Vermont Escape

by Marsha R West

  “Do you win more often than you lose?” She realized the car was slowing down, and then Mitch pulled onto a dirt road. “Is something wrong with the truck? Why are we stopping?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “I’ve got to get back to the shop. Peggy Cooper is coming around three-thirty for her crystal. Mitch, what are we doing?”

  “Be quiet, damn it. I’m tired of your game of twenty questions. Now, we’re going to play mine.” He popped the gearshift into park. “Get out.” He shoved open the door on his side.

  What was going on here? Jill’s heartbeat kicked up, and sweat beaded on her hands inside her gloves. Adrenalin shot through her system, making her struggle to control her feet and arms, and she stumbled getting out.

  “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable with the questions, Mitch. All I was doing was making conversation.” She stepped in front of the truck, glanced around. The dirt path ran back the way they’d come. In front of them, it led into the deep forest, which surrounded them. Why hadn’t she paid attention? But this was Jerrod’s brother. She trusted him.

  “Now you answer my questions. Let’s start with you telling me where the flash drive is with the gambling information on it?”

  Jill’s mouth dropped open. She stepped back. My God. Had Mitch been the one tearing everything up searching for the device? No, it couldn’t be. Her fingers clutched the strap of her bag.

  Mitch’s attention fastened on her movement. “Purse, huh?” He snatched it from her, jerking her shoulder in the process. Fire shot down her arm, and she screamed.

  “You want something to yell about?” His punch sent stars streaking across the back of her eyes. She lost her balance, fell, and rolled down the embankment. She came to rest against a tree and clutched her head to stop the spinning.

  She gulped for a breath. Keeping her wits was crucial. Breathe. She needed to breathe. Liz’s Pilates training came into play. Centering herself, she pulled air in expanding her chest, let the breath out slowly, tightened her stomach muscles, and focused on her body.

  When he didn’t find what he was digging for, he’d come after her.

  She must pull herself together to run or fight. She wasn’t cut out for the latter. Items plinked on the ground when he emptied her purse. This was her only chance to take off while he searched through all the stuff she carried. She took stumbling steps away from Mitch. The direction didn’t matter. What mattered was getting away from him.

  Seams of her purse ripped. Mitch was almost finished. She only had a short time before he’d realize she was gone. Her speed picked up, and she stumbled farther down the incline, ducking through the underbrush, clinging to tree branches for extra support. She searched for signs toward a road, or path, something to lead her back to civilization. One thing was certain. She needed to put all her energy into escape.

  “Jill. You bitch. Where’d you go?”

  He was too close. His enraged shouts sent her heart zinging to her throat. The rustling of bushes sent another shot of adrenalin rushing through her system like a wild fire during the west Texas dry season. Playing hide and seek when she’d been a child had terrified her. She never enjoyed the game with the twins when she was a grown-up mom. Now her stomach coiled in a tight knot of fear. Oh, thank God, a path. She slipped and slid over rocks down the incline, hoping it would connect to a river or creek and lead her to a village or people who’d help.

  A loud noise stopped her. What was that? A shot? She skidded to a halt and ducked behind a tree. My God, was he shooting at her? The thrashing of someone moving through the forest carried through the clear air. She couldn’t stay here. He’d catch her.

  She ran, scooting behind trees and pushing through bushes. Her face stung where the twigs won the battle against her dash through the underbrush. Soft snowflakes brushed against her face. The snowfall increased.

  Already her side ached, and her breath came in big, heaving gasps.

  Just ahead, large boulders dotted the hillside. Thank God. Jill crouched behind one of them. Leg muscles pinged, and despite the cold, sweat trickled down her back.

  Silence. Except for her breath and the pounding of her heart. They had to hear it back in Woodstock. Woodstock. Where the hell could she go now? Who could she trust? Jerrod couldn’t be aware of his brother’s involvement, could he?

  What was that? Off in the distance, a truck’s engine? Yes. The sound became fainter. The truck must be going away. Mitch leaving? Was he going to abandon her out here? She cast a look around.

  Woods. Nothing else. She was out of her element. Shivers ran down her arms and legs.

  She listened so hard she feared her ears wouldn’t have any hearing left, but there were no more indications of someone moving through the underbrush toward her. Aside from an occasional plop of snow from a limb when disturbed by an animal, all was silent. Thank God. The occasional bird or squirrel didn’t scare her. A shudder ran through her body at what else might be out there. God, she wanted to stay hunkered down surrounded by the relative safety of the boulders and cry her eyes out.

  Giving up wasn’t going to do her any good. Tears would have to wait until after she found help, otherwise she could die out here.

  Not the way she’d imagined her life ending. She hadn’t met her grandchildren yet. Not that she had any. The cold turned her feet to unwieldy blocks of ice, unwilling to do her bidding. Had it also affected her mind?

  Grandchildren? Dear God. She slipped and screamed, falling over a dead tree. Her hand covered her mouth. Had she given away her location? She lay on the forest floor, listened, and concentrated on controlling her breathing.

  Her leg hurt. She inspected her torn pants and the bloody gash down her shin. “Oh.” The word escaped as a whisper.

  Several inches of white flakes covered the ground. Though lovely, they made walking difficult. Her boots made a crunching sound when she pressed through a patch of snow. Snow, which clung to her hair, coat, and pants. More attached every time she fell to the ground or brushed against the trees and bushes.

  The dampness intensified the cold, permeating to the marrow of her bones. Nevertheless, she trudged on. Lying down and giving up wasn’t an option.

  What’s that? She squinted overhead. The sun peeked through a break in the clouds for a moment. Thank God. Maybe now she could figure out which way to go. She knew Woodstock lay south and west of where she visited Dillon. Surely, she’d reach something before dark set in if she headed that way.

  The idea of spending the night out in the woods sent her stomach into spasms. She didn’t have time to be sick. She must keep on. With dusk setting in around four, and full dark by five, dawn would be a long time coming. If, God forbid, she remained here after dark, maybe she’d make out the lights of civilization and walk toward those.

  If there weren’t any lights? She pushed the scary notion away. Jill placed one foot after the other and kept going, resolving to find a way out of the mess. By golly, she’d make time to buy the good quality cold weather protective ware Karen always talked about. The clothes she wore now weren’t cut out to handle freezing temperatures for extended hours.

  She’d never be caught unprepared again.

  Her breath filled the air in front of her, more and more labored. She expended more and more energy to keep going. The muscles in her thighs and calves screamed from the exertion. The gash in her leg ached.

  Would this forest never end, or was she moving in circles? Oh, please God, not that. She must keep going. Couldn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. Couldn’t stop.

  She took the next step but found nothing beneath her feet. Jill’s scream sent birds soaring from their perches. She tumbled, and rolled down a hill, landing in a pile of bruised knees and elbows on asphalt. A road.

  Thank God. With care, she forced her trembling legs to support her and limped in what she hoped was a southwesterly direction. She strained her ears for the sound of a truck. She’d have to jump into the underbrush to hide. Her resolution strengthened. She’d
get out of this. She would see Ellen and Ethan again and have a chance to meet those grandchildren.

  After what seemed an eternity, she dragged into a gas station in the small village of South Stanton. The sign over the door identified the Post Office for what must be a tiny berg. The clock on the outside wall said four forty-five. She’d seen no one else on the narrow highway. Not that it would’ve been called a highway in Texas.

  “You have car trouble, ma’am?” A white-haired man in coveralls called to her from the doorway.

  “Yes. Yes, I did. Do you have any water, please?” If she didn’t get something to drink, she’d pass out. He looked her up and down. She must be a wreck but probably not threatening.

  He spat, nodded, and gestured for her to enter his store. “Sure. Come this way. Bottle okay?”

  “You bet.” She drank the bottle half down before his words stopped her.

  “Hey. Take it easy.”

  She let out a long breath. “Right. I can’t thank you enough for this. I’m afraid I’ve lost my purse and can’t pay you. If you’d consider making a phone call for me, I can get someone to come here with money.”

  She dropped onto an overturned crate sitting next to a wood stove. Trembling spread from her legs through her entire body.

  “Who do you want me to call?”

  A moan slipped out when painful tingling like sharp toothpicks driven under her nails hit her extremities. Feeling began its slow excruciating return.

  She hauled her mind back from the pain in her feet and hands. Who should it be? If she called Jerrod, would he believe her about his brother’s behavior? But would the sheriff be any better? If law enforcement was corrupt, was Jack Hardwick up to his neck in it, too?

  Karen and Tim, if he’d come with her.

  “Here’s the number.” She told him the only one she’d memorized. The cell phone —her brain—contained every important number in her life, but it was with her purse, back with the truck or Mitch wherever he was.

  She clenched her hands into fists. God, if she had a gun she’d want to shoot him. Certainly, threaten him, at any rate.

  After a time, the storeowner held the phone out to Jill.

  “How are you? Where are you?” Karen demanded. “Everyone’s worried. Sally started calling around when you weren’t back by three.”

  “I’m okay. A little worse for wear, but okay. Honestly, Karen, I don’t know where I am. It’s called the Village of South Stanton. Don’t tell anyone else.

  “But everyone is worried about you.”

  “Karen, please.” Jill gulped back a sob. “Can you come get me? I’ll explain when you get here. The gentleman who called can tell you where we are.” Despite her best efforts, her voice cracked and wavered, and if she weren’t careful, tears would flood the store.

  “Absolutely. Put the guy back on. Tim and I’ll get there as soon as we can.”

  “Thank you.”

  “But you’ll tell us what’s going on when we get there, right?”

  “Yes.” She’d have to trust someone. If not Karen, who?

  The owner of the gas station left her alone. She was grateful, because God knew she didn’t have a clue what she’d tell him if he’d started throwing questions her way. He’d shown her the facilities, gotten her a cup of hot tea, and kept to himself. The downside was she had lots of time to think.

  Why didn’t Mitch keep coming after her? She was relieved when he stopped, but still his behavior was odd. Was Jerrod involved? His brother was up to his armpits with the gambling consortium and maybe the person in the Austin FBI. Was Jerrod’s son involved? Would Jerrod believe her when she told him? He didn’t seem close to Mitch, but did “blood is thicker than water” apply here?

  Should she tell Sheriff Hardwick? He seemed to be a good man, but still, these were his people and his town. She was the interloper.

  Mike Riley. That’s who she’d call. He’d know what she should do. She trusted him. The sound of an engine and tires on the gravel outside made her jump. Rather than check who it was, she hid in the bathroom. Paranoid? Absolutely.

  Knocks on the restroom door. “Jill, it’s me—Karen.”

  Thank God. Jill unlocked the door. Fell into Karen’s arms. Tears finally streamed like a Brazos River waterfall in the spring.

  “You’re okay. I’ve got you. Tim’s here, too.” Karen comforted Jill like a baby. Exactly what she needed.

  “Thanks,” she forced words through the slowing tears. “I’ll owe you forever. Please pay the owner for a bottle of water, a hot tea, and the phone call to Woodstock.”

  “Sure. Tim.” Karen looked over her shoulder. “Can you take care of that?” She set Jill a little away from her. “Let me see how bad it is.”

  Jill smothered a moan when Karen’s hand squeezed her bad shoulder.

  “Oh, God. You’re really hurt.”

  “It’s nothing. Scratches and bruises. I’ll be okay.” Doubt filled her when a crescendo of pain coursed through her body. From her hurting head, pain spread to her shrieking shoulders, past her knees to her aching ankles and feet. Feeling returned and it hurt like hell.

  “I have a first aid kit in the car. I need to look at some of those gashes.” The concern in Tim’s voice said more than his words.

  “Thank you both for coming.” Damn, the tears flowed again. She gritted her teeth. No. She wouldn’t cry any more.

  “Come on. Let’s go home.” Karen led her out to the car.

  On the dark ride back to Woodstock, Jill told them about the trip with Mitch, his attack, and how she’d fled through the forest. Frankly, she considered finding the gas station a freaking miracle, because she had no clue where she was.

  “Mitch hit you?” Karen drove while Tim attended to Jill’s hurts, fashioning a sling for her shoulder.

  Instant relief when he slipped it on, and she breathed easier.

  “That’s how you got the bruise on your cheek?” Tim handed her ice from the service station. Jill held it against her cheek, while he treated the worst scratches she received coming through the forest.

  Constant stinging accompanied Tim’s words. “We’ve always known he was the bad seed, but damn I’ve never imagined this. Did he tell you what he wanted?”

  Ah. The million-dollar question and a decision to tell the truth or not. Did she trust these two people? She must. She had no other options. By the time they walked into the Livingstons’ living room outside of Woodstock, Jill had shared the whole lowdown.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you at first. It never entered my mind I’d bring trouble with me. I wouldn’t have come if I’d suspected.”

  “Sweetie, this is not your fault.” Karen took one of Jill’s hands into both of hers. “You can’t stop other people making bad decisions. Let’s get you something to eat and figure out what to do next.”

  God, she was lucky in her friends. Surprised at her hunger, she gobbled down Karen’s homemade vegetable beef soup while they discussed strategies.

  “Jill, we need to call Sally to let her know you’re okay.”

  She agreed, and Karen told the assistant enough to keep her from worrying. The truck had broken down. The second call was to Fort Worth detective Mike Riley. It took a while to find the number. They left a message, and almost an hour later, he called back. He promised to be on the next plane to Hartford.

  What about Jerrod? What to tell him was the next giant question Jill needed to deal with, but before she decided what to do, a car rumbled up out front.

  “It’s Jerrod. Do you want to talk with him, Jill?” Tim turned to her.

  Best to get this over with. She nodded. “I’m sorry to put you in this position, but will you stay with me, Tim?”

  “If you want, of course.”

  “There’s no of course here. He’s your best friend.”

  “Yeah, but you’re Karen’s best friend. What she wants takes top billing in my family.”

  Jill hugged him and squeezed his hand. “Thanks.” With the back of her h
ands, she wiped at the tears, still quick to fill her eyes. She would not cry in front of Jerrod.

  The pounding on the door was loud enough to wake the neighbors if any lived close.

  “Tim. Tim. You in there?”

  No mistaking Jerrod’s deep bass.

  “Don’t break it down.” Tim opened the door. “Come in.”

  “My God, Tim. I’ve been crazy. Sally told me Jill’s here. Is she all right? What happened?” The cold air blew through the room as Jerrod entered.

  “I’m here.” She stepped out of the shadows. “I’m fine.” Jill pulled in a big breath and released it slowly as she spoke the words. They were a long way from the truth.

  When Jerrod started for her, Tim stepped between them.

  “Hang on a minute, buddy. Stay where you are, okay?”

  “What the hell’s going on?” Jerrod stopped, and looked at Tim. “Have you lost your mind? Let me talk with Jill for a minute.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Alone.”

  “No.” Jill’s heart constricted at Jerrod’s look.

  “What’s the matter with your arms and your face? You’re definitely not fine.”

  “It’s nothing.” Her hand covered the angry bruise the bathroom mirror had shown already turning blue and purple.

  “I nearly lost my mind when Mother called saying Sally didn’t know where you were. She’d expected you by the middle of the afternoon at the latest when Tommy brought by your new keys and the instructions for your security system.”

  He paced the living room, raking a hand through his hair. “No one knows where my brother is either. We checked with Dillon and the restaurant. People at both places reported you’d come and gone.” He stopped. “What the hell’s going on?”

  She didn’t want to tell him his brother had attacked her and maybe shot at her. The words stuck in her throat. What if Jerrod were involved? She hoped not. Please don’t let Jerrod be a part of this.

  “Talk to me.” His legs spread. His arms crossed his chest, not a man to be ignored.