As near as she could tell, she was four car lengths behind Helen and in the same lane of traffic.
A quarter of a mile behind Helen Ward and Julia Martin, a silver Nissan crossed driving lanes, the driver’s eyes on his gas gauge. He cursed ripely and violently when he tore his gaze away long enough to check the cars in the right lane.
“This is a dumb-ass move if ever there was one,” Sam muttered as he tore down the New Jersey Turnpike. “I’m driving blind with no destination in mind,” he continued to mutter. “Furthermore, it’s the height of stupidity. On the other hand, it could be a brilliant move.” He continued with his monologue as he smoked one cigarette after the other.
He’d tried calling the shelter, but there had been no answer. Maybe he should have gone there, but instead he’d opted for trying to think like Helen. The old man was probably right: Helen would be driving cross-country. If he had to guess the why of it, the only thing he could come up with was Helen wouldn’t subject the dogs to the cargo hold in a plane. They’d discussed it once, and she’d been adamant about not ever shipping a dog on a short or a long flight. He could still see the expression on her face if he closed his eyes. No, Helen would drive so the animals would be safe. Helen would put their safety first just the way she’d put his safety ahead of her own.
Sam cringed at the thought. He wished he knew what was in Helen’s mind. What did she hope to accomplish? Was she just going blindly and hoping for the best, or did she have plans to blow away her abusive husband at the first opportunity that presented itself?
Sam shivered at the thought, perspiration dotting his brow. If anyone was going to blow away the son of a bitch, it was going to be him.
He drove steadily, his eyes on the lookout for a hunter green Pathfinder and a silvery-looking car that could possibly be a Nissan, a Honda, or even a Ford of some sort. Thank God, the snow was abating. Visibility would be better.
Sam hunkered down for what he thought was going to be the trip of his life.
A light rain was falling when Helen turned off her headlights and hit the exit ramp at full throttle so her backup lights wouldn’t go on. The dogs needed to be walked, and she had to use the bathroom.
It was three-thirty in the morning when Helen’s car exited the turnpike and Julia Martin’s dark blue Honda continued down 1-95, as did the silver-colored Nissan.
The service area was almost deserted, with the exception of two truckers just getting into the cabs of their eighteen-wheelers. Helen walked both dogs, gave them water and biscuits before she settled them back into the Pathfinder. The gun in her jacket pocket, she looked around before she headed up the walkway to the brick building and the bathroom facilities. She was back in the car in less than seven minutes. She was breathing so hard she had to take great gasping breaths until she felt calm enough to start up the 4 x 4.
Sam Tolliver was five car lengths behind her when she inched her way onto the interstate.
Helen drove steadily for the next forty minutes. She slowed when she saw flashing blue-and-red lights ahead in the distance. A knot started to form in the pit of her stomach as she crawled forward, noticing that the flashing lights were northbound as well as southbound. Both dogs reared up on the backseat. Max growled ominously as Lucie cowered against him, whimpering. Was it an accident or a roadblock? More than likely an accident since the snow had turned to rain and the roads were starting to ice over. She heard an ear-piercing siren and then deafening noise directly overhead. A medivac helicopter? That alone had to mean the accident was serious and would tie up traffic for hours.
Helen eyed the median strip between the south and northbound lanes. She swerved without thinking, following a huge Dodge van, riding alongside it. Other cars followed suit. Within minutes she was driving north, her eyes peeled for an exit sign. It would be light in a few hours, and she could read the map and get her bearings then. The worst-case scenario would be to drive fifty or so miles out of her way until she could pick up the southbound interstate farther down the road.
Helen rummaged in her carry-bag for two rawhide chews that she tossed onto the backseat. “It’s just a temporary setback. Sit back and enjoy the ride. Be a good girl, Lucie,” she said lightly so the little dog wouldn’t pick up on her anxiety.
Helen settled herself more comfortably, her eyes alert for a silver car.
Julia Martin heard the crash behind her. She slowed and pulled over to the shoulder of the road and waited. She wasn’t sure why. Other cars ahead of her did the same thing. She was about to open the car door when a silver car streaked past her. She leaned her head back, her breathing ragged with fear. Her hand on the car door was frozen in place.
Somehow she’d lost Helen. She was almost certain the Pathfinder was no longer ahead of her. Helen wouldn’t risk driving fast in this weather with the dogs and the kind of credentials she was carrying. She must have stopped at the last rest stop. With visibility so bad, she hadn’t seen the Pathfinder turn off. Should she forge ahead or cross the median strip and hope for the best? She answered her own question in disgust. There was no point crossing into the northbound lane since the accident had shut down both lanes. The best she could do was to keep going, get off at the next exit, and wait by the entrance to 1-95, hoping she was right and Helen would get back on the highway. She wondered at what point the occupant of the silver car would come to the same conclusion she’d just come to.
Daniel Ward knew he was driving on little more than fumes when he slowed to get off at the first exit he saw. It was raining harder, and the temperature gauge inside the Nissan said it was thirty-six degrees outside. While he stared at the gauge it dropped to thirty-five.
Up ahead of him he saw the bright lights of a Texaco station at the same moment he saw a dark Pathfinder winding its way down the road. He cursed so loud he startled himself. He had no alternative but to head for the station and gas up. He wanted to put his fist through the pump when he saw that it was self-service.
Even though there was a roof of sorts over the row of six pumps, the rain drenched him in less than five minutes. He shivered violently. All he wanted to do was get in the car and go. He looked across the concrete apron and could see the cashier watching him. Did he dare drive away without paying? Should he get soaked to the skin by running to the cashier? The decision was made for him when a State Police cruiser rolled into the parking area.
Rain dripped down the inside of his collar and into his shoes. He hated cold feet. When your feet were cold and wet you caught a cold. At least that’s what Helen used to say. Helen said a lot of things. Most, if not all, were bullshit little ditties that he never paid any attention to. He paid for the gas and ordered a large coffee to go. He smiled at the trooper and made an inane comment about the weather. The trooper grunted as he ordered his own coffee.
Rather than go back outside so the trooper could see him get into the Nissan, Daniel looked around for the rest room. It would be better if the trooper left first. When he exited the rest room he was stunned to see the trooper sipping his coffee as he talked to the cashier. The Nissan was the only car in the lot. “Fuck,” he hissed as he shouldered his way through the door.
“Take it easy out there, sir. The roads are icing up.” Daniel raised his finger to show he heard the trooper’s words before he ran toward the car, the scalding coffee sloshing down his pant leg.
Daniel drove on until he saw the entrance to I-95. He stopped the car, debating with himself. Did Helen get back on the interstate or was she sticking to the secondary road? The old Helen would have stayed on the secondary road. The new Helen would be gutsy and go the interstate route. He’d whip this new Helen back into shape as soon as he got his hands on her. He risked a glance at the temperature gauge. It now read a degree lower than the last time he looked. “Goddamn pissy-ass car,” he seethed. He should be in one of the bigger rigs, like Helen. He wasn’t going to think about the accident back on 95. It could have been him. Too damn bad it wasn’t his fucking wife. All his problems would
have been solved. He shivered. Even though the heater was turned full blast, he felt cold and clammy. His feet were like blocks of ice. Helen would be warm and cozy inside the big rig she was driving. His shoulders started to shake with cold rage at the circumstances he found himself in. “I swear to God, Helen, you’re going to pay for this. I won’t tolerate this kind of behavior.”
He drove on, careful to stay in the same tracks the Ford Taurus and the cars ahead of him made. Slush was better than ice. Slower but safer.
He was nine cars behind the Pathfinder and the small blue Honda Civic driven by Julia Martin.
The moment Sam saw the flashing blue-and-red lights and the medivac helicopter, he knew he had to get off the highway. Without taking his foot off the gas pedal, he swerved to the left, crossed the median strip, and headed north. If it was a mistake, he would have to live with it. There was no way he could sit in traffic for hours. For all he knew, Helen could have done the same thing he was doing. Get off, follow the road, and watch for an entrance sign to I-95. It couldn’t be more than one town away. At the moment it seemed his only option.
Thirty minutes later he was back on the interstate, the accident miles behind him.
He cranked up the heater and wondered if he would die from all the smoke inside the Blazer. He opened the window. By God, when this was all over he was going to get one of those nicotine patches and quit smoking once and for all.
“Damn!” The single word exploded from his mouth like a gunshot when he saw the rain literally turn to snow in front of his eyes. His eyes started to water when he remembered past winters when he and Max romped in the snow. God, how he missed that dog. Helen wouldn’t let anything happen to Max. Max wouldn’t let anything happen to Helen. He smiled when he thought of the little fur ball named Lucie and how she liked to lick his face. It had taken the Yorkie a long time to warm up to him, and the day she finally let him pick her up was one of the highlights of his relationship with Helen. They were a family, goddamn it. No asshole wife beater was going to change that. Not if he had anything to say about it.
Ahead of him were pinpoints of red. Somehow, in his reverie, he’d let up on the gas pedal. He pressed downward, turned on his left-hand signal, and moved into the middle lane. It was impossible to see the cars on his right or his left. For all he knew he could be driving alongside Daniel Ward or Helen. He kept his gaze glued to the tiny red dots in front of him as he wondered where the hell he was.
24
Helen cracked the window a bit and was rewarded with a fine spray of snow. The dogs reared to attention as some of the snowflakes spiraled backward. “It’s okay,” Helen said soothingly. “I just need a little fresh air. I hate to tell you this, but I have no clue as to where we are at the moment.” A quick glance in the rearview mirror told her the dogs were listening intently to her voice. She risked another glance at the big Lab, who reacted to her soothing voice by lying down. She continued to watch as he moved one big paw to draw Lucie closer to him.
It would be light soon, at which point the world would turn white and dangerous. She needed to get off the interstate and head to safety. She hadn’t seen one of the green road signs for a long time. She worried that she might have missed it. She realized how tense she was, how very tired she’d become during the past hour. She wasn’t sure, but she thought she felt feverish. She did her best to convince herself that it was the heat in the car and the heavy jacket she was wearing that were making her feel sweaty and chilly at the same time.
Helen reached across the console for the second thermos. She settled it between her legs for a secure grip and unscrewed the top. It wasn’t hot, but it was still warm. She gulped at the strong brew. Afraid to take her eyes off the road in front of her, her hand snaked out again to her purse on the seat. She rummaged until she found the aspirin bottle. Somehow she managed to unscrew the cap and tilt the bottle to her lips. Capping the bottle wasn’t as easy as uncapping it, but she managed. She didn’t feel one bit better.
She saw it then, the huge green sign high overhead. She wondered what would happen if it fell from its cables. Probably kill everyone in its path, she decided. According to the giant sign, an exit was one mile down the road on the right. She slowed the Pathfinder until the lights ahead of her were pale pink blurs in the distance. She didn’t want to lose sight of the comforting lights entirely, so she increased the pressure on the accelerator. Her grip on the steering wheel was sweaty. Her neck and back felt stiff from sitting hunched over the wheel.
The outside world grew brighter and lighter. The snow was all about her. A world of whiteness. A deadly world of whiteness.
Helen pep-talked herself as she inched the Pathfinder along the clogged highway. This, Helen, is probably one of the stupidest things you’ve ever done in your life. Second only to marrying Daniel Ward.
He was out there. Probably close by. Would he follow her when she got off the exit? If he could see her, if he knew what kind of car she was driving, he would be right on her tail. It was also possible that he had kept on going when she stopped at the last rest stop. Maybe Lady Luck was on her side and he was ahead of her instead of behind her. Maybe those lights ahead of her were his. She shivered inside the warm vehicle.
Minutes later, Helen veered to the right just in time. She broke out in a sweat when she realized she’d almost missed the turnoff.
Snow surrounded her, but at least it was light out, the world a grayish white, making it impossible to distinguish the sky from the ground. She drove carefully, trying to follow the tracks in front of her. Her biggest fear was driving off an embankment. The ache between her shoulder blades intensified. Her eyes were dry and itchy from the heat in the Pathfinder. She thought it strange that she should feel parched since her hands were clammy with sweat.
She saw the motel, the gas station, and something called Truckers’ Haven through a gossamer veil of snow. “Thank you, God,” she murmured as she inched the Pathfinder to the cutoff that would lead her to the array of colored lights ahead. Her body was shaking badly when she turned off the engine in front of the motel. She had to close her eyes and take deep breaths until she felt calm enough to gather her purse and open the door. “I’ll be right back,” she said to the dogs.
The heat of the motel lobby slammed her in the face when the door closed behind her. Helen’s vision blurred when she read the small sign on the registration desk. “This is a child-and pet-friendly establishment.” She registered for two nights and paid cash along with a hundred-dollar deposit for any damage the dogs might do.
Helen jammed the key into her pocket. Her next stop was Truckers’ Haven, where she bought a container of piping hot vegetable soup, a large coffee for herself, and hamburgers for the dogs.
The last thing she did was walk the dogs through the hard-driving snow before heading to the sanctuary of the motel. She counted four cars in the parking area. None of them appeared to be silver. Later on, she would check the parking area again.
Inside the cozy room, she double-locked the door and towel-dried the dogs. She fed them slowly before she placed the Styrofoam takeout tray filled with water on the floor.
Helen ate every drop of the soup and crackers before she gulped down two more aspirins with the coffee. She turned on the television for noise and a small sense of normalcy as the dogs prowled and sniffed every inch of the strange room before they hopped onto the bed where they watched her expectantly.
She felt like she should do something. Maybe this was the time to call Sam to let him know she was all right. She should probably call Julia, too. Sam would be getting dressed for work, perhaps showering. Julia would be in the kitchen helping with breakfast. Both of them would be doing what they did every day of their lives.
Instead she headed for the bathroom. Perhaps she would feel better after a nice hot shower and a few hours of sleep.
Helen lingered under the hot shower until the water started to cool. Even though she’d turned up the thermostat, she shivered. Both dogs were panting wit
h the heat in the room. Shaking, she turned it down before she crawled between the sheets. The minute the dogs snuggled next to her, her trembling body relaxed. Her last conscious thought before falling asleep was to wonder how she would dig out the Pathfinder if the snow continued.
Helen opened her eyes. She knew in an instant where she was. The red numerals on the bedside clock said it was 3:10 in the afternoon which meant she’d slept almost eight hours. She felt better, less achy, and she could move her neck without pain. She dressed quickly so she could walk the dogs.
It was still snowing lightly. Helen gasped when she opened the door and snow blew into her motel room. Lucie whined and backed up, while Max strained at his leash to go forward. In her life, she’d never seen this much snow. She picked up Lucie, her grip on Max’s leash secure as she tried to avoid the deepest snow. Snowblowers whined and wheezed as the maintenance crew struggled to clear the parking lot.
“And here I am with no gloves, no shovel, and no boots,” Helen mumbled. She walked to the end of the building and around to the Dumpster, where Max lifted his leg and Lucie squatted.
On her way back to her room, Helen’s gaze searched out the parked cars. A sigh of relief escaped her lips when she realized there was no silver car in the lot. It was entirely possible such a car could be parked on the other side of the motel, but she wasn’t about to tramp through the knee-high snow to find out. She tapped one of the maintenance men on the back. “Is the interstate open?”
“Road crews have been out all day. Traffic is moving. It’s letting up some. If you aren’t in a hurry, I’d wait till morning.”
What You Wish For Page 27