Fade to Black

by Molly Kate Gray

  “So I go to the park entrance and turn right?” He raised an eyebrow for confirmation.

  “No. You turn left.”

  The man tugged his baseball cap off and ran his fingers through his banker-short hair, revealing a hint of gray at the temples. “Alright. I go to the entrance and turn left. Then I turn right.”

  She shook her head as she stretched to keep her hamstring loose. “Do you have any paper? You might want to just write this down.”

  “Probably.” He looked sheepishly up at her before he began to dig through his center console. Coming up with a fast food receipt and a pen, he opened the car door and stood next to the hood. “Could you draw a map? I’m not real good at reading street names while I’m driving.” He slid the paper across the hood and waited for her to take it.

  She chewed her lip as she sketched out the simple map. One left. Another left. Traffic light. Freeway. “Here you go.” She circled the car and stood next to the traveler.

  “Thank you.” With one hand he reached for the paper as the other hand whipped from his pocket and clamped firmly over her nose and mouth. The damp cloth did its job, and she only struggled for an instant. He popped his trunk open and quickly bound her wrists and ankles before placing a single strip of duct tape across her lips.

  Slamming the trunk shut, he took a picture of the walking trail and smiled. The water tower with the racing buffalo painted on the side stood tall in the distance. He’d chosen this location precisely for its backdrop. He wouldn’t even need to send a clue where to find the girl this time. Lexie would recognize this place. Of that, he was certain. She’d come to him.

  All he had to do was wait.

  More From This Author

  (From Small Town Secrets)

  July

  Tara frantically tossed the last of the week’s worth of clothes into her suitcase. She zipped the bag closed as she reluctantly allowed herself to look over her shoulder at the television. Even if she’d been trying to watch something other than the weather, she wouldn’t have been able to ignore the red storm alert crawling across the bottom of the infomercial.

  Of course, she didn’t really need the weather service to interpret the radar image dominating the bottom corner of the screen. One look at the massive storm spiraling toward Florida gave her all the information she needed. If she was going to make it out before the storm hit, she had to leave now. Yesterday would have been better. However, trying to explain that to Charles Owens was a lost cause.

  She cursed her boss under her breath. Not for the first time, she wondered if staying in Miller’s Grove was truly worth the cost of continuing to work for Charles. At one time, she thought she was next in line for an anchor position, but now she knew better.

  His insistence that his entire evening news team travel to Orlando every year for team building had become something of a joke. They were all from Miller’s Grove; they didn’t need a week out of town to learn any more about each other — the town gossips made sure of that. This year the news team had almost been successful in talking him into skipping the annual retreat, but that was before Josh arrived and joined the team. Of course, the team needed to bond with the boss’s son.

  Tara had already had plenty of Josh time over the last six weeks. She didn’t need any additional bonding to further discover how much of a conceited jerk he was. Now that he’d left his spot on the network’s nightly newscast, the few stories with any depth went to him. Before they left for their staff retreat, she’d been stuck doing a report on a cat’s seventeenth birthday, and that was the most interesting story she’d done in over a month.

  Turning back to the television, she focused on the spiral of white churning in the Atlantic Ocean. If Josh hadn’t arrived, she wouldn’t be here now. Most sane people prefer not to vacation with hurricanes on the way.

  As with prior years’ retreats, a hurricane came through in the midst of their trip — right on schedule. Clarence, Beth, and Edgar had been mild spring storms compared to Lizzie. At the moment, one of the largest hurricanes in this country’s history was bearing down on the news team. Charles’s reluctance to change the timing of the annual retreat was beside the point now. He’d caught a flight home the night before — the station couldn’t be without its captain at the helm when Lizzie hit.

  When the convoy of SUVs from The Weather Channel had pulled into her hotel’s parking lot last night, Tara knew her chances of flying out of town had gone from slim to nonexistent. She’d frantically called the airline just before midnight, but the call center representative told her to try back in the morning. So, doubting she’d actually need it, she set her alarm for 4 A.M. and hoped for the best.

  Now, ten minutes before her alarm had been scheduled to wake her, she fought back a yawn as she tugged her bag from the bed and slid the worn strap onto her shoulder. According to the man pacing in front of the weather map, Hurricane Lizzie had taken a surprising northern turn overnight. Instead of targeting the Port St. Lucie area as originally projected, the members of The Weather Channel delegation were right. Lizzie was now directly targeting Orlando.

  The local news broke into the infomercial’s broadcast. Tara was soon looking at a surprisingly young man standing in front of the radar screen. As the man wiped sweat from his forehead, he stuttered a warning to those awake early enough to be watching. Tara reached for the remote and turned up the volume on the television. “And for those of you with plans to leave our fine city today, I’d recommend an early start.”

  No one needed to tell her twice. Still holding the remote in her hand, she switched the television back off. Her plane was scheduled to leave just prior to noon, but she could already predict that nothing would be getting in or out of the airport by then. Taking one last glance around the room, she grabbed hold of her wheeled suitcase and flicked off the lights.

  • • •

  Bam!

  Bam!

  Bam!

  “Lainey! I know you’re in there.” Tara rubbed her eyes and leaned against the doorframe of the hotel room adjacent to hers. “Answer your door.” The hotel’s hallway was dark, but she heard movement and voices behind most of the doors that she passed on the way to her co-worker’s room. Thankfully, most of the tourists seemed to be taking the storm seriously, but she knew from experience that most of them would be trading waiting out the storm in the comfort of their hotel room for a cramped space on the floor of the Orlando airport.

  Bam!

  Bam!

  “Come on. Wake up!” Tara fidgeted in the hallway and twisted her hair into a passable messy bun. “I’ll stop knocking when you answer the door.”

  “Gimme a sec.” Tara’s fist hovered above the door as she heard the sliding chain of the lock before the door creaked open an inch. Lainey’s bloodshot eyes attempted to open as she blearily stared at Tara. “It’s not even five yet.”

  “Closer to four, actually,” Tara corrected.

  Lainey shook her head. She tugged a black spaghetti strap from her nightgown higher on her shoulder. “That makes it even worse. Why are you here so early?”

  “You’re sure you want to stay?” Tara fidgeted with her bag. She needed to leave — now. Lainey wasn’t even dressed yet. If she waited for her friend, she might not make it out before the storm at all.

  Lainey’s lips curled into a grin. “Of course I’m sure. This storm’s a reporter’s dream. I can’t believe you’re leaving it behind. The whole team wanted to stay, but Charles gave me the story. If we were at home, you’d be fighting me for the chance to cover it. Admit it. You know I’m right.”

  Tara bit down on her lip and shook her head. “You’re more than welcome to the storm.” She looked at her friend with concern. “I can’t talk you into coming back with me?”

  “Lainey?” A sleep-laden male voice called out from the depths of the room.

  “Just a m
inute.” Lainey turned and glanced back at the interior of the room. She blushed at the expression on Tara’s face — that explained the black silk. “Look. Trevor and I are going to be just fine.” Lainey reached out and patted Tara’s shoulder. “I know how you feel about storms. I promise we’ll be careful. Tonight when you’re back at the station, you can give me that judging little smile before you introduce my story.” Lainey laughed and mimicked Tara’s signature annoyed glare. “Now I’m going back to bed. Good luck catching an early flight.”

  “That’s the plan.” Tara backed away from the door and waved as her friend disappeared from view.

  • • •

  Apparently, that was what every other traveler to the Happiest Place on Earth seemed to be attempting as well. The mood in the airport was decidedly not happy as Tara found herself surrounded by tense parents pulling screaming toddlers through the ticket lines. As she wound through the queue, she had to hope that no one in front of her was trying to get to Atlanta.

  An already weary ticket agent waived in Tara’s direction. She put on her most earnest newscaster smile before stepping to the counter. The woman’s rumpled white shirt hinted that she’d been behind the counter for hours already, and the circles under her eyes all but confirmed it. Still the airline employee made an attempt at genuine customer service. “How can I help you?”

  “Good morning.” Tara glanced to her right. Why couldn’t she have gotten the twenty-something year old guy? At least she could have flirted with him. One look at the gray haired woman beckoning her forward, and she knew she wasn’t going to be able to charm her way onto a flight. Tara took the time to read the woman’s name badge. “Laura, I was hoping I could change my ticket for an earlier flight.”

  Laura didn’t even attempt to stifle her laughter. “You and everyone else in the airport. Some of them have been on standby since yesterday. Don’t you watch the news?” She motioned to the mass of people lining the walls in the glass-walled secure area behind the ticket counters.

  Tara felt her cheeks redden as she fought back a heated response. The travelers behind her were getting impatient at the extended amount of time she was spending with Laura, but she couldn’t let their glares dissuade her from her attempt. She held onto the curved edge of the countertop. “Please, this trip wasn’t my idea. If I didn’t come, I’d lose my job.” Tara fumbled with the boarding pass in her hand. “Don’t you have anything going out this morning? I’ll fly anywhere.”

  Something about Tara’s last plea made Laura realize how truly desperate the young woman was. She reached for the boarding pass and studied it for a moment. “Miss Sullivan, if I put you on any other flight, you’d be traveling standby. And, I can assure you, that’s a very long list on all of our flights today. This flight,” she shook the boarding pass, “is for this morning. It might still make it out.” A gust of wind sailed over the building and the lights flickered as if it were taunting Tara in reply. Both women knew how likely that scenario was.

  “Thank you for your help.” Tara took her ticket from the woman’s hand and her shoulders slumped in defeat. She paused to adjust her overnight bag’s strap. As she began walking again, she caught sight of a large bank of televisions in the sports bar at the end of the terminal. She’d flown in and out of Orlando enough times to know that each television should be tuned to whatever game was on or a replay of the best one from the night before.

  Not today.

  Each television might be showing a different station, but there really was no need. No matter the network, a single image was on all twenty screens — the viewers transfixed by the mass of swirling red clouds taking almost direct aim at them. In an attempt to outdo each other, reporters had donned slickers and stood in the wind on Daytona Beach, ushering in Lizzie. She shook her head as she caught snatches of their reports.

  A storm to rival Katrina …

  Hurricane of the Century …

  Force of nature descending on the tourist capital of the world …

  Families clustered more tightly around the monitors — more than one parent’s eyes widened in fear at the warnings of impending disaster as they held their hands over a young child’s ears. The first band of wind and rain buffeted the oversized windows just as the lights blinked again; adding emphasis to the reporters’ frenzied warnings. Tara shook her head. Freaking people out was just a tool of the trade. Surely the storm wasn’t going to be that bad, but she didn’t want to still be in town to find out.

  • • •

  Tara’s gray eyes clouded as she stared at the overhead monitor in frustration. One by one, the departures changed from merely delayed to vivid red letters spelling canceled. Five flights still showed to be on schedule. Tara sighed in relief as the flight to Atlanta still showed to be leaving in just over an hour.

  “They really shouldn’t taunt us like that.”

  Despite her best attempt at remaining cool, she felt herself bristle at the sound of Josh Owens’ voice. “Taunt us?”

  “Still showing some as delayed.” Josh motioned toward the oversized glass window with the flick of a finger. “We just have to look outside to know the flights aren’t going to make it out.” Even amid this chaos, he still looked like he was ready for a photo shoot, which was likely one of the reasons he’d been one of the network’s most popular reporters for the last several years. With his coal black hair in its constant state between impeccably coiffed and I just had sex, and not a hint of sleep deprivation on his face, Josh gave no sign of being tired or rushed this morning. He took his sunglasses off and placed them in his pocket; Tara was caught in the intensity of his electric blue eyes. More than one traveler stopped in her tracks as she realized the Josh Owens was in the airport.

  A camera snapped in the distance. Josh looked past Tara in the direction of a group of teenage girls. He smiled and waved at the cluster of his adoring fans. He oozed Southern charm through his pores, as he had the capacity to deliver news about a national tragedy while still sounding as if he was trying to seduce the women in the audience. The network nightly news’ ratings rose 30 percent his first year behind the big desk. Tara fought against her instant reaction to roll her eyes as one of the teens feigned passing out in his presence.

  “The Atlanta flight’s still scheduled to leave on time.” Tara frowned at the wall-to-wall windows. The sky seemed to darken by the minute, changing from spent charcoal to the velvety blackness of approaching midnight. Another wave of red lettering filled the screen. She held out hope as long as the flight to Atlanta continued to show 11:44.

  “Keeping the faith. That’s what I like about you.” Josh stifled a grin as he patted Tara’s shoulder. He cocked his head to the side and raised an eyebrow in her direction. “Good luck with that.” Removing his hand before she had the opportunity to brush it away, he half bowed to her as he backed away with an amused grin and disappeared into the crowd pressed around the monitors.

  “We have to make it out.” Tara muttered to the list of flights overhead. Her eyes remained fixed on the status of the flight to Atlanta — the single holdout on the first list of flights.

  That lasted for about five more minutes. Now her flight joined the rest of those on the board. She swept the strands of long brown hair that had escaped from her bun out of her face and massaged her throbbing temples. Turning in a circle, she tried to find an empty spot on the wall to spend the next few days.

  “He’s just as gorgeous in person!”

  “He touched my hand. I’m never washing it again.”

  “Do you think he’d give me his phone number?”

  “My sister’s not going to believe it. I really met him.”

  “And he’s stuck here at the airport. I can’t believe it!”

  The cluster of girls bounced back into view, cell phones clutched in hand. Laughing and showing off the pictures they’d managed to snap with the object of their affection, Josh
’s fan club huddled together as they rejoined their tour group. The teen girls’ faces were flushed with excitement at the prospect of spending an extended time in the airport with Josh. Tara chuckled despite her current state of mind — at least they were enjoying themselves.

  Jingle. Jingle.

  A shiny silver key ring dangled in front of her eyes. Tara’s brow furrowed as she turned to see who was shaking car keys over her shoulder. Of course, who else would be annoying her at the airport?

  “Looks like you’re stuck. Maybe we should have stayed to party with everyone else at the hotel. I heard Todd makes a killer margarita.” Tara tensed as she found herself face to face with Josh. Twice in a single morning, how did she get so lucky? “Too late now, though. They’ve already filled our rooms. I checked. So, looking forward to spending the weekend here?”

  Tara thudded her head against the wall, not even attempting to get a word in edgewise.

  “Don’t try to deny it. I’m on your flight, remember. I happen to have a solution to your problem.”

  “Car keys?” Tara narrowed her eyes and placed a hand on her hip. “Are they magic?”

  “Nope, just a rental.” Josh smirked. “But I did work my own particular brand of magic.” He gave a self-satisfied nod of his head. “These just happen to be the keys to the last available car at the airport. The weather’s not too bad yet. I can drive in a little rain. If we leave now, we’ll get ahead of the storm.”

  Tara looked out the window at the sheets of rain already falling. “I don’t know.”

  “Oh, come on.” Josh reached down to pick her overnight bag up off the floor. “Would you honestly rather be stuck at the airport for the next few days instead of riding in a car with me?” He waved to the group of teenagers singing “It’s A Small World” as they sprawled on the floor.

  Tara pursed her lips and studied the crowd around her. Seven hours in the car with Josh or potentially days spent here in this little piece of heaven? It was a tough call.