CHAPTER SEVEN
Where was she?
The car was freezing. He’d turned off the engine to save on gas as he sat outside her condo. Now it was starting to sleet. He glanced at his watch. Nearly midnight. Six hours since she left the office with that guy.
The whore probably went off to his place to have sex or hide—hide from him.
“Dammit!” He slammed his palms on the steering wheel. The sharp, sudden pain breaking through the rage.
Grabbing his bag from the backseat, he climbed out of the car and slipped and slid his way across the icy road to the bitch’s condo. Around back, he found the main junction box for the entire complex’s security services. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his switchblade. He popped the cover, cut the wires and closed the lid. Power going off in one apartment might bring the police. Multiple ones at the same spot, the dispatchers would assume it was the weather.
He entered the building in back with a few deft twists of the knife blade in the lock. From the mail boxes in the foyer he figured out she was on the second floor. Another twist of the knife and he was inside her apartment. Quickly, he pried open the alarm box and cut the wires. The beeping stopped inside the apartment.
How easy it was to get past her defenses. She thought she was safe from him here. Nothing could keep him from her. Savoring every moment, he worked his way through the living area. With the agility of a fencing master, he slashed her pillows on the sofa and chairs. Took out the spray paint cans from his bag and left calling cards on the walls.
Think she could spread her legs for some Neanderthal of a man and not him? He’d be sure to let her know just how vulnerable she was. In the master suite, he pulled her clothing from the closet, hacking at the business suits she wore every day, emptied out her drawers from her dresser—bottom to top. That’s where he found her bras and panties.
He took them out one by one, lifting them to his face, inhaling the scent of her detergent, feeling the silkiness against his cheek. She had excellent taste. He knew she would. Taking a silky white pair, he slipped them into his pocket.
It was after one now. The whore probably wasn’t coming back tonight given how bad the weather had gotten. He stretched out on her bed, pulling the comforter up from the other side.
Finally, he’d sleep in her bed.
He’d rest for just a while. Soon, he’d make her pay for spreading her legs for that man.
* * * * *
Wes admitted he was impressed. Chloe hadn’t talked since they climbed back into his SUV. Simply opened a bag of chips and began munching. Only stopping long enough to swig some of the bottled water she’d bought.
“Technically, you’ve kidnapped me,” she finally said. A calm crispness to her voice, but no anger.
It took her the entire extra-large snack bag to calm down. Interesting. Wonder how pissed she’d have to be to eat both bags before speaking?
“I didn’t kidnap you.”
“You forced me to go with you against my will. I’m pretty sure any lawyer would call that kidnapping. Oh, wait, I am a lawyer.”
“I simply insisted you leave town for your own safety.”
“So, your answer to my stalker problem is to keep me prisoner in some isolated place? Until when? He loses interest? Dies of old age?”
“Sarcasm doesn’t become you, counselor.”
She shrugged and looked out the window. “Right now, it’s all I’ve got.”
The exit to the interstate was next. He forced himself to concentrate on making it off the ramp and onto the highway without sliding on the icy patches that had formed beneath the snow without landing them in a ditch, or worse, wrapped around a tree. The gusts of wind weren’t helping the descent on the exit ramp. Gripping his hands on the steering wheel, he fought to keep the car on the concrete and eased his foot off the gas.
As the ramp curved downward in a half-loop the back end of the car fishtailed to his right. Keeping his vision focused on the road up ahead, he slowly turned the wheel in the same direction of the sliding rear of the SUV. On his periphery, Chloe grabbed the dashboard with one hand and the door grip with the other.
“Oh my God,” she whispered.
The back of the car snapped back the other direction. He turned the steering wheel in unison. As the rear end slid back to the center, he straightened the wheel. Finally, the car was under control again and they’d gotten off the ramp onto the highway.
“Whoa,” Chloe said on a long exhale. “Nice driving.”
“The city salt trucks kept the roads and interstate passable, but now things are going to get dicey the further out into the country we drive,” he said a few minutes later, after his heartrate settled closer to normal.
“Were they calling for blizzard conditions on the weather channel today?”
He shook his head, checking the rearview mirror to see if anyone had followed them off the interstate, reassured when no headlights appeared behind them. “Not when I left Westen this morning. Only one to two inches this far south. Cleveland and Canton were supposed to get hit hardest.”
“I think they need to re-think their prediction. This feels like a blizzard, not just a few inches.” She hadn’t released her clutch on the door grip. “How long until we get to your cabin?”
He smiled inwardly. She’d figured out where he meant to hide her. “Normally about thirty to forty minutes once we leave the interstate. Tonight?” He shrugged. “Depends on the amount of snow that falls and the conditions of the road.”
“And what if we get stranded?”
“Not going to happen.”
A powerful gust of wind picked that moment to hit the back of the SUV, lurching it forward and covering the windshield with snow like someone had emptied a dump truck on top. Wes took his foot off the gas and fought to keep the vehicle from skidding off the road into a ditch.
At a complete stop, he took a deep breath, dropped the engine into a lower gear and started driving forward again. “Don’t say it,” he muttered just loud enough for her to hear.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she said.
He chanced a glance her way, long enough to see her lips quiver. Not tears or fear. He was pretty sure she was trying not to laugh.
For the next thirty miles their progress was slow, due as much to the wind swirling the snow so thick it was like trying to drive through New England clam chowder. The road was hard to maneuver, but since they seemed to be the only ones on the highway, he drove down the center of the two lanes, the headlights on bright, the windshield wipers keeping a steady rhythm. Inside the SUV, the only noise was the light jazz music and the occasional weather alert, advising people to seek shelter to wait out the storm.
“Do you think we should get off the highway somewhere?” Chloe asked after thirty minutes had passed.
“Nothing between here and the outskirts of Westen,” he said, rubbing his free hand over the tense crick that had formed in the back of his neck. “But we aren’t going that far.”
“Where do we turn off the highway to your cabin?”
“Keep your eye open for a sign that says cemetery,” he said.
“Seriously? Cemetery?”
“Yep. It will be on your side of the road after a forty-five degree turn.”
“I’m not sure I’ll be able to see it in this stuff.”
“It’s green with florescent lettering so it can be seen at night.”
“Whose idea was that?”
“Harriett’s.”
“And who is Harriett?” she asked, sounding a little more relaxed.
Glancing over, he was pleased to see her intently watching out her window for the sign. The woman might have a bit of a stubborn streak, as well as a sassy mouth, but she definitely knew how to follow instructions when they were important. That might be just the trait that would keep her alive if the stalker somehow found them.
Before he could answer her question, she pointed up ahead. “There it is!”
He eased his foot onto the brakes, giving just enough pressure to slow the SUV for the turn onto the road leading to the river cabins, but not enough to send them into another slide. Once they were on the road, he shifted the SUV from second to third gear, feeling a little more traction as they headed down the country road.
“If it weren’t so scary traveling through a blizzard, I’d love how beautiful this is,” Chloe said, her voice almost whispery with awe.
He had to admit he agreed with her. The road snaked through the forested section of the county that flanked both sides of the creek that fed into the Mohican River. The trees towered overhead, limbs almost bare of leaves, the snow and ice clung to them overhead, forming a tunnel up ahead, the only light coming from his headlights on the snowy ground. He prayed none of the trees had collapsed under the weight of the ice and snow, blocking the road before they got to his cabin.
He slowed the SUV even more as they made the ninety-degree turn that marked the road to his place about fifty feet further down the road.
“Almost there,” he said, stretching his fingers to relax the tense grip he’d had on the wheel.
Florescent strips on a black post, shone in the headlight beam.
“What’s that?” Chloe asked.
“Marker to my place,” he said, easing the SUV into the drive and dropping the gear to second, hoping to get up the slight rise without slamming into any trees or the drop off on the side of the road. At least they were within walking distance if they did.
“Let me guess, Harriett suggested that, too,” Chloe said.
“Yep,” Wes said, maneuvering the vehicle to the right as the cabin visualized in the headlight beams. They came to a stop and he put the car in park. Exhaling in a huff as his body finally relaxed.
After a few seconds, Chloe turned in her seat to smile at him. “I’ll have to thank this mysterious Harriett when I meet her. She must’ve been a girl scout.”
Wes shook his head. “More like CIA.”
“Really?” Chloe’s eyes widened with curiosity.
“That’s the general rumor about town.”
“Well, now I really have to meet her. What’s her story?” She smiled at him and the genuineness of it warmed him better than the heater in the SUV had.
“How about we get you and our stuff inside the cabin. And I’ll tell you what I know.”
* * * * *
The slashed tires had done the trick.
Strong was headed back to Westen. Back to his comfort zone. Soon, he’d get what he deserved.
The wind and snow picked up. Time to find a place to wait out the storm.
Laughter filled the car as it pulled into the motel just off the interstate south of Columbus.
What was the old phrase?
Vengeance is a dish best served cold.