“Well, actually,” Zoe said, concentrating hard on removing her tea bag and placing it carefully in a saucer, “that was me, too. Before.”
“Really.” Stan leaned against the counter, crossed his arms in his heavy flannel shirt, and looked at her. “Both times?”
“Quite the coincidence, I guess. Or I’m a bad driver,” she added with a self-conscious laugh. “I can hear you thinking it. It’s a little more complicated than that, though. At least I think it is.” She put a hand to her head, which was aching a little.
Raylene saw it. “Don’t go quizzing her right now, Stan,” she told her husband. “She’s not up to it. Time enough when Cal comes back. Not that much of a coincidence, either,” she told Zoe. “Cal’s driving that stretch a good ten times a day. Lucky for you he was there, that’s all.”
“He call about her car yet?” Stan asked, keeping to the point. “Or could be he’s pulling it out now.”
“No,” Zoe said. “I mean, he said he’d call once we got here. It’s . . . really stuck.”
Stan nodded. “I could make that call, anyway. Where did it happen?”
“Um . . .” Zoe shook her head in confusion. “I’m sorry. I don’t know. The . . . other way, I guess. I mean, I was coming back from Union City, and Cal was coming the other way, and he didn’t turn around, so . . .” She stopped, feeling like an idiot. “I’m sorry. I was a little shaken up.”
“North,” he decided. “About how many miles from here?”
“I don’t know that, either,” Zoe admitted. Because she didn’t. Had Cal driven for five minutes? Ten? More? She couldn’t have said. “I’m sorry. I don’t know. I should have called Triple A right away, but I was . . .” Terrified.
Raylene was rubbing olive oil over the potatoes, putting them on a cookie sheet, and sticking them into the oven. “Of course you were,” she said. “Never mind. Cal will know. He’ll take care of it. You just drink your tea and don’t worry about it. And nothing needs to happen now,” she told Stan, who had opened his mouth. “Nothing at all. You always want to do something, but you know, sometimes nothing at all has to happen right now.”
Which was why she was still sitting there when Cal showed up again. She heard the front door open and close, and a minute later, he’d breezed into the room in his stockinged feet.
“Well, hey, Professor,” he said. “You’re looking a little more stout.”
“Professor?” his mother asked.
“Yeah.” He pulled a chair out, sat down next to her, and she felt a little better, a little steadier to have him there. “Dr. Santangelo here is a bona fide professor, up there at the university. And not what you’d think, looking at her pretty face. Not Renaissance poetry or something. Geological sciences. She’s an expert in hydrogeology, in fact. She’s got plans to tell me all about the water table under the farm. With diagrams. In color, even, with labels and arrows and all that. And a laser pointer.”
“Only if the price is right,” she said. She was smiling, even though she could tell that this was exactly why he was teasing her. That he was trying to cheer her up, shake her out of it.
“Sounds like you know her from more than pulling her out of the ditch,” Stan said.
“Yeah,” Cal said with a martyred sigh. “Kinda couldn’t help it, once I met her, because she made a play for me right from the start. I had to practically pull her off of me, tell her I wasn’t that kind of guy. But I’ve warmed up to her some since then. She’s about sweet-talked me around to her way of thinking. I’ll admit, I’m about to go for it, shy as I normally am. She’s just too hard to resist.”
“Cal,” his mother warned, but she was smiling.
Zoe couldn’t help it. She was laughing. “I didn’t impress him,” she told his parents, “when he pulled me out of the ditch the first time.”
“Tried to pay me, for one thing,” Cal said. “That was pretty flattering.”
“It wasn’t that I thought you were poor,” she tried to explain. “It was just that you went to all that trouble. I thought it was the right thing to do.”
“Nope,” Cal said. “But then, it takes a while to learn the cultural mores of a new society.”
“Cal,” his mother warned again, “you’re bad. We’re honestly not all that backward,” she told Zoe.
“I know that,” she hastened to say. “I mean, of course I don’t think that.”
“We’re a little scary, though,” Cal said. “Because Zoe thinks that this time around, when she went into the ditch, it wasn’t so simple. First time, she just hit black ice, spun out. But this time . . .” He looked at Zoe.
“There was somebody behind me,” Zoe said, the playfulness gone. “And he was chasing me. That’s why I skidded.”
“Chasing you?” Raylene looked shocked, and Zoe couldn’t blame her. She knew it sounded crazy.
“We should back up,” Cal said. “Because it’s complicated.”
“First, though,” Zoe said, “my car? Shouldn’t I do something about that? Call Triple A?”
“I already called,” Cal said. “Vern over at Vern’s Auto will come get it as soon as he can. Probably wait till morning, once the storm blows over and it’s light out. He’ll give you the special friends-and-family rate on the whole deal, because we had a talk, so don’t you worry about that.”
“A . . . talk? What kind of talk?” she asked in alarm. “I’m grateful that you called,” she hurried on at the look on his face. “Don’t get me wrong. But I have Triple A. That’s what it’s for. I can’t pay extra for towing.”
He sighed. “That’s the point. You won’t pay extra for towing.”
“But . . .” she began, then stopped, put her hand to her aching head again. “Look. You didn’t want me to pay you before, and I get that. I do. But I don’t want you to pay for me. So we’re clear. You didn’t do that, did you?”
“I didn’t pay the bill, no,” he said. “If you don’t like what I did, you can go on and rip me a new one tomorrow. I’ll put on my flame-retardant suit and everything. Just not tonight, all right? You’re not up to your usual standard right now, and it’d wear you right out. Besides, that car’s in a little bit of a tough spot. I wanted somebody who knew what he was doing to get it out of there. So I called the best guy I know, and I got you the best deal.”
“He is the best,” Stan assured her. “Cal’s right. Easy to damage a car, towing it wrong. Then you’re in a world of hurt, all kinds of expense.”
“Yeah, Dad,” Cal said, glowering at him. “Thanks. She doesn’t need to hear that.”
Zoe sighed, rubbed her forehead. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. That you stopped . . . I’m so grateful. You don’t know how much. It’s just . . .” She scrubbed at a nonexistent spot on the old-fashioned Formica dinette table with her fist, tried not to let it overwhelm her. The fear, and now the money. More money. And she didn’t have a car.
“Yeah,” Cal said, his voice gentle now. “I know what it was. That’s why the friends-and-family rate. I promise that you don’t have to dance with me again, or anything else, either, in exchange. Just a friend helping a friend. All right?”
She felt the tears rising, blinked them back with an effort. “All right,” she said. “But please. Ask me first. I mean, explain it to me first. Please.” She did her best to ignore the glance Raylene and Stan exchanged.
“Ah,” Cal said. “Too bossy again?”
“Well . . .” she admitted.
“What did I say,” Stan muttered. “Gets it from his mother.”
“Yeah, Dad,” Cal said. “I don’t think that’s the only place. I think there was basically no hope for me.”
“So my car,” Zoe said. “Do you think it’s bad?”
“I’m afraid you could have some damage there, yeah,” he said. “Hard to tell in the dark, but the way you hit, how hard you hit? It’s possible. Vern said h
e’ll try driving it when he gets it back to the shop, give me a call and let me know what he thinks. I’m guessing you won’t know for sure until he can get under it on Monday and take a better look.”
“That’s what I was afraid of.” She tried to shake it off. Worrying wouldn’t help. But she knew why she was worrying about money. Because worrying about what had happened was too frightening.
“She hit the ditch mighty hard,” Cal told his parents. “I came around the curve near Johnson’s and saw it happen. She spun out, did a doughnut, and went right over the snowbank, bottomed out on it, front end slammed into the culvert. Not so good.”
His words brought it all back to her. Spinning. Hurtling out of control. And the panic afterward, knowing he was out there, that he was coming, that running wouldn’t work, that her only hope was staying in the car, blowing the horn, praying for help. Scrabbling for something, anything, to defend herself. A pen. Anything. Remembering the samples she had on the floor of the passenger seat, and grabbing for one. Knowing she had to move fast, that she had to strike first, and fast, if he broke her window. Hoping she could do it. That it would be enough.
Raylene saw her distress. “Hey, now,” she said, coming down to sit beside her, reaching for her hand and squeezing it. “It’s okay. Scary, but all over now.”
“That’s it, though,” Zoe said. “I’m not sure it is. It’s . . . it’s pretty similar to something that happened to a student of mine. A young woman.”
After that, of course, she and Cal had to explain, with his mother looking increasingly shocked, his father increasingly grim.
“So Zoe got involved in all that,” Cal finished, “and then there was that follow-up piece in the Idahonian, too. They just did a story a couple weeks ago about campus sexual assault.”
“I saw it,” his mother said. “We were just talking about it at our last League of Women Voters meeting, in fact. It’s become quite the civil-rights issue, hasn’t it? There’s been such a sea change, almost overnight, it feels like, in how it’s being looked at, in how cases are being investigated, how aggressively they’re being pursued, although there’s still a long way to go. High time, too.”
“Yes,” Cal said. “We’re aware of the political angle, but thanks for the . . . update.” He stopped, mindful of his father’s warning glance. “Anyway, that maybe turned the heat up some. I don’t think Zoe’s made a lot of friends on campus these past weeks, and I’ve got to wonder if it could have gotten back to the guy. Sounds crazy, but on the other hand . . .”
“Somebody who’d do that,” his mother said, “he is crazy.”
“Or evil,” his father said.
“That’s all I can think,” Zoe said. “I know it sounds so paranoid,” she hurried on. “But I swear that I thought he was going to hit me. It felt like he was . . . playing with me. And then when I crashed . . .”
“He pulled in behind her,” Cal finished. “And I thought, well, good, somebody else is there. I pulled over, too, and he took off like a rabbit. Now, who would do that?”
“Could have been somebody who saw it happen, saw it wasn’t too bad, and took off again,” his father said. “Not that most folks around here would do that, not without even checking on the driver. But who knows? Some people.”
“I don’t think so,” Zoe said. “I think he was chasing me, and that Cal scared him off.”
His father was looking at Cal again, his gaze serious. “You’d better call the sheriff’s office,” he said. “Get them out here to talk to her. Just in case.”
“Yeah,” Cal said. “That’s what I’m thinking, too.”
“Here’s what I think we should do right now,” Raylene said. “Cal, you call Jim Lawson, tell him what happened, see if he can come on by later on, if he’s on duty. He’d be best.”
“Right,” Cal said. “You got his number?”
“I should have,” she said. “If not, I’ll call Vicki and get it. My cousin,” she explained to Zoe. “Her son’s a deputy.”
“Ah,” Zoe said. “I think I’ve met him. If it’s him, that’s going to make me less likely to be believed, though. Since I met him kind of . . . from the ditch. The last time. I mean, the first time.”
“Nope,” Cal said. “Because I was there, too, this time. He’ll believe you.”
“Must be nice,” Zoe muttered.
“What?” he asked, looking confused.
“To be that confident.” She realized what she’d said, where she was, and flushed a little with embarrassment. “Sorry,” she told Raylene. “That was kind of rude. I mean, to your son and all, in your house.”
Raylene was smiling, though, looking at Stan. “Oh, honey, no. That’s music to a mother’s ears.”
“Hey,” Cal said.
“Never mind,” his mother said. “You go on and call Jim. I’ll get dinner on the table, and Zoe here . . .” She eyed Zoe.
“She’d better stay here tonight,” Stan said. “Until we can talk to Jim, get this figured out.”
“You’re right,” his wife said before Zoe could answer. “After dinner, you can have a bath, get changed, get out of that suit. Get yourself relaxed before you have to go through all this again. Because I think you should stay here tonight anyway. Who knows how long it’ll take Jim or whoever to show up, and if there really is somebody out there looking for you, we’re none of us going to feel good about you going home to an empty apartment.”
“I can’t do that,” Zoe protested.
“And why not?” Raylene demanded.
“Because . . .” Zoe cast about for a reason. “Because I don’t have anything to wear,” she realized. “And I can’t put you out like that.”
“Of course you can,” Raylene said. “I wouldn’t get a lick of sleep tonight otherwise, worrying about you. And I’ll get you something to wear, too. You’re not so different size-wise from me, just a little shorter.”
A lot shorter, but not that different otherwise, it was true.
“As long as it’s not a turtleneck,” Cal said, eyeing his mother.
“Why not?” Zoe asked. “Your mom looks fine. She looks nice. And warm, too. What on earth is wrong with a turtleneck? I just can’t wait to hear.”
“I’ve looked at you in that suit way too often,” he said. “And a turtleneck . . . no. That’s just going from bad to worse.”
“What a shame, then,” his mother said, “that it isn’t all about you.”
“Nope,” Stan said. “It’s about me. And I like you in a turtleneck,” he told his wife. “So you know.”
“You just like me in sweaters,” she said.
“Well, yeah,” he said with a grin that was surely the original of his son’s. “Always have, and I’m happy to admit it. I do love the way you look in a sweater.”
“Annnddd . . . an image I did not need,” Cal said.
“You’re the one who brought it up,” his mother pointed out. “Like what I wear is one bit your concern. Here’s a real hot news flash for you. And not the menopausal kind, either. Your generation didn’t invent sex.”
Cal laid his forehead on the table, banged it against the hard surface. “Make the hurting stop,” he moaned.
His mother laughed and swatted the back of his head so his forehead hit the table again.
“Ow,” he complained, sitting up and rubbing the spot.
“Quit being so silly,” she ordered, “and call Jim. Zoe, you come help me set this table. You’ll be a whole lot calmer, be able to explain yourself a whole lot better, with a good hot dinner in you.”
It was like she’d been taken over by the Decisive People, and resistance was clearly futile. Which was why, when the burly, reassuring figure of Jim Lawson was sitting around the kitchen table with all of them a couple of hours later, she was wearing a pair of too-long pants with the legs rolled up and a red sweater.
“V-neck,�
� Raylene had said, pulling it out of a dresser drawer. “Although if you don’t want to look pretty for Cal, you just let me know. I’ve got a real ugly beige turtleneck I bought during some sort of lunatic moment in an after-Christmas sale last year. You say the word and I’ll haul that sucker out, because it’ll do my heart good to hear him whine about it.”
“No, thanks.” Zoe hadn’t been able to keep from laughing, because she had felt a whole lot better after a hot dinner and, yes, a hot bath, too, after being showed into a tidy guest room, knowing she didn’t have to go home tonight, that for now, at least, she was safe and warm and being looked after. It wasn’t a feeling she was used to, but she’d take it. For tonight.
Now, she sat beside Cal in her borrowed clothes and did her best to explain the circumstances of the night in some kind of lucid fashion.
“So you saw whoever was behind her, too,” Jim asked Cal when she’d finished. “Get any impression?”
“Ford F-150,” Cal said. “Single-cab. Dark, because I’d have noticed if it had been white.”
“How do you know what kind it was?” Zoe asked. “In the dark? In a storm?”
Both men looked at her with surprise. “Headlights,” Cal said, like it was obvious.
“Uh . . . don’t they all have headlights?”
“Not the same shape,” Cal said.
“Well, that’s good,” Zoe said. “Right?” she asked Jim. “If we know the model?”
“Would be,” Jim said, “if that wasn’t the best-selling truck in the country, and the rig that about half the male population of this county’s driving right now. But it’s a start. Occupants?” he asked Cal.
“Couldn’t tell you that, either. Too busy diving for the ditch.”
“He was that close?”
“Oh, yeah. He was hell-bent on getting out of there before I got close enough to see him, seemed to me. That’s the thing that’s got me convinced. That and that Dr. Zoe is actually a pretty levelheaded person, at least when her head’s actually level. When she’s not in a ditch.”
“Uh-huh,” Jim said. “Not much to go on, somebody following too close.”
Carry Me Home (Paradise, Idaho) Page 16