Devil's Way Out

by Nika Dixon

“Are you sure?” Maggie prompted. “It’s no bother.”

  Emma twisted herself sideways off the seat. As soon as she stared to rise, Marshall got to his feet.

  Expecting him to try and stop her, she took a step back, but he remained where he was, standing next to his stool. She took a deep breath and picked up the brown paper bag with her dress inside.

  “May I please use the ladies’ room?” she asked, directing her question straight to Maggie.

  “Of course, dear.” Maggie pointed to the back of the diner. “Down the back hallway there, on your right.”

  Keeping her spine straight and her gait even, Emma walked slowly to the back of the room. The crushing pressure of knowing they were all watching her fell from her shoulders the second she was out of their line of sight. The back hallway gave her three choices—the men’s room, the ladies’ room, and a large metal door with a glowing red sign above it.

  Exit.

  She held her breath and listened for any sounds of pursuit. No one had followed her. No one was watching.

  She headed for the back door as fast as she could go without breaking into a run.

  …

  “I’m sorry, miss, but like I said, it’ll be a couple of days before I can get it apart and cleaned up and dried out. Could be as long as a week before she’s back on the road again, and that’s without knowing what broke when it went through the fence.”

  Bobby the mechanic’s words shredded Emma’s hope of an immediate escape. Fearing she wasn’t being clear with her explanation, she asked the question different ways, but the bearded man in stained overalls gave her the same answer each time.

  At least a week.

  Dejected, she stared through the open office doorway at the little blue car sitting alone in the work area. The broken headlights and crumpled nose were smirking at her from beneath a mud-caked, grass-spattered covering. She’d had the sad idea if the car could be fixed, she could ask Georgie to drive her back to Pikes Falls by convincing the older lady it would save them both trouble. Georgie could return the “borrowed” car to where she’d found it, and Emma could…

  Well, she wasn’t sure what she could do with no money and no place to stay, but Pikes Falls was big enough there had to be something.

  “The insurance company is sending someone out from Pikes Falls tomorrow to look at it. Maybe they could give you a ride back?” Bobby offered.

  Her hopes rose. “Do you think so?”

  “Can’t hurt to ask, I suppose.”

  “What time are they coming?”

  “Don’t rightly know. Sometime tomorrow was all I got. Supposed to call me in the morning and confirm, though. If you give me the number where you’re staying, I can let you know.”

  She shook her head. She had no number to give him. “What time do you open?”

  “Around eight or so.”

  Taking note of the time on the neon beer logo clock hanging on the wall, she allotted herself the required hours, but no more. If the insurance person said no, she’d ask the mechanic to find her the first ride out of town, preferably in a westerly direction, and not with the sheriff.

  Chapter Seven

  Emma rested her head in her hands, her elbows poking into the paper bag in her lap. The passing of time hadn’t brought any clarity to her situation other than to point out how an oversize sundress wasn’t appropriate evening wear for a bench in the middle of nowhere. A layer of cotton wasn’t going to do her if she was planning on sitting around outside, but moving required a destination, and now that the sun was gone, she had no idea which way west was.

  While she was relieved for the solitude of the tiny town, she couldn’t help but wish for the amenities and anonymity that came with being in a big city. Without taxis or buses, there was nothing here to aid her escape.

  She stared down the road to where it disappeared beneath the arches of the overhanging branches. The reality of her situation turned her stomach, making her recent bowl of stew sit more like a meal of rocks. A giggle slipped out. Then the laugh turned into a sob. She clamped her lips together and pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. No. She wasn’t going to cry. She’d had seven days to cry past her fear, and seven days to convince herself she was strong enough—smart enough—to survive on her own.

  If only she could believe her own lies.

  Alan had an unending army of people and resources, and the cash to buy their loyalty and silence, while she was sitting in the dark on the side of an empty road, with no money, no food, and nowhere to go. He had contacts up and down the entire East Coast, and she had nothing but a panicked plan to keep going west until the land ran out and she hit the ocean. Only then maybe, just maybe, she’d be far enough away from him to finally be safe.

  A sudden snapping crunch of tires on gravel sent a flash of alarm through her. She jerked back and tumbled off the bench. Lurching to her feet, she readied herself to run.

  Panic spilled into relief as she recognized the white pickup truck.

  It wasn’t Alan.

  Yet.

  The sheriff walked around the front of the truck and stopped a few feet away. “Sorry we missed you back there.”

  His tone was calm and friendly, but the situation was anything but. She shouldn’t have left. No, she shouldn’t have stopped.

  She eyed the road ahead, but the path to freedom was washed away by the truck’s headlights.

  “You waiting on a ride?” he asked casually. “Family? Friend? Husband?”

  “No, I don’t have—I didn’t—I’m not married.” She shook her head in desperation to find an answer that didn’t sound like the sad truth—that she had no one to call. She glanced past him to Marshall, but the cowboy stayed in the front passenger seat, his arm resting casually in the open window while he watched her.

  “So, out for a walk, then,” the sheriff continued.

  “Yes?” She cursed the warble in her voice. She took a deep breath and forced her shoulders down. Breathe. Stay calm. You’re going to be fine.

  “Why don’t we take you back to the station? You can give your family a call. Let them know you’re okay.”

  She blurted out the first thing she could think of. “I already called them.”

  “You did?”

  “I called from the garage.” She put as much of the truth into the statement as she could. Bobby had asked her if she needed to use the phone. She’d said no, but she could have easily said yes.

  “Oh. So, you are waiting for a ride.”

  “No. Tomorrow. I’m going to Pikes Falls. Tomorrow.”

  “Ah. Do you have someplace to stay tonight?”

  The question was a trap. He already knew she didn’t, and admitting she was contemplating walking to the next town would make her sound utterly crazy.

  “No matter,” he continued. “We know a real nice family you can bunk with for the night. They have plenty of room and don’t mind taking in a straggler or two here and there.”

  Dread drove her heart into her throat. “Oh, no, no. That’s okay. I’m sure I’ll find something…”

  “Absolution’s not much for hotels,” he said with a smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. “But a room for the night we can do.”

  Offering her a real bed to sleep in was the best bribe he could have come up with, but the unanswered questions ate at her, starting with who the family was and how easy would it be for her to sneak out in the morning.

  “They’re good people,” he said. “You have my word. Besides, I wouldn’t be much of a sheriff if I left all the stranded travelers to spend the night in the park. Hop in. It’s not far.”

  She walked to the truck. It wasn’t as though she had much of a choice, what with the town lawman calling the shots. The last thing she needed was to have anyone thinking she was anything other than a woman in need of a night’s stay after being tricked by a nice old lady in a stolen car.

  Marshall got out of the front seat to open the rear door for her. He extended his hand to help her up
into the seat. She slipped her fingers against his, shocked by the warmth of his skin. She stared down at their fingers, awed by how his larger hand made hers all but disappear. His grip was firm and confident, yet with a surprising gentleness.

  This time, the strange familiarity carried a sense of comfort, like the weight of a soft blanket on a cold winter night. She held her breath, hoping to catch enough of it to understand what it meant, but the harder she tried to reach for the root of the feeling, the farther it drifted away. She looked up at him, catching a curious tilt to his head.

  Did he feel it, too?

  “Everything okay?” Danny called out.

  She jumped at the interruption. The only oddity anyone was feeling was exasperation—at her, for forgetting where she was and what she was supposed to be doing. Instead of getting into the truck, she was blocking the doorway and clutching desperately to a total stranger’s hand. Her cheeks burned with the same heat melting her fingers.

  As soon as she was in the seat, she snatched her hand back. The loss of contact hit her like a wash of cold water. He closed the door, sealing her inside. The barrier did nothing to quell the odd sense of longing within her.

  Instead of being relieved to be free of a strange man’s touch, she was confounded by the uneasy sensation that she didn’t want to let go.

  Chapter Eight

  The farther into the dark countryside they drove, the higher Emma’s stress level rose. She couldn’t shake the worry that she was about to be dropped off in the absolute middle of nowhere. Wherever they were going was even more solitary than the two-block town, with no streetlights and no pavement, just darkness and loose gravel that peppered the bottom of the truck.

  The silence from the front seat didn’t help, either. She was half happy they weren’t pestering her with questions she couldn’t answer and half paranoid that they were scheming. She was locked in a vehicle with two men she didn’t know, yet one of them was the law. In most cases that would mean that she was perfectly safe. But Alan owned cops, too, and those men most definitely did not bring a sense of security.

  She wished the sun was still up so she could get a sense of her surroundings. Between the tint on the glass and the lack of ambient light, she couldn’t see much of anything but trees and ditches.

  Their speed finally decreased to a crawl, and they turned off the main road. The headlights outlined a long white fence bordering both sides of a wide lane. She dug her nails into the armrest and leaned toward the middle, trying to get a better look at the house at the end. While she wasn’t truly expecting to be taken to a dumpy shack next to a swamp, she was relieved that her mandatory stop for the night was a modern two-story house, with tall windows, a peaked roof, and a wide front porch fully illuminated in the warm glow of a host of lights.

  The truck pulled up along the front and stopped.

  Her stomach clenched. Was it too late to tell them she would be just fine spending the night on the park bench instead?

  The door beside her popped open, and she instinctively jerked back.

  If Marshall was surprised by her reaction, he didn’t show it. Instead, he calmly waited for her to make the release on the seat belt work, then reached for her hand to help her down. She stepped out slowly, scrunching her bare toes in the loose gravel. The jabbing poke of the cold stones against the bottom of her feet gave her something to think about other than her rolling stomach.

  When the sheriff joined them, she had to force herself to keep still and not take a step to the side. She was going to have to figure out how to calm her reaction every time he passed by, or he was going to start to wonder about her even more than he already was.

  He nodded toward the house. “Well, this is it.”

  She stared at the front door. It might look welcoming, but there was no way she wanted to go inside. Did the people inside even know she’d been promised a room? The sheriff hadn’t made any calls from the truck, so what was he going to do? Parade her in front of the owners and demand they take her in for the night?

  The two brothers exchanged a look. Neither spoke. After an awkward silence, the sheriff headed for the porch. She fully expected him to insist she follow, but he left her behind without looking back.

  Curious, she looked up at Marshall, but he wasn’t paying her any attention, either. He reached into front seat of the truck and pulled out the canvas shoes she’d left behind in the diner. She crushed them against the paper bag holding her muddy dress and hugged them both to her abdomen.

  The sheriff took the porch stairs two at a time. He opened the screen door without knocking and walked right inside. She wondered at the rudeness of entering someone’s house unannounced, then decided it must be another one of those small-town things.

  Marshall stayed beside her, matching her position with his back to the truck. Hiding behind her hair, she peeked up at him, half expecting him to be glaring at her, but he was looking at the house, paying her no mind at all.

  After a pause, he tipped his hat back and looked down at her. “It’s perfectly safe. You have my word.”

  He might be willing to make that kind of promise, but she wasn’t able to put any real trust in it. She searched for even the smallest hint of deceit or dishonesty in his eyes but couldn’t find any inkling he was being less than truthful. He believed what he was saying.

  If only she could, too.

  Over her shoulder, the white fence split the shadows like a slatted map to escape. But to where? There was nothing out there but darkness and the unknown. Here, at least she had the promise of a real bed for the night. A much better option than the park bench.

  The warm hue of the porch lights did make the house seem inviting. And the property was clean. Well kept. That had to count for something, right? Maybe the family would be nice—like Georgie had been. The sheriff wouldn’t have brought her to stay with someone who wasn’t trustworthy. At least she hoped that was the case.

  A chirruping meow drew her attention to the ground. A fluffy white cat appeared from beneath the truck and wound itself between her feet, tickling her bare legs with its tail. It flopped onto its side in the dirt and meowed at her, demanding her attention with the pompous attitude only a confident cat could pull off.

  Grabbing for any distraction that would keep her from having to make a decision, she hunched down and rolled her fingers through its silky soft fur.

  “Careful,” Marshall cautioned. “She looks all unassuming, but that’s usually right before she tears your skin off.”

  The cat blinked lazily, disagreeing with the warning.

  Enjoying the vibrating purr beneath her fingers, Emma’s indecision faded. The cat was soft and healthy and quite obviously a well-cared-for pet.

  It was as good a sign as any.

  She glanced at the front porch and the door leading into the unknown.

  One night. One short night. She’d sleep a few hours then be up and gone before they would think to look for her.

  Praying she was making the right choice, she rose to her feet and nodded at Marshall. “Okay.”

  He looked down at her bare feet and snorted. “Don’t you want to put the shoes on?”

  “I’m okay.”

  He dipped his chin and took a half step forward, delaying a full step until she joined him. The cat led the way while Marshall stayed at her side, adjusting his long gait to keep pace with her slower steps.

  The cat dashed up to the porch then sat down to stare at the closed door, its tail swishing dramatically back and forth as it waited for the humans to make it open. Marshall pulled the screen door wide, and it ran through.

  Seeing no other alternative, Emma followed the cat inside.

  Wood-paneled walls and a colorful country decor blurred as her attention was snatched away by a handsome older man with silver-streaked hair who was talking with the sheriff in the corner of a spacious living room.

  “And this must be Emma!” He greeted her with a warm smile. “I hear you’ve had quite the adventure.” />
  She bobbed her head, unsure how much of her story had been shared. Did he know he was volunteering his guest room? She glanced up at Marshall in uncertainty.

  “I’m sorry,” the older man said after an awkward moment of silence. “These boys lost their manners the day their mother passed, God rest her soul. No matter how hard I try, neither one of them has the common sense the good Lord gave a tree stump. Let’s try this ourselves, shall we?” He winked and extended his hand. “The name’s Hank Boyer. I believe you’ve already met my ill-mannered sons.”

  Emma let him pump her hand while she digested the words.

  Sons?

  The sheriff rolled his eyes. “Glowing introduction, Dad.”

  “Dad?” Emma repeated.

  “I’m not the one who should be giving introductions,” Hank scolded. “Now, go put Emma’s things into the spare room.”

  “I…I don’t have any things,” she stammered.

  “Well, sure you do.” He nodded at the shoes and paper bag, then held his hands out to take them. As soon as she handed them over, he thrust them at Marshall, then shooed the brothers out of the room with orders to stop pestering the “poor girl.”

  A pretty girl with long, ebony hair came into the room, struggling to keep hold of a folded blanket wider than her arms could grasp. “Hey, Grandpa, I’m almost done.” She stopped and smiled. “Hi! Are you Emma? Wow, your eyes are really pretty!”

  “I…uh. Thank you?” Emma answered.

  “Emma, I’d like you to meet Danny’s daughter, Lucy.” Hank dropped his arm around his granddaughter’s shoulder and kissed the side of her head. “Give her an opening and she’ll talk your ears off.”

  “Grandpa!” Lucy rolled her eyes. “Really?”

  “Really. Now take Emma upstairs and get her settled in. And none of that yikki-yakking. She needs to rest, hear?”

  “Yes, sir. Come on, Emma. I’ll show you your room.”

  In the wake of the young girl’s happy energy, Emma followed her to the second floor. She slid her hand up the cool wooden railing, her trepidation soothed by the sense of calm and peace that flowed within the walls. The soft yellow lights reflected on the glass frames of the photos of family and friends who smiled at her as she passed.