inched back out onto the highway. At this point, there was very little traffic, but the storm was still in full swing.

  “Okay, that does it. We’re getting off at the next town.”

  “Fine by me—this is scary.” She thought for a minute. “Do the wives drive too?”

  “Huh? Oh.” He chuckled. “Yeah, most of them. It’s one way to get around the hours-on-the-road rules. They drive in shifts and make excellent time.”

  “I learn something new every day.”

  He didn’t reply, and Julia decided to leave him to his driving. There’d be plenty of time to talk later. She gulped. Now that she’d lifted the ban on personal conversation, she’d have to get real creative.

  In what seemed like the longest forty minutes imaginable, a road sign for the next town appeared. Dillon put on his turn signal and sat back in the seat.

  “Thank God, I thought we’d never get here.”

  If the interstate was a mess, the smaller highways were a nightmare. The heavy weight of the truck was an advantage, but the road was still treacherous. They followed the signs toward the town and Julia’s heart began to sink. Every business was closed, every restaurant dark. She glanced at her watch. It was only eleven o’clock in the morning, but the dark gray skies and lack of humanity made it feel like nighttime.

  “There should be some motels up ahead. If we’re lucky, we’ll be ahead of the crowd.”

  For the next mile, they passed several motels with No Vacancy signs and jammed parking lots. The road intersected with a main highway and Dillon turned east, heading for the next town. On the outskirts of Shortsville, another batch of motels appeared. The first four were full, but the last one still had a Vacancy sign turned on. Dillon pulled in and parked.

  Throwing her a charming grin, he said, “Keep your fingers crossed.”

  He was gone quite awhile and that gave Julia hope. When he returned, his tone was light.

  “I have good news and bad news.” He dangled a key in front of her. “The good news.”

  She half-smiled. “So what’s the bad news?”

  He gazed at her for a moment. “They only had one.”

  Chapter 21

  The motel wasn’t fancy, but it had a pleasant sitting area off the lobby. A television was tuned to the local weather and news, with photos and video of the storm sweeping across the northern part of the country. As she followed Dillon past the reception desk, she overheard a young couple asking about a room, their small daughter huddled beside them. Down the hallway, she passed several vending machines for soda and candy. No real food. Her stomach growled. Dillon stopped and unlocked one of the doors and stepped aside for her to enter. She walked into the room and dropped her bag on one of the twin beds, then turned as the door closed. Dillon had followed her.

  He set his bag on the floor. “It isn’t the Ritz, but we can watch TV and rest until the road crews get the interstate cleared.”

  She dropped her gaze, not wanting him to see how nervous she felt. “I feel kinda bad about taking the last room. Did you see that young couple with the little girl?”

  “Well…we could go back out and snuggle up in the truck, if you want.”

  Julia’s mouth flew open, then she saw the mirth in his eyes and she laughed. “Yeah, right!”

  He strolled past her toward the door, his voice low. “I didn’t think it was such a bad idea…I’ll go see if I can find some food.”<
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  The door closed behind him and Julia’s stomach did a half-gainer. Dillon was too damned appealing for his own good. She needed to get her thoughts straightened out, but quick. An unpleasant scene here in a motel in the middle of nowhere could be her undoing. Her thoughts softened. And how could anything be more unpleasant than her life with Stephen? She walked over to the window and parted the drapes. Across the road, several businesses were gaily decorated with lights, and large colored globes and glittering garlands adorned an outdoor evergreen. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve.

  She turned away from the view, not feeling at all festive. She caught sight of herself in a mirror over the desk. The red hair was awful and she really hated it, but how did one go about growing out a color that was so contrasting to the natural one? She’d have two-toned hair forever unless she cut it really short again. As she stared at her reflection, she thought about Dillon’s comment about her eyes. She’d love nothing better than to ditch the contacts, but it was still too early in her disappearance to take that chance. She closed her eyes. Has it really been over a year? So much had happened and she’d traveled so far that she truly felt like a missing person.

  She flicked on the television and sat down to mindlessly watch the continuing weather coverage, but her thoughts strayed to her travel companion. If and when they started trading personal information, would he tell her about his life as a Federal agent? Maybe. What could he possibly want to hide about that? And what, exactly, would she tell him about herself? She could fabricate a childhood easily enough and throw in some college stories. But the big question remained: what had she been doing with her life for the past twenty years? Working in parts stores? Waiting tables? She bit her lip. Where would all these lies put her if she and Dillon progressed into a real relationship? She’d have to tell him the truth, or spend her life lying, lying, lying. Never in her wildest dreams had she considered what she would do in her new life. And now, she’d damned well better figure it out.

  Dillon stepped through the door and grinned, holding out a brown grocery bag.

  “I found a convenience store that hadn’t been ransacked. These are probably from yesterday, but they’ll be better than cheese curls and soda.” He set the bag on the desk and looked at the TV. “Any new developments? I think I saw some snow plows down the road. We might actually get out of here in the morning.”

  Julia rose, then noticed he carried something else. “Hey, where’d you get the computer?”

  He glanced down. “Oh, I retrieved it from the truck. Thought I’d get a little work done.” He set it on the desk. “You’re welcome to use it, if you want.”

  “Thanks, I just might do that. In the meantime, I really want a shower.”

  She picked up her bag and headed into the bathroom, feeling just a little strange about the situation. She’d never been in a motel room with any man but Stephen. Immediately, the scene in the bathroom in Oklahoma crashed into her thoughts and nausea churned through her stomach. Even now, the thought of his explosive temper terrified her.

  She closed the door behind her and locked it, wondering if that would offend Dillon. Probably not. He seemed pretty laid back and in control of himself, and every other situation. She peeled off her clothes and stepped under the hot spray. The warmth relaxed her and she thought about the effect he had on her. One thing was certain, her own Julia traits were gradually trying to slip into Ginger’s persona, growing stronger and stronger. And that could be her undoing.

  An hour later, she walked back into the room and set her bag on the floor beside one of the beds. Dillon was sprawled in the chair, his head tipped back, his eyes closed. He looked soft and vulnerable in sleep, and Julia realized he must be exhausted from the strain of driving through all that snow and ice. She quietly climbed onto the bed and sat back to watch the news, none of it good this holiday week. Travelers were stranded on highways and in airports, and the hospitals were working overtime with accident victims. From mid-Ohio through Maine and down to the Carolinas, the worst storm of the last twenty-five years had unleashed its fury. And more was on the way.

  Dillon yawned loudly and sat up. “You hungry yet?”

  She nodded and muted the sound on the television while he retrieved the contents of the bag, setting out four sandwiches, a couple of small bags of chips, and four cans of beer.

  “You think of everything, don’t you?”

  He reached back into the sack and pulled out a package of cookies. “Yep, can’t have a party without a little bubbly.” He chuckled. “This will have to do.”

  He unwrapped a couple of glasses from the hospitality tray, then poured the beer and handed one to her. Lifting his glass, he cocked his head.

  “Here’s to winter travel.”

  The beer sparkled down Julia’s throat and she sighed. “Mm, that’s good. What kind of sandwiches did you bring?”

  He picked up each package, one after the other. “Ham. Ham. Ham. And tuna.”

  Julia unwrapped her ham sandwich and bit into it. She didn’t care how old it was, it tasted fabulous. Dillon grinned his lopsided smile and, at that moment, she knew he would be good for her.

  Dillon had watched Ginger emerge from the bathroom, freshly scrubbed and looking a little less frazzled. He’d kept his eyelids lowered, wanting to observe her for a few moments more. As she settled onto the bed, he noticed that her movements were no longer jerky and aggressive, as they’d been at the garage. Instead, she had a suppleness to her tall body that was almost artistic, like a dancer. She liked horses and, if she learned to ride, she’d be a natural with all that grace. She’d look fabulous on an elegant Hanoverian, dancing through the dressage paces with ease. Maybe her work with the rescue farm would culminate in owning a horse, or at least leasing one to ride.

  His thoughts had snapped back several years to a dusty, hot stable in a God-forsaken place. His visit to the rescue farm had been a sharp and painful reminder of the past. His feelings of helplessness then had been far worse than the rigors of war.

  After he set out the sandwiches and beer, they sat in companionable silence, only murmuring occasionally about something on the television. Occasionally, he’d cast a sideways glance at Ginger, measuring her reactions and her current temperament. Today might bring those conversations that would tell him more about her. A small thread of concern passed through his mind. And just what was he going to tell her?

  She finished the last bite of sandwich and brushed the crumbs off her lap, then looked up and smiled, sending a thud through his chest. It had been far too long since he’d had female companionship—a fact of his own doing, but he hadn’t expected to feel quite this good quite so soon.

  She stood up and stretched, revealing a sliver of pale flesh between her jeans and tee shirt. Another thump rattled through his ribs and he looked away. He might have to sleep in the truck after all.

  She grimaced. “I’m going to take a little walk up and down the hall, loosen up before rigor mortis sets in.”

  “I’ll do the dishes while you’re gone.”

  The door closed behind her and he let out a long, slow breath. Ginger Green was starting to get to him.

  Julia stepped outside the room and exhaled sharply. She felt jittery and unsettled, her thoughts racing through the past few hours and trying to ignore the coming night. Dillon was really beginning to affect her, and not just about her charade.

  She turned and walked down the long hall toward the lobby, pondering the situation. Whatever story she told him about herself, it would be yet another set of facts to keep straight. As long as she’d stayed to herself and only interacted with Bud, she’d been able to remember what she’d said to whom. Bud had never asked many personal questions, presumably because of her request to be paid cash for her work. Then Casey Turner had entered the picture and even that hadn’t been a problem. Casey was only concerned with Julia’s ability to help out at Sunny Hills, and contact with the woman was minimal. But Dillon was a whole new can of worms.

  Julia st
opped short at the door to the lobby. The small area was jammed with people. Every available place to sit was occupied, and several children played a game on the floor. Suitcases and duffel bags were piled in one corner of the room. A couple of teenagers were hunkered down on the floor, one bobbing his head to whatever was coming through his earphones, the other focused intently on a cell phone, her thumbs moving quickly and expertly over the keys.

  Julia’s gaze moved to the front window. Snow swirled and danced across the parking lot and not a thing moved in the white expanse. She glanced over at the woman behind the reception desk. An act of kindness was a rare thing to find, and this person had opened her doors to anyone needing shelter, handed out extra pillows and blankets, even though she’d have no monetary gain from it.

  Julia walked back down the hall, composing her life story, taking bits and pieces of her real existence and fabricating them into something believable and acceptable. If the future brought a reason to change the story, she’d have to face that when it came. For now, she wanted a way to bring a level of credibility to her friendship with Dillon. What facts could she use or customize? Dillon already knew her real eye color, and any idiot could see that she’d dyed her hair. Being stylish? Hardly. Dillon’s law-enforcement background would probably give him a good feel for fabrications and secrets. She stopped at the ice machine and popped a cube into her mouth, then continued down the hall. Did he already suspect she was on the run for some reason? Should she just make that part of the story? She scowled. At least it would be a legitimate and believable reason for changing her looks. The less she said, the better off she’d be down the road if the truth ever came out. She stopped outside the door to their room. Would she ever have to tell him the truth? The ice in her mouth had long melted, but the ice in her chest only grew colder as she opened the door.