The Runaway Bride

by Adrianne Lee

  Before Jake could reply, the flight attendant’s voice sounded, advising one and all to buckle up for the plane’s imminent touchdown in Spokane.

  The landing went smoothly, and within the hour, Jake and Laura claimed their bags and rented a Subaru with studded snow tires for the two-hour drive to Riverdell. Jake had spent a whole year vowing he’d never set foot in his hometown again. Now, despite the night, the falling temperatures and the icy roads necessary to reach that destination, he couldn’t arrive soon enough.

  The second the wheels of the airplane kissed the runway, he’d been gripped by an unnameable urgency. It tickled his nerves, consumed his thoughts. So much so, he hadn’t heeded his usual prudence, hadn’t looked for danger at the airport. Hadn’t noticed they were being followed.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Night closed in around the rental car as Jake drove west on Interstate 90, leaving behind Spokane and its vast population. Laura longed to go back, to lose herself in the enormity of the crowds, the anonymity, that false safety she’d utilized this past year. But she’d made no protest when Jake insisted they leave for Riverdell immediately. She’d run away for the last time.

  Jake and she had no future unless they faced and dealt with their past.

  The Subaru headlights glared off the ice-crusted mounds of dirty white that hugged the shoulders of the freeway. The road wore a deep shroud of snow and gravel and lanes were indistinguishable. The studded tires crunched with every revolution. The bouncy ride jostled Laura’s nerves.

  Winter arrived in Mesa with subtlety; it roared into eastern Washington like a blast from the Antarctic, swept far and wide, stabbed deep and fierce, and lingered past all welcome like an uninvited guest

  Laura felt the car skid, and checked her seat belt. She was tired. It had been an exhausting couple of days. If only they could have spoken with Kim…but a third try had again netted them nothing more than her answering machine. Tension nipped along Laura’s shoulder blades. She dragged her fingers through her loose hair, glad to be rid of the wig, the glasses and the annoying contact lenses. She’d tucked them all back into her shoulder bag the second they’d driven away from the airport

  She studied Jake’s profile in the faint illumination thrown by the few other brave souls traveling the freeway. With the temperature dropping and snow predicted, it was not a night for the faint of heart. Jake’s mouth was set as hard as the compacted snow on the roadsides.

  Every mile closer to Riverdell increased her anxiety. Yes, she was anxious to lay her hands on Uncle Murphy’s cream. Yes, she feared coming face-to-face with the person who’d murdered her aunt and uncle, who’d tried killing her time and again. But that wasn’t all of it. No one would condemn her for running out on her wedding day to save her life, but was that the only reason she’d run?

  The car slipped on the icy road, scattering her thoughts. She was glad Jake was at the wheel. “It’s a good thing I didn’t try making this drive alone.”

  He glanced at her sideways and smiled. “You’d have been fine in the daylight.”

  That they could still share this camaraderie threw her. Of course, they’d been friends for many years and knew each other in ways that were deeply ingrained and comfortable. Her mind swung back to her earlier musings. To marry someone, to commit your life to his, took more than an intense knowledge of that person. It took trust

  Hadn’t she trusted Jake? Had running been her only choice? Had she opted to run because she’d been afraid of a murderer and afraid of marriage? Her pulse leaped at the thought. Dear God, hadn’t she wanted to marry? She closed her eyes, recalling the doubts she’d suffered before the wedding; she’d lost a week’s worth of sleep. Why? She loved Jake.

  And yet she’d hurt him in the worst possible way. She had to have been desperate to do such a thing. Laura opened her eyes and stared at the road ahead, seeing nothing as she faced a truth she’d hidden from herself for a whole year.

  She’d been upset at his refusal to believe her aunt and uncle were murdered. But it was more than that, she realized now. It was because he’d dismissed her concerns as though they didn’t matter, as though she didn’t matter. She’d lost her trust in him before she ran away. She’d hurt him deeply by leaving, but he’d hurt her just as deeply by his negation of something that meant so much to her. She couldn’t marry a man who didn’t honor her beliefs.

  And so she hadn’t. She swallowed hard and chips of stone crumbled from the wall around her heart. The sensation felt freeing, cleansing, as though she were breathing pure oxygen.

  The hell Jake and she had suffered these past twelve months found them both changed. For the better, she thought. Jake did believe her now. Thank God, it was not too little or too late. Thank God, she’d grown up enough to forgive. Thank God, he cared enough about her still to forgive her.

  She glanced at him again, longing to broach the subject, to talk until they’d talked it all out. They’d discussed suspects and motives and his mother and the weather—everything, it seemed, except their feelings for each other.

  She started to reach over and stroke his thigh, but withdrew her hand. She didn’t want just to touch him. Didn’t want to make love to him even once more if it would be the last time. She’d rather live with her memories. Before they could begin again, they needed to forget all that had gone before. They needed to start fresh, on equal footing, every touch new, every emotion based on mutual respect and trust.

  Would they be given the chance?

  A semi rumbled past them, the clank-clank of the chained tires rattling loudly, jarring Laura out of her thoughts. “Isn’t this the exit for Riverdell?”

  “Yep.” Jake slowed the car, smoothly abandoning the freeway for the state road—a graveled ribbon that seemed to wind forever through dormant wheat fields, now cloaked in snow and looking in the night like an endless succession of rolling sand dunes.

  Jake chose a cautious speed. This highway had no streetlights defining its width, only reflective markers sticking up from the deep snow at uneven intervals. Staying out of the ditch was a challenge.

  Headlights flashed behind them.

  Jake said, “Some other fool traveling this dicey road tonight.”

  Laura felt an odd twinge of comfort knowing they weren’t alone on this creepy drive. Lots of little towns dotted the area. Some with populations only in double or triple digits. Most of them home to farmers. She glanced around. The headlights sat high off the ground. “Looks like a pickup. Probably a farmer and his family.”

  Jake mumbled, “Hmm.”

  She wrenched back around in the seat. “Do you think we’ll be able to get into the storage unit tonight?”

  But Jake didn’t answer. His gaze was riveted to the rearview mirror. “What the hell is that idiot doing?”

  The pickup came rapidly toward them, too fast for the slick surface. Jake edged as near the road markers as was safe. The pickup stayed directly behind them, charging them with purpose. His heart jolted. Swearing, he slammed the gas pedal. The rear wheels fishtailed, then grabbed. The Subaru leaped forward. “Hold on! It’s going to—”

  The pickup rammed into the rear of the car. Laura squealed. She pitched toward the windshield. The seat belt cut into her chest Metal crunched. Her neck felt snapped. She scanned the road ahead. To her horror, she realized the moisture hitting the windshield was freezing rain. It clung to the wipers, rendering them ineffectual. It had to be obstructing Jake’s vision.

  It would make the road slicker still. The truck struck them again. A crushing, metal-crunching blow.

  The steering wheel jumped beneath Jake’s grip. Somehow he managed to keep on the road. He pressed his foot to the gas pedal. The car responded with more speed, outdistancing the pickup as it started up a steep incline. The little car climbed with heart, its pace fast and steady.

  Behind them the truck engine roared, sounding like a rhinoceros readying for another charge.

  They crested the rise and started down into the valley. Laura
’s gaze flew to the sudden sharp drop-offs on either side of the road, and her stomach crashed. No more fluffy-looking fields. Here, the highway wended down a bluff twice as steep as the one Jake lived on. Instead of desert below, one side fell away to rocky ravine, the other to the Yakima River.

  Laura pressed her feet to the floorboard and gripped the door handle. The pickup rammed the rear of the car, plunging it forward at breakneck speed.

  Jake held the Subaru to the road. He dared not hit the brakes. The car would spin out of control. The truck pulled alongside, looming like a tank over the compact. Then veered into it. Metal screeched against metal as they were tossed sideways.

  Saying a silent prayer, he jerked the wheel toward the truck in a deadly game of push and shove, but the pickup was bigger, with more horsepower. He felt the car begin a slow slide toward the drop-off.

  Laura gaped at the black band of water below. The truck plowed into them again. The car slid faster. Laura screamed.

  Jake jerked the steering wheel toward the skid. The cliff edge loomed. Laura couldn’t breathe. As though the truck driver sensed victory, he raced the truck past them, proceeded to the bottom of the hill and disappeared into the treacherous night

  As if in slow motion, the Subaru pitched toward the cliff. Terror banded Laura’s chest, cutting off her air, cutting off her scream. The river seemed close. Deadly. Eager to receive their souls into its freezing depths. Tears sprang into her eyes. Her vision blurred.

  She felt the tires grab air.

  Then suddenly, the Subaru lurched. Laura was thrown against the door as the car bounded away from the precipice and careered toward the other side of the highway. Jake joggled the steering wheel again. The car straightened. Slowed. A moment later, Jake managed to stop half in and half out of a snowbank.

  He tore off his seat belt and was embracing her before her mind comprehended that they weren’t sailing through space toward the Yakima River. Her heart thundered so hard she could do nothing more than cling to Jake.

  “It’s okay,” he repeated again and again. “We’re all right.”

  The words gradually penetrated Laura’s shock. She drew a wobbly breath, and shoved out of his arms, a new fear attacking her. “What if they come back?”

  “I don’t think they’ll risk it. Not now.” He brushed her hair from her forehead and kissed her there. “Because someone is coming down the hill behind us. I think they scared off our attacker.”

  She spotted the new set of headlights bouncing down the road. The vehicle approached gingerly. Jake sat straighter and Laura released her seat belt. “You think he or she saw this rig coming?”

  Jake nodded. “Damn straight Something sent him into the night.”

  The new arrival, a Jeep like Jake’s Cherokee, slowed to a stop. A door slammed and snow crunched as the driver strode their way. Jake got out of the car warily. Wet snow slapped his heated face. He kept one hand inside his jacket, over his holstered gun. But he doubted he’d need it with the stranger walking toward him.

  He was a well-fed man in Wranglers, a fleece-lined jacket that had seen better days and a spanking new black Stetson. Concern etched his florid face. His eyes were soft-colored, their shade indiscernible in the dim light. He extended his hand to Jake. “Howdy. Name’s Denny Sandy. You folks okay?”

  “Little shaken,” Jake said, giving the man his name.

  Mr. Sandy carried a huge flashlight, which he trained on the Subaru. “Your car’s a mess. You lose control?”

  “Kind of. We got tangled up with a pickup truck that slid on the ice.”

  “And they didn’t stick around to see if you were okay?”

  “Not everybody’s so neighborly these days.”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean. Maybe they thought you’d be mad and shoot ‘em or something.”

  Jake would have liked to have the chance to shoot the jerk driving the pickup. Unfortunately, he’d been too busy trying to keep them from dying to worry about it then.

  “Where you folks headed?” Mr. Sandy asked.

  “Riverdell.”

  “Well, Ma and me gotta drive right through there. You like a lift?”

  “Thanks, but I think the car will make it.”

  “Not very likely.” Denny Sandy shone his flashlight on the rear driver’s side tire. “Looks to me like you got a bent wheel.”

  He was right If Mr. Sandy and his wife hadn’t come along, they’d have been spending the night right here. The Subaru wasn’t going anywhere in this condition. “Guess we’ll take you up on that offer.”

  They got their belongings out of the Subaru, climbed into the Sandys’ Jeep and settled together on the back seat. At least, Jake thought, if the pickup did come back they wouldn’t be there. Denny Sandy had saved their lives twice.

  The snow began to fall in larger, softer flakes. Jake noticed Laura was shivering, her teeth chattering. He pulled her close, finding no resistance in her, only a feeling of rightness and belonging. It brought to mind nights as teenagers when they’d double-dated. Don had driven giving Laura and him the back seat to themselves. Would life ever be that carefree for either of them again?

  Would he and Laura ever have the chance to reconnect emotionally?

  RIVERDELL. The population according to the sign into town read 3,003—the same number as last year. But Laura knew of five citizens who’d moved elsewhere. Either five more people had taken up residence or the mayor hadn’t bothered to update the census.

  Streetlights studded the six-block-long avenue that constituted downtown, illuminating the shops, all closed for the night. They rolled up the rug here around five-thirty each evening. It was nearly ten now and most of the residents would be tucked into their beds.

  It had always reminded Laura of a larger version of Bedford Falls in the Jimmy Stewart movie It’s a Wonderful Life. The odd thing was, she’d changed so much this past year, how could the town have stayed the same? Being there felt like stepping backward in time.

  Jake gave Mr. Sandy his cousin Kim’s address.

  As they drove through town and skirted the river, Laura thought again of the attack on the road earlier and she shivered in Jake’s arms. Riverdell might resemble a sleeping child, all innocent and sweet beneath the newly fallen snow, but she and Jake knew the evil that lived in its heart

  She kept her eyes peeled for a pickup with body damage. She was no longer exhausted but wide-awake. Wired. She’d had enough near-death experiences this past year to recognize the sensation. It would hold her in its grip for a few more hours. Might as well bum it off with action. She whispered to Jake, “Once we get the key from Kim, I’d like to go straight to your mom’s storage unit—provided we can access it this late in the evening.”

  “Sure.”

  The Jeep pulled to a stop before 223 Weeping Willow Lane. Laura and Jake thanked the Sandys profusely and emerged into the cold night. The snow had ceased falling, and the temperature had dipped. The moon stole from behind scurrying clouds and glinted off the fresh snow, giving the whole area a muted, eerie illumination. Cold nipped Laura’s cheeks and penetrated her clothing.

  She hugged herself and glanced at Kim’s house. It was a narrow, two-story clapboard, with a sweeping front lawn and a wide veranda. Kim had painted it an off-white with green shutters. The walkway had been cleared before tonight’s snowfall, but now sported a thin layer of white. A light shone in an upstairs window, with another, dimmer, one downstairs. They strode gingerly to the front porch.

  Laura’s nerves felt like live wires beneath her skin. Anticipation, she supposed. Jake knocked. They waited. Laura’s breath puffed cloudy from her mouth. Jake knocked again. They grew as silent as the surrounding night. Except for the rush of the river nearby, they heard nothing. No one moved inside. She heard no footsteps hurrying to answer the door.

  Jake turned toward her. “This is really odd. She was expecting me yesterday. But she hasn’t called. Not at all like our curious Kimmie.”

  Laura nodded. It was totally ou
t of character for his cousin. Her uneasiness raised a notch. “Maybe Kim took something to help her sleep. A lot of flu-type medications cause drowsiness.”

  “Maybe.” He turned toward the pot next to the door. “She’s always kept a spare key here.”

  “Ah.” He found it and let them in. The house smelled of peach potpourri. Laura glanced around. How like Jake’s cousin to go to extremes with a theme. Kim had decorated in peach. The living room was neat, like Kim herself. Cute and neat. Her parents had given her the deed to this twobedroom house for her graduation present. She’d barely made it through high school, and college had not been an option for Kim. Nor a dream.

  Practical to a fault, Mr. and Mrs. Durant had hoped she’d have a leg up on bagging a husband if she had land of her own. But as far as Laura knew, Cullen was the only man Kim had ever wanted, and he’d belonged to Izzy. At least on the surface.

  Laura rubbed her cold hands together, recalling that Kim confided to her once that she’d “dated” Cullen twice behind Izzy’s back—which Laura took to mean she’d slept with him. She supposed Kim thought having him for a night was better than not having him at all. It saddened her to think that Kim would throw her life away on a man who would never return her love—who would take advantage of the love she felt for him.

  “I wonder if Kim knows yet that Cullen is dead,” she said softly.

  Jake shook his head. “I hope not. God knows how she’ll take the news. It might be better if she hears it from me.”

  “Kim?” Jake called out, moving toward the staircase that divided the living and dining rooms. “It’s Jake. Where are you, cuz?”

  He climbed the stairs. Laura waited below. She heard Jake opening doors and calling his cousin’s name. Then she heard him swear. With her pulse skittering, she ran to the stairs, taking them two at a time.

  When she reached the bedroom, Jake was on the phone. “Send an ambulance to 223 Weeping Willow Lane. And hurry.”

  Laura edged past him and spotted Kim sprawled on the floor. An empty prescription bottle lay near her outflung hand.