by Ava McCarthy
A blast of wind battered the car. Jodie clenched the wheel, kept her course steady, following the diffused, red blur of the Toyota’s rear lights. She checked her mirror. The black jeep had disappeared, and by now the Toyota was the only other car in sight. Jodie glanced at the line of shivering firs crammed along both sides of the road. Frontiers into dense, impenetrable forest. Like the primitive backwoods encroaching on Ethan’s house. Jodie shuddered.
The Toyota’s rear brake lights flared, and the car slowed. Jodie hung back, watched it make a careful turn into a laneway. She peered after it, saw its tail lights disappear through a gateway on the right. Jodie hesitated for a moment, then followed it up the laneway, cruising on past the gate, glimpsing a house half-buried under snowdrifts.
Jodie rounded a corner out of sight. The laneway looked deserted, no signs of life in the neighbouring houses. She pulled up near the kerb, letting the engine run. Switching it off would mean a decision. And she still wasn’t sure.
She debated the wisdom of getting out. Of walking through that gate and knocking on the door. Was she still just following some dubious link to Ethan? Or was she pursuing something else? Some longing for wholeness? What missing part of herself was she hoping to find, for God’s sake?
Jodie swore softly at herself. Then she killed the engine, grabbed her bag and the roll of paintings and climbed out of the car. The wind slapped snow into her face, stung her eyes. She snatched at her hood, pulling it tighter. The cold sliced deep into her lungs, freezing the breath inside her chest. She kept her head low, started back towards the gate. Across the road, another car door opened. She glanced over.
Black jeep.
Jodie felt a small hitch in her step. A twist in her gut. No idea why.
Then a man stepped out of the jeep’s passenger side. Solid, compact. Unrecognizable in hooded winter gear. Yet a familiar undertow pulled at Jodie, dragging the twist in her gut even tighter.
He stalked towards her. Blocked her path. Close enough now for Jodie to see his face.
Fleshy and dark. With watchful eyes.
Sheriff Zach Caruso.
30
‘Don’t look so surprised.’ Caruso levelled a gun at Jodie’s face. Her gut lurched. ‘You musta known we’d find you sooner or later.’
Jodie stared at the pistol. Felt the weight of her own weapon buried deep inside her bag. Snow burned her cheeks, froze on her eyelashes. Caruso shifted his stance, and had to yell to be heard over the thunderous wind.
‘Put your hands up where I can see them!’
Slowly, Jodie raised her arms, still holding Lily’s roll of paintings in one hand. Icy gusts battered into her, almost toppling her. Caruso gestured with his chin.
‘Toss the bag on the ground, far away from you.’ He nodded at the canvases. ‘And whatever that is, too.’
Jodie scoured her surroundings for someone to help, for some way out. But the laneway was deserted. Not that it mattered. All he had to do was pull out his badge. Fugitive under arrest, nothing to see here.
Caruso adjusted his sights on the gun. ‘Toss it!’
She dropped the roll of canvases to the ground, pitched her bag on top. Still hoping she might get to it. Her arms felt heavy as she raised them back up in the air.
Caruso motioned with the gun.
‘Now move over towards the jeep.’
His two-handed grip on the weapon looked solid, his boxy frame braced firm against the blizzard. But in spite of the snow, Caruso’s face was sweating. Jodie’s heart kicked up into high gear. He wasn’t here to take her into custody. He was out of his jurisdiction. No backup, no squad car. No official arrest.
‘Move!’
She edged towards the jeep. Recalled how Caruso had stepped out of the passenger side. Which meant he had a driver. Jodie squinted at the dark, tinted windows. Couldn’t see through them.
Small hairs rose on her skin. Whirlwinds of snow gusted around her, like white ghosts sweeping the terrain. She took a deep breath, called out over her shoulder,
‘Still doing Ethan’s dirty work for him, Zach?’
‘Just keep moving!’
‘Real estate fraud, falsifying evidence. And now what? Accessory to murder?’
Caruso didn’t answer. His footsteps crunched close behind her. The jeep was only a few yards away, and she peered at the driver’s side, looking for shadows. Icicles formed at the base of her spine. Whose face would she see?
The tide of snow swirled around her, stung her eyes. She half-turned her head back to Caruso.
‘How did you find me?’
‘You’re all over the news, people snitch. Now get over by the trunk.’
Jodie plodded on towards the rear of the jeep. Her arms were getting tired, and snow was leaking an icy trickle into her sleeves.
Something shifted in her peripheral vision. A stirring of the darkness inside the car. Jodie’s bones felt chilled. She swallowed, raised her voice.
‘That you in there, Ethan?’
For an instant, the screeching wind lulled. Caught its breath. The Arctic air almost crackled in the silence. Jodie squinted, made out a silhouette.
‘Come on, Ethan. Don’t you want to talk to me after all these years?’ She came to a halt at the rear of the jeep. ‘Or maybe I should call you Joshua Brown?’
She sensed Caruso falter behind her. Then the wind gathered up, surged to a roar, and the blow to her head came fast and hard and drove her spinning to the ground.
Something thrummed against Jodie’s cheek, buzzed along her frame.
An engine rumbling. Juddering through her. She felt herself sway, pitch from side to side.
She dragged her eyes open. Blinding pain lurched through her skull, reached down and swirled her gut. She let her eyelids close.
The pain staggered back and forth. Kept tempo with a background thump of wipers. Her shoulders ached, and she tried to move her arms, but her wrists jammed, pinched by metal. Her hands were cuffed behind her back.
Jodie opened her eyes. Stared at the roof. At the thick, snowy fir trees flashing past the windows. She was lying in the jeep’s trunk.
Her head swam. She explored with her legs, nudging them up against car-trunk clutter: maps, ropes, carpet remnants. Paper rustled near her feet. She frowned. Not paper. Something thicker. Sheets of canvas? Lily’s paintings. Caruso must have unrolled them to take a look.
Jodie slid her gaze to the front of the car. The rear seats were down, giving her an uninterrupted view of Caruso in the passenger side. Next to him, the driver was mostly obscured by the high, wide seat and the headrest shielding his face.
She craned her neck, and a surge of pain flooded her skull, dragged her under. She felt herself spinning. Sinking, drifting. Skimming consciousness, in and out.
Suddenly, Ethan’s face was hovering close to hers. Tender and passionate. The way he’d been when they’d first met. The air between them was heady, magnetic. She could feel it vibrate, drawing her into his orbit like a lodestone.
Then the air changed. Became dense and suffocating.
‘You’ve been seeing someone else, haven’t you, Jodie?’
Her lungs squeezed. She felt stifled, smothered. Ethan’s face was transforming, shape-shifting into something cruel. Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde.
‘If Mommy leaves, we can’t be a happy family any more, Abby.’
She tried to open her eyes, willed herself to resurface.
‘How do I even know that Abby’s my daughter?’
Jodie tried to scream, but no sound emerged. Ethan turned away, his features melting. But his hard eyes still watched her in the rear-view mirror. They were back in the Bentley, the night air fizzling, fireworks exploding, filling her brain with sparkling parachutes of light.
‘I warned you over and over … if you try to keep her from me, I’ll take her away … ’
Jodie couldn’t breathe. Open your eyes, Goddamnit!
‘I picked a pretty spot … The water wasn’t cold.’
Ethan
twisted back around in his seat to look at her. Jodie gasped. His face had changed again. So much older, more haggard. All the vibrancy leached out. His expression looked bleak. Numb, almost. As though he was trying hard not to feel any pain. Something in his inward-looking gaze reminded her of Lily. Self-loathing? He turned away, back to the road. To the thick wall of snow closing in on the jeep.
Back to the snow.
Jodie held her breath. Not sure if her eyes were open or closed. If Ethan was real.
His image blurred. Her head was still reeling. The jeep bumped her back and forth, tilting, rolling, until her brain staggered punch-drunk down into freefall, and her world tumbled end over end.
The bumping stopped. The engine idled, throbbing along her bones.
Jodie forced her eyes open. Her vision was still filmy. Behind her, the trunk door groaned on its hinges, and a vicious slash of cold air whipped into her like a blade.
Strong hands grabbed her, dragged her backwards out of the jeep, hauled her onto her feet, wrenching at her healing stab wound. Her legs buckled. Caruso hoisted her up, hustled her forwards. Jodie squinted. The whole world had plunged into a blinding whiteout. Shrieking wind screamed through her, and she staggered against it, hands still cuffed behind her back. Then Caruso shoved her face-first into the snow.
Jodie lay there, stunned. The cold scorched her cheeks like fire, numbing her against any pain from the fall. Behind her, the trunk door creaked and clunked and out of nowhere, her bag catapulted to the ground in front of her. Sheets of canvas tumbled after it, thrashed along by the gale.
‘Get up!’
Caruso wrenched at her arms, yanked her upright onto her knees. Jodie opened her mouth to scream, then felt the hard barrel of a gun press against her skull.
Caruso yelled over the banshee wind.
‘Don’t waste your breath! No one’s gonna hear you way out here.’
The cold squeezed tears from her eyes, clearing her vision. Faint shadows traced contours in the whiteness: tufts of undergrowth; fanned tips of conifer branches.
Jodie stared. Made out the flock of snow-laden trees. Heavy firs, soaring redwoods. Packed in, stretching back, closing in on all sides.
Dear Jesus. They’d driven her out into the wilderness.
Jodie’s whole body trembled. Her legs ached as she knelt there with her hands behind her back, Caruso’s gun pressed to her skull.
Execution-style.
She bowed her head, felt the numbness creep in and claim her shivering body. Cold desolation bled through her. A week ago, she’d craved death. Thought it would bring her closer to Abby. Now it was here. And all she felt was waste and regret.
The jeep revved up somewhere behind her. She sensed Caruso stiffen, felt the gun bore into her. She squeezed her eyes shut, saw her little girl’s face. Dark eyes, round cheeks.
‘The water wasn’t cold, she didn’t wake up once.’
Jodie’s heart pounded, fist-pumping warm blood into her veins. Her eyes flared open. She took a deep breath, twisted her head, screamed out over the wailing wind.
‘Ethan!’
The jeep’s engine idled behind her.
‘I know it’s you in there!’
Caruso jabbed the gun into her head. She winced. Screamed again.
‘You bastard, Ethan, I’ll see you in hell!’
Jodie was sobbing now, hot tears coursing down her cheeks, warming her face. The engine growled, revved a warning. Caruso swore. He dug the gun into her skull, thrust her head forward.
Click-snap.
Jodie flinched. Sweet Jesus. Her body went rigid, braced for the shot.
sweet jesus sweet jesus sweet jesus
Caruso tore at her wrists, ripped off the cuffs. Jodie’s head felt dazed. What the hell? His footsteps slushed away through the snow, and she whirled around in time to see him climb back into the jeep. The engine roared, tyres chirruping. Jodie clambered to her feet.
‘Ethan!’
The jeep took off. Jodie stared. They were leaving her here alive?
She staggered after them, not caring if they shot her, not caring as she scrambled and slid in the snow, screaming at the jeep, yelling at Ethan till her throat was blood-raw. Then the white blizzard swelled and closed in like a whirlpool and swallowed the jeep up.
31
Jodie opened her eyes, lifted her head off the ground.
Couldn’t remember falling.
Her body felt icy. The ground was deadly cold, and her temperature was plummeting.
Get up!
Slowly, she heaved herself onto her knees, shivering violently. A lasso of wind whipped at her face and she blocked it with her forearm, managed to drag up her hood, pull her scarf over her nose. She strained through the blizzard for sounds of the jeep.
Nothing.
Her heart knocked against her chest, and the shivers grew convulsive. Jesus, how long had she lain there?
Keep moving!
She dragged herself to her feet, knew she had to keep her circulation going. Snow slapped into her face, burned her eyes. Then she blinked, disoriented. The world had disappeared. No shapes, no shadows; no contrasts, no horizon. Just an eternal wall of white.
Jodie stretched out a hand in front of her. Could barely see it. She smothered a growing sense of panic, blindly groped her way forward. Felt as if someone had thrown a white hood over her head.
People got lost in their own front yards during a whiteout. Had to feel their way back, though their doors were only feet away.
The wind bludgeoned into her, an invisible force. She cast about with her arms, scrambling for a reference point. Out of nowhere, Momma Ruth’s voice drifted back to her.
‘Last woman who tried to escape died of exposure in the blizzards … ’
Jodie flailed around, desperate to connect with something.
‘ … Days later, they were still trying to thaw her out.’
Jodie’s breathing grew rapid, stoked up by a screaming rush of panic. She stood still. Took a deep breath. Made herself control it. Understood now why Caruso hadn’t pulled the trigger. He knew she’d freeze to death out here. No unexplained bullet wounds. No need for an investigation. Just another dumb fugitive who didn’t make it.
Jodie forced her legs to move. Baby steps. Left, right. Her muscles ached, contracting painfully in the cold.
Just find the trees, get some shelter.
She inched one foot in front of the other. Left, right. Left, right.
Then the ground gave way.
Her foot plunged through it, found only air.
Jodie screamed, lurched, fell backwards onto the ground. Snow whumped somewhere far below her, as though dumped from a great height.
Jesus Christ.
She stiffened, paralysed. The white blindness crowded in. Where to now? Backwards, forwards? Left, right? How could she tell the difference any more? How could she tell safe ground from the edge of a cliff?
Sweat flashed along her back, conducting precious heat away from her body. The cold crept closer to her bones.
Jodie struggled to her feet, her movements slow and laboured. By now, she’d lost all feeling in her toes, and her shivering was uncontrollable.
Nearby, something snapped back and forth in the wind. She squinted, sightless. Then she closed her eyes, shutting down her vision, channelling everything into the senses she had left.
The sound was coming from her right. She reached out, shuffled sideways. Something poked her gloved fingers. She grabbed, tugged, felt the heavy swing and give of a bush. Jodie opened her eyes, tugged again. Snow dropped away, exposing dark branches, the sudden contrast giving definition to the whiteness. Her eyes focused on the thorny shrub. And on the sheets of canvas snagged among its brambles.
Lily’s paintings.
Four sheets. Waterproof. Insulating.
Jodie snatched at the canvases, then hunched against the wind and stuffed them inside her jacket. She zipped up, patting the sheets in place around her chest. As a thermal layer,
it wasn’t much, but it might just help to brake her plunging temperature.
She hunkered down, the canvases crackling. What were the chances her bag was around here some place? She stretched out her arms, made wide breaststroke-sweeps, scuffling along in small steps until her fingers tipped something soft. The cushiony leather of a bag.
She hauled it towards her, fumbled with the zip, raked through its contents. No phone. No gun. No surprise.
But everything else was there. Money, fake passport, motel room key. Other handbag-clutter stuff. Caruso hadn’t wanted any of her belongings. Hadn’t wanted any incriminating links to her corpse when it was found.
Jodie zipped up the bag, tested its weight in her hand. Then she pulled herself upright, her limbs stiff and clumsy. She tossed the bag forward into the whiteout, holding onto it by the strap. It plopped onto snow, breaking up the camouflaged surface of the ground, temporarily splintering the illusion of blindness. She stepped up to the bag in one stride, then flung it again, repeating the process. Step, toss, step, toss. Revealing the ground a few feet at a time.
The wind ripped through her, and the shivers wracked her frame, a last-ditch attempt by her muscles to generate heat. Her head was starting to feel sluggish and woolly. She couldn’t even feel the throbbing in her stab wound any more.
Keep moving!
She summoned up Ethan’s face. Waited for the surge of hate that would stoke her forward.
It didn’t come.
Step, toss. Step, toss.
She gave up on Ethan and pictured Novak. Grizzly Adams, hunting down Joshua Browns from his cosy motel room. Would Ethan go after Novak too? Her chest turned over. She wished she’d listened to Novak. Wished she hadn’t slept alone the previous night. All those walls of self-protection. What use were they to her now?