Fatal Charm

by Linda Joy Singleton

  “Hurry, Clyde.”

  “Clyde?” He arched a dark brow. “What’s that about?”

  “We’re breaking the law and going on the run like Bonnie and Clyde.” I wiped moisture from the window with my palm and peered nervously at the museum. “Hey, at least I didn’t compare us to Thelma and Louise.”

  He glowered at me. “Just let me drive.”

  I started to laugh—until I looked back and saw the museum’s door burst open. Red-faced, Niles stormed outside, stomping through snow as he ran into the road. He waved his fist and shouted, but we couldn’t hear.

  “Hurry! Drive!” I shouted over the noisy engine.

  “I’m on it, Bonnie.”

  “Go! Fast!”

  The engine revved loudly, jolting me forward then back in my seat. Exhaust smoke spewed dark against snowy flakes and the truck lurched forward. Snow spun off tires and showered a waterfall as we roared away.

  My last glimpse of Niles was of his black beard frosted white.

  *

  The storm was bad—and growing worse.

  Snow piled high on the sides of the road, shutting off everything like speeding through clouds. Red taillights glowed ahead and overhead electronic boards flashed “carry chains” warnings.

  But I was too exhausted to care, and grateful for the warmth of the truck’s heater. I sank back against the seat, too tired to even talk and not sure what to say anyway. I was now officially a criminal.

  I couldn’t get my last image of Niles out of my head. Red-faced, outraged, and … hurt. He’d been kind, invited us to his house, made us hot tea, and offered us dinner. He’d bent museum rules and allowed us to hold the old diary. And I’d betrayed this kindness by stealing from him.

  In the note I’d left, I’d apologized and promised to return the book after we had the remedy. But that didn’t make me less guilty. Niles had every right to have me arrested. Would they handcuff me? I was a minor and this was my first offense so I should get off light, maybe community service. But what about my future? Could a criminal get into a good college?

  I glanced down at Agnes’s remedy book. Small, old, and fragile. Somewhere within those old pages was a cure for Nona. Was getting this book worth going to jail?

  Damn right.

  Still I looked at Dominic, wondering if he thought I was a terrible person. Not that his past was squeaky clean. He hadn’t exactly explained how he’d gotten possession of the horseshoe charm. And my psychic glimpses of his past showed abuse and violence. His uncle used to chain him like an animal outside and beat him. Dominic wouldn’t say how he escaped, except that his uncle was gone. He’d hinted at murder … although I didn’t believe it. But desperation changed people. Ten minutes ago, I’d been a “good girl.” Now I was a thief on the run.

  “You okay?” Dominic asked. He slowed at a crosswalk in Shrub Flats then hit the gas hard, leaving the town behind us.

  “Yeah. Sorry for getting you into this.”

  “Hey, no apologies. We’re partners, remember?”

  I gave a faint smile. “Thanks for being my getaway driver.”

  “Anytime.”

  “I still can’t believe we got out with the book.”

  “It was a narrow escape,” he admitted.

  “Yeah—we narrowly escaped eating bass burgers.”

  Dominic laughed. “Now that would have been a crime.”

  I joined in the laughter—not that anything felt funny. It just felt good to laugh … especially with Dominic.

  We didn’t say much after that and listened to a road report on the radio. Snow came down harder, freezing the wipers with knotty icicles that scraped like knives against the glass. I could barely see anything except blurry flashes from car lights.

  I glanced down at the remedy book and flipped to a random page, but there wasn’t enough light to read. The truck’s panel showed it was only 5 p.m., yet it felt like midnight. Nona would be starting to worry, since I’d told her we’d be back before dark. That is, if she remembered I was gone.

  Now I was the one worrying. I dug into my purse and found my cell phone. It lit up at my touch, casting green light on my hands, but when I punched in Nona’s number nothing happened. No signal.

  “Too many mountains. Try later,” Dominic suggested.

  Then he announced that we were entering California.

  “We crossed the border without being arrested.” I tried to sound like I was teasing but my voice quavered.

  “No one is going to arrest us.”

  “Maybe not you—I stole the book.”

  “Don’t worry. Ninety percent of things people worry about never happen.”

  “What about the other ten percent?”

  “We keep moving so it doesn’t catch up with us. We should be home in less than two hours.”

  “Home.” I whispered the word, tasting its sweetness and aching with longing to see Nona. I tried the cell phone again, but still no signal.

  I reached into my pocket and gazed at the tiny silver horseshoe. Horseshoes were supposed to be lucky, so I rubbed it between my fingers and made wishes. I wished for the remedy to cure Nona, Niles’s forgiveness, my parents happily together, and answers for my own confused heart. I even added in world peace and a cure for common allergies.

  The windshield wipers jammed, ice clinging to them like crystal snakes. Even with the heater blasting, I was shivering. On the side of the road, cars were pulled over and people bundled in heavy jackets and gloves struggled in the snowy wind to put chains on their tires. Four-wheel drive vehicles with snow tires weren’t required to put on chains, so we kept driving—until we came to an abrupt stop.

  “What’s the problem?” I tried to see through the frosty windshield. But I couldn’t see anything other than red taillights from the line of cars stopped in front of us.

  “Don’t know.”

  “What if the police are stopping cars, looking for us?” I asked, the remedy book feeling heavy in my jacket.

  “We aren’t important enough to stop traffic.”

  “I guess that’s a good thing. So why aren’t we moving?”

  “Could be an accident or snow slide. There’s a flashing sign up ahead. It says … ” He reached up to wipe moisture from the window. “Road closed.”

  “Oh, no! They can’t do that!”

  “Happens all the time.”

  “How can you sound so calm?”

  “It’s no big deal.” Dominic shrugged. “Soon as the snow plows clear the road, they’ll open up again.”

  “How long will that take?”

  “Could be ten minutes or a few hours.”

  “And we’re just supposed to wait?” I looked through the frosty windows at the line of red taillights.

  “Waiting is the safe option.” Dominic leaned closer, tossing me a challenging look. “Or we could take a chance.”

  “I’m all for taking chances.”

  “Exactly what I’d hoped you’d say. I know another road.”

  “What if it’s closed?”

  “It’s not busy enough to shut down,” he assured me. “You want to go for it?”

  “It’s better than being parked on the highway.”

  “Okay. Hold on!”

  He whipped the steering wheel sharp, making a U-turn. We double-backed a few miles, then made a sharp turn on a road that wound up being a narrow white-shrouded road. I wasn’t sure this was a good idea, but Dominic seemed confident. I tried to relax but failed. My stomach rumbled and I remembered we’d missed lunch. I was sure there weren’t any fast food places on a back road. Thinking about food made the rumbling louder. I couldn’t even remember when I’d last eaten. When Opal had me bring my jacket, why couldn’t she have told me to bring snacks, too? Even a stale granola bar would have tasted great right now.

  Dominic swore.

  “What’s wrong?” I gripped the seat tightly as I turned to face him.

  He didn’t answer, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.

&nb
sp; “Dominic, what is it?”

  “Sit tight,” he ordered through gritted teeth.

  He kept his gaze straight ahead, squinting at the glow from his headlights. The truck seemed to be going so fast—too fast—into a void of white. And we were zooming forward with a horrible grinding of gears.

  Dominic slammed on the brakes, but the truck kept sliding, slipping, careening—until it slammed into a mountain of snow.

  I lurched forward, then was snapped back in my seat belt as the truck came to a shuddering stop. Light flashes exploded in my head, and I was nauseous. I fought not to throw up, gulping in deep breaths.

  Dominic dizzily lifted his head toward me. He rubbed his forehead where there was a small cut, blood smearing on his palm. “Sabine … you okay?” he asked.

  “Am I? Yeah, I think so.” I did a quick body check. “Bruised a little, but nothing’s broken. But you’re bleeding.”

  He shrugged at his hand. “It’s nothing. There’s more damage to my pride and my truck. Damn—I haven’t even made my first payment yet.”

  “The truck’s not that bad.”

  “But I screwed up and put you at risk, too.”

  “Hey, we’re in this together. You tried your best.”

  “My best sucked.” He smacked the dashboard.

  “Can’t you just back up and turn around?”

  “Not like this. One of the back wheels isn’t even touching ground.”

  The truck was at an odd angle, so I had to shift sideways to look through the window. I couldn’t see much but vaguely made out the dark shape of a tire about a foot off the ground, spinning snow. I had to shift in my seat to stay upright, looking in all directions and seeing only shadowy white-frosted trees and endless snow.

  Dominic unfastened his seat belt and grabbed the door handle. He pulled it, jerked hard, pounded, and kicked.

  “It won’t budge,” Dominic swore. “What about your door, Sabine? Can you open it?”

  I grasped the handle, pulled hard, shoved my weight against the frame, but nothing happened. “It’s stuck, too. Can we tunnel out though a window?”

  “And then what would you do? Walk and freeze your ass off?”

  “You have a better suggestion?”

  “Not yet. But we need to have the window open a crack so we don’t get asphyxiated by running the engine.” Dominic hit the window control. There was a mechanical click, yet the window, like the door, didn’t budge.

  “Open, dammit!” Dominic smacked the button so hard there was an awful clunking sound. The glass whirred open an inch—then stopped.

  Chilly air and snowflakes gusted inside, powdery puffs attacking my jacket. I brushed them off, my fingers stinging from cold. Through the small slit of air, the snowstorm swirled inside. Shivering, I found my gloves and slipped them over my hands.

  Dominic hit the button again and again, only it wouldn’t rise up or down.

  “Now what?” I asked uneasily.

  “Is there a signal on your phone?”

  I checked, but no signal bars.

  “I was afraid of that.”

  “How will we get out of here?”

  Dominic gnawed his lower lip, avoiding meeting my gaze. “We wait.”

  “Wait for what?” I tried not to panic.

  “The storm to let up or someone to call a tow truck. I’ll run the engine off and on for warmth, but we have to conserve gas. If we’re lucky, someone will come along soon.”

  “And if we aren’t lucky?” I remembered what he said about this being a remote back road.

  “Maybe you should check with your spirit guide.”

  He was joking, probably trying to lighten the tension, but contacting my guide wasn’t a bad idea. So I closed my eyes and ran a mental “Google” search for Opal. Only I guess she wasn’t answering her psychic line.

  “She’s not around,” I told Dominic. “Or this must be one of those experiences she wants me to handle alone.”

  “You’re not alone. I’m here.”

  As if I hadn’t already noticed that? Thinking about how close he was, looking at his face, hands, lips—especially his lips—put ideas into my head that didn’t fall under the category of “just friends.”

  “Don’t be afraid,” he said, mistaking my trembling for fear. “We’ll get out of this.”

  That’s not what I’m afraid of, I was tempted to say. But I restrained myself. I didn’t want him to read my real emotions and turned to the window. Not that I could see much of anything. It was almost completely black outside; strange, considering we were surrounded by white snow.

  Dominic checked windows and gages, his frown deepening to a scowl that gave me a sick feeling, probably fear only I didn’t want to admit being afraid, even to myself. How much trouble were we in? I mean, what if this was the end … as in dying? I’d heard of people lost in the snow and not discovered for weeks. Some survived, losing fingers and toes to frostbite, then sharing their true stories in cable movies. But the ones who didn’t survive became only brief mentions on the evening news.

  Is that what was going to happen to us? We were going to freeze to death?

  Dominic had said worrying didn’t solve anything.

  Of course, he’d also said we could get through on this back road.

  Even with the heater cranked high, cold air swirled through the partially opened window. I snuggled tighter inside my jacket, thinking wistfully of sunshine and hot tea. It was torture when Dominic apologetically turned off the engine. The silence was awful, sucking out every breath of warmth. I understood that saving gas was important, but damn it was cold.

  “Sorry for getting you into this mess, Sabine,” Dominic said, looking more miserable than I felt. “I was an ass for taking this road.”

  “At least you tried to do something.”

  “Tried and screwed up.”

  “Blame isn’t important. Let’s just figure a way out.”

  “I hate being so damned helpless.” He slapped the steering wheel. “Hell with the weather. I’ll get the door open and walk back to the main road.”

  “No, you won’t. You don’t even have a heavy coat. And my gloves are too small for you. We’ll just wait.”

  “It could take all night.”

  “Then we’ll wait all night.”

  My eyes had adjusted to the dimness so I could see his frown. He twisted over to look in the back seat, and although it was totally inappropriate considering our dire situation, I admired his firm butt. Working on the ranch gave him a fine body, as good as pumping iron in the gym. I bet his biceps were muscled, too, and I had an urge to reach over and find out.

  He spun around and caught me looking at him, which immediately revved up my body temperature. “Here,” he said, pushing a heavy brown blanket in my hands. “This will warm you.”

  “I’m warm enough.” No lie there, I thought as my cheeked flamed. “You wear it.”

  “I don’t get cold.”

  I didn’t believe that. His leather jacket might keep out wind but wouldn’t hold in warmth. And his clothes were damp from the snow blowing through his window. He had to be freezing—not that he’d admit it.

  “We’ll share the blanket,” I insisted.

  “Would your boyfriend approve?” he challenged.

  I ignored that, not wanting to talk about Josh. “Sharing body heat makes sense. Just as friends,” I added quickly.

  “Sure about that?”

  I knew better than to answer. It was hard enough to act casual as I scooted across the seat and leaned against his hard body. The only sounds were hissing wind and our breathing. I draped the blanket over us, telling myself this was all about staying warm and not about his being so hot. I fit snuggly against his chest. His arm curled around my shoulders. Just as friends, I reminded myself. But tingles shot through me. The energy sizzling between us was like a third person demanding attention.

  “Close your eyes,” he told me. I looked into his face, my breath catching. Sharp angles, tanned rugged s
kin, yet such soft lips. “It’s going to be a long night.”

  “You have no idea,” I whispered.

  “Try to get some sleep.”

  “I doubt I’ll be able to.”

  “Scared?”

  That was only part of it. “It’s just … too quiet. Can you turn on the radio?”

  “Sure.” But when he turned the dial, there was only static. So he bent over to the floor where his CD case had fallen and popped one in. “Best of 80s country,” he said with a chuckle.

  “Don’t you have anything better? Like from this millennium?”

  “You got a problem with country?”

  “It’s not my first choice. But it’s okay.” Having music, even corny old songs, was a connection with the outside world. “Is your truck totaled?” I asked, remembering the last accident, when he’d swerved to avoid a cow. I’d been hurt seriously, but recovered. Dominic’s truck didn’t survive, though, and he’d only bought this one a few weeks ago.

  “The truck will be fine.”

  “What about us?”

  “We’ll be fine, too. Relax and sleep.”

  Sleep was the last thing on my mind.

  “Let’s just talk,” I suggested.

  “About what?”

  “I don’t know … whatever comes up.” I blushed. “I mean, just about anything. We’re always rushing around and never stop to just talk. I’ve wondered about some things.”

  He propped up on his elbow, keeping a safe space between us. There was caution in his tone as he asked. “Like what?”

  There was so much, I hardly knew where to begin.

  How old was he? Had he graduated from school? How did he discover he could understand animals? How had he survived on his own after he escaped from his uncle? Where had he lived before moving in with us? Had he ever been in love?

  I gave him a serious look. “Will you answer anything?”

  “Depends.”

  “We could freeze to death out here, and this may be our last night alive, so we might as well be honest. Only the truth.”

  He looked amused. “Truth goes both ways, you know.”

  “So I ask you a question and then you ask me one.”

  “That could be the biggest risk you’ve taken tonight,” he warned. But he agreed.