by Amanda Tru
Maybe because she’d been so busy talking about herself.
Josh knew everything about Cosette’s childhood. He knew about the truck stop her great-uncle Bob owned. He knew about how Bob would pay Cosette in quarters to sweep the floors and fill the salt shakers, and she’d save up her quarters to take her cousins to the only movie theater in town. They had to ride their bikes six miles one way to get there, but the shows were always worth it.
He knew about the jerk who dumped her the night before their junior prom, knew about how Cosette cried and nearly became anorexic when her best friend started a rumor calling her a fat hog. He knew about the night Great-Uncle Bob died, about how hard his death hit everyone in the family.
About how her father tried and failed to keep the dilapidated truck stop open.
About how her mother bled her inheritance dry to pour cash into a hemorrhaging business.
About how her parents fought so much about money and were near the brink of divorce before her dad’s near-fatal heart attack helped everyone in the family gain more grace and perspective.
And here she was, surprised to learn for the first time that he hadn’t grown up in Glennallen. In fact, other than mentioning spending time with his nephews and nieces, he never talked about his family at all.
You don’t even know him, Mom had warned. How do you know he is who he says he is?
“Hey, you got quiet,” Josh said.
Cosette snapped herself out of her cacophony of thoughts, of questions, of unnamed fears.
“Sorry.”
“You are tired, aren’t you? Do you want to take a nap? It’s still a long time before we’re even close to home.”
A nap? Yes. She wanted to take a nap. Except she couldn’t.
“I’m all right,” she assured him. She rubbed her eyes. She didn’t usually suffer from motion sickness, but now she was beginning to feel queasy. Josh’s truck seemed to accentuate each and every bump in the road.
For a minute, she was afraid she was going to be sick.
You don’t even know him. Mom’s words pierced the black, silent night.
How do you know he’s who he says he is?
How do you know…
How do you know…
“Tell me what you were like as a kid,” Cosette blurted out. Anything to get her mind distracted.
“Honestly? I don’t remember too much of my childhood.”
“Oh.” Was he being evasive, or was that the truth?
“What about high school?” she prodded. “What were you like as a teenager?” She still couldn’t believe how little she knew about his past. Had she been naïve to think she could fall in love with someone so quickly? What had there been to base her emotions on?
Maybe her mom had been right.
Maybe Cosette didn’t know this man at all.
She waited for Josh to answer, aware that her heart was racing faster with each passing moment of silence.
“Listen,” he finally said, “there are some things I haven’t told you yet.”
Now Cosette guessed that it was her hand that was growing clammy. “What kind of things?” she managed to ask.
“I’d rather talk about it later. The roads are terrible. I need to focus.”
She didn’t know what to say. Josh’s headlights illuminated a sign. They were already ten miles out of Anchorage.
Was she really doing this? Was she really headed out in one of Alaska’s worst snowstorms to travel two hundred miles to spend the weekend with someone she’d only known in person for a couple hours?
Was she ready?
With each accelerated pounding of her heart in her chest, she heard her mother’s words.
You don’t even know him, Cosette. How do you know he’s who he says he is?
She tried to recreate the euphoric bliss she’d felt back at Dottie’s diner; tried to remind herself how long ago she’d fallen in love with Josh. The real Josh.
So what if he didn’t have great childhood stories to recount? So what if he had things in his past he didn’t like to talk about? That didn’t change the fact that she knew him. She knew him, she loved him, and most importantly, she trusted him.
Didn’t she?
A light blinked on Josh’s dashboard. Cosette was already anxious enough that the tiny sound sent a mini-surge of adrenaline racing through her body. “What’s that?”
“Low gas?” Josh let out an exasperated huff. “Doesn’t make any sense. I filled up when I first got to town.”
He flipped on his turn signal.
Cosette gripped the handle of the passenger side door. “What are you doing?”
“Got to turn around,” he answered. “I need to fill up, or we’re going to be…”
His dashboard light flickered and beeped at them again.
“I don’t know what happened.”
Cosette didn’t let go of her grip on the door. Okay. If he was going to get gas, that gave her a little more time to think. Time to text her parents. She hadn’t even let her mom or dad know where she was.
She’d get out to use the bathroom when he stopped to fill his tank. Now that she was thinking about it, she wasn’t feeling too great anyway. Must have been all that high-carb food from the diner.
A bathroom break was just what she needed. Not only so she’d feel better physically, but so she could take a step back and decide what to do. Maybe spending the night at his brother’s in Anchorage wasn’t a bad idea after all. It was safer than driving all the way out to some half-deserted town, right? Maybe that’s what she’d ask him to do. She just had to think, but thinking was hard with this piercing headache. When had her temples started to throb?
“Are you okay?” Josh asked as he exited the highway.
“Yeah.” She tried to come up with more of a reply, but her mind had fallen completely blank. She’d been worried about something. What was it, again?
“Listen, I’m sorry about when you asked about my past. It’s… well, it’s complicated. I didn’t want to bring it up until later, but there’s something I need to tell you. There was this girl…”
Cosette wanted to tell him to stop. Wanted to ask him to pull over. She was feeling sick. What was this? Was her body giving her warning signals?
Get out, Cosette. Get out now.
What had her mom said about God always protecting her? Cosette couldn’t remember.
Why couldn’t she remember?
Why couldn’t she think?
“… really hard time for me…” Josh was saying, but his words just sent the confusion and chaos swirling around even more turbulently in Cosette’s troubled mind.
“… had no idea what happened until it was too late…”
She couldn’t listen. Couldn’t focus. Couldn’t think.
What was wrong with her?
“… wasn’t trying to keep it from you… just thought it might be best to tell you in person… change how you feel about the weekend… long time ago… different person now… I promise…”
His words spun in and out of focus. Why couldn’t she keep the meaning of them in her head?
“Cosette?”
She thought she answered him, but then he repeated her name again.
“Cosette?”
“Yeah?” What was wrong with her? Her feet were freezing, but the rest of her body felt like it was ready to burn up.
“Cosette!”
The sound startled her. Why was he yelling like that? Why did he act like he was mad at her?
“I don’t know,” she said, trying to remember if there was a question she was supposed to answer. “Whatever you think’s best.”
“Are you okay? You’re acting strange.”
“Are we already there?” She stared out the truck’s windshield, trying to remember why they weren’t moving. Had she fallen asleep on the drive?
“Cosette?”
She knew there was some reason why it was so dark, and then realized her eyes were shut. When she opened them, the only thing sh
e could see were a few lights on Josh’s dashboard. “Where are we?”
“Getting gas,” he told her. “Did you hear a word I just said to you?”
He was mad at her. She’d done something wrong. She couldn’t remember what it was. All she knew was that she’d made him angry.
“I’m sorry…”
“Sorry for what? Cosette, why are you acting like this? It’s like you’re…”
She didn’t hear his last words. A tsunami of nausea and dizzying sickness crashed around her. She had time to open her door and vomit onto the snow.
“Cosette!”
“I’m sorry.” She wanted to cry. She hadn’t been trying to make him angry. This was supposed to be their first day together, their perfect first day together, and she’d made him angry.
“What are you doing? Get back in the truck.”
“I’m still in the truck,” she explained, except then she realized that she wasn’t. Her feet slipped on something, and before she knew it she was lying in an ocean of cold.
“What’s the matter?” Josh was kneeling down beside her.
“Careful,” she wanted to tell him. Did he know she’d just thrown up right there?
His hand was on her forehead. “You’re burning up. What’s wrong? Are you sick? Was it what I said?”
She felt her stomach wrench, and she tried to roll over so she could throw up again. She was gagging, choking on her own vomit. The force of her heaves was so great she thought she might have wet her pants. Or maybe that was the melting snow.
She had to roll over. Had to sit up or at least prop herself up somehow, but she didn’t have the energy. Her brain had lost connection to the rest of her body. She could no longer tell her limbs what to do.
Hot liquid pooled around her legs, and she knew that now it was more than just the melted snow. Something was wrong. She had to tell Josh. Where had he gone? She heard his voice but couldn’t see him. Josh, are you there? I think I’m sick. I think something’s happening to me. I think…
She heard a scream. Was it hers? Piercing pain. Was that her own body or someone else’s?
Yelling. Someone above her. A faceless danger.
Falling.
Pain.
And cold.
Then total blackness.
How do you know you’ll be safe?
The words echoed, swirling around and around in Cosette’s mind as strangers swarmed around her.
“Blood pressure’s dropping.”
“Get me 10 cc’s.”
“We need to get that heart rate steady.”
“Out of the way. Coming through.”
He lives in the most remote part of Alaska. She could hear her mom’s voice above the cacophony of a wailing siren. Remotest part of Alaska… Remotest part of Alaska.
She tried to argue, tried to tell her Mom she was still in the city, still in Anchorage. She was fine. Josh knew first aid. Even saved a woman’s life on the highway just today. That had been today, right? Or had she just dreamed that? Josh said there was some kind of accident…
“… have that crash cart ready.”
You won’t have anybody to help you if something goes wrong.
That’s what Mom had been worried about. Or at least one of the things… There had been something else, too. What else had she said?
God will always be there to protect you.
Cosette remembered her mom stating that clearly. Or had it been her dad? Either way, she knew it was true. God was with her. God wouldn’t abandon her. God would keep her safe.
“Get her levels back up.”
Cosette still couldn’t quite remember what happened. Had she made it to Alaska after all? Or was she still on the airplane? What if something had happened to her flight? What if they’d crashed…
If you put yourself deliberately in danger like this, what can you expect God to do?
Wait, what danger had Mom been talking about? She was worried that Josh would turn into some kind of ax murderer and chop her up and keep her body parts in his freezer. Isn’t that what she was so scared about?
There was something else, though. Something she had forgotten.
It wasn’t an ax. It was something else. What was it? Think Cosette.
A knife. Slashes across the throat. A girlfriend getting slain. A man acquitted of all charges.
Except that was someone else. Another man. Another warning. Another person.
Not Josh at all.
What had that nice lady at the diner said? I know God has great gifts in store for the both of you. And something else, too. Something about prayer. About knowing, about seeing… Seeing what? What did she know?
God has great gifts in store for the both of you. Cosette wanted to believe it. Wanted to believe that what the waitress said was true. But there was something off. Something wrong.
The sound of sirens still pierced her ears. Had Josh gotten them pulled over?
Pull over, she wanted to tell him. Pull over.
She opened her eyes.
“Stabilizing,” someone shouted.
She blinked.
“Blood pressure’s up,” another announced.
“Careful.” The vehicle took a sharp turn. The paramedics surrounding her braced themselves so they didn’t fall.
“Where is he?” Cosette asked. Something wasn’t right. There was something these people hadn’t told her. She wasn’t supposed to be here at all. “Where is he?” she repeated.
“Who? Did you see who did this to you?” A kind face was staring down at her. For a moment, she thought it was the waitress from the restaurant, but then she realized this woman was quite a bit younger.
“Did you see your attacker?” she asked.
Attacker? That was the problem. That’s what they didn’t understand. It wasn’t that. She was sick. She got a fever… disoriented… At one point she wet herself.
Where was Josh?
“… lost a lot of blood,” the woman was explaining.
Cosette listened to the words as if through a fog. A cloud of confusion.
They were wrong. There wasn’t any attack. She threw up. She got sick…
“Where’s Josh?” Her voice was hoarse. Had she been screaming?
Her clothes were wet. Was it from when she fell in the snow? Then why did she feel so warm?
She touched her shirt, except it wasn’t her shirt. It was some kind of sheet. It wasn’t hers.
“Where are my clothes?”
“… put them into evidence,” a woman was explaining. Cosette could only hear a fraction of her words. “… covered in blood.”
No, no, no, no.
They were telling the story wrong.
“… Attacked at a gas station,” the woman said.
No, no, no, no.
“Lucky to survive…”
No, not lucky. Blessed.
Isn’t that what her mom would say if she were here?
There was more. Something about stab wounds. A knife. Blood loss.
Cosette didn’t care about that. She only cared about one thing. “Where is Josh?”
“Shh,” the paramedic said, putting her hand on Cosette’s shoulder as if she were afraid Cosette was about to jump off her gurney and dive out of a moving ambulance. “Don’t worry. The police are out looking for him right now. Whoever did this to you, they’re going to catch him. It’s okay. You’re safe now. Everything’s going to be fine.”
“Are you awake?”
Cosette opened her dry eyes and blinked until she managed to focus her vision on a nurse in bright purple scrubs standing by her bedside.
“Cosette? There’s a detective here to ask you a few questions. Can she come in?”
Detective?
Questions?
She didn’t even know where she was.
The nurse didn’t stick around to wait for Cosette’s answer. A moment later, Cosette’s dry eyes were now blinking up at the unsmiling face of a large, imposing woman wielding a clipboard that looked twice
as big as any other clipboard Cosette had ever seen in her life.
“Miss Hitz, I’m Detective Grace. I’m here to ask you what you remember about your attack last night at the Shell station on Denali Boulevard.”
“What?” Cosette’s voice came out hoarse. She felt like she needed to cough, but she couldn’t.
“I’m Detective Grace,” she repeated, as if Cosette had failed to appreciate her introduction the first time she delivered it. “I’m here to ask you about what happened last night at the Shell station on Denali Boulevard.”
“I don’t know,” Cosette stammered.
“You were attacked,” the detective explained. “And whoever did this to you also took out the security camera. We’re trying to check the backup system, but for the moment, you’re the only one who can point us in the right direction. Did you know your assailant?”
“I felt sick…” Cosette began.
“You had drugs in your system,” Grace stated dryly. “Presumably, you were drugged then attacked outside a gas station. Can you remember anything?”
Cosette didn’t know what to say. She had far too many questions of her own. She should be the one interrogating the detective, not the other way around.
“Do you remember how you got to the gas station?” the woman asked. Cosette strained to hear if she could detect a hint of sympathy or gentleness in her voice.
“Josh drove me there. He needed to fill up.”
Grace paused with her pen hovering over her clipboard. “Josh, who? Is he from Anchorage? What’s he look like? How well do you know him?”
She was firing off too many questions. Far too many for Cosette to answer in any logical order.
“He’s from a place called Glennallen. He’s going to drive me there. He was… we were… Is he okay?”
Grace tapped her pen on the metal clip of her board and pouted her lips. “Miss Hitz, I have no knowledge of anyone named Josh anywhere near where you were tonight. A nurse found you when she went to fill up her tank on the way to her night shift. You’re lucky she knew first aid. You’d already lost a significant amount of blood.”
“I threw up,” Cosette began. “I…” She tried hard to remember. “I must have passed out.”
“You passed out,” Grace confirmed, “because someone stabbed you fifteen times.”