“When will we be there?”
“When we get there.”
Emory clutched the edge of the seat as he steered the pickup around another hairpin curve. The headlights had been their only source of light since the abrupt departure from the cabin. If there was a moon, the cloud cover obscured it completely.
They hadn’t passed a dwelling or structure of any kind. Nothing. It was as remote a road as she’d ever been on, and certainly the most hazardous. As feared, there were icy patches beneath the accumulation of snow, invisible until the truck lost traction.
As they took the turns, the headlights swept over unforgiving rock formations that rose straight up out of the narrow shoulder, some encrusted with ice where waterfalls had frozen. Where there weren’t rock formations there was forest. The massive tree trunks wouldn’t have yielded to a tank. Or, most terrifying of all, the lights cut into black nothingness. One skid and they could plunge over the edge into the void.
She wanted to shut her eyes so she wouldn’t see the hazards that threatened, but she didn’t dare because of the ridiculous assumption that strictly by her will to live she could help keep the truck on the road.
He’d told her that he was accustomed to these mountain roads with their curves and switchbacks, but he drove with single-mindedness, not nonchalance. His gloved hands gripped the steering wheel, his eyes never left the road.
Answers to her questions about the Floyd brothers had been brusque and monosyllabic, if he answered at all. She had stopped asking. Whatever had happened between him and his unkempt neighbors had prompted him to take her home, or at least to drop her somewhere so she could get home. That was all she cared about.
She told herself that was all she cared about.
“What are all the guns for?”
“What are guns usually for?”
“To shoot…things.”
He shrugged as though that’s all the debate the issue warranted.
“It’s dangerous to have them around. What if I’d accidentally shot you?”
“It would have been a miracle.”
“You’re a large target. At that range I couldn’t have missed.”
“Probably not, but there wasn’t a cartridge in it.”
“It wasn’t loaded?”
He came as close to smiling as he ever did. “Doc, a word of advice. If you aim at somebody with the intention of shooting him, make sure the weapon is locked and loaded, ready to fire. If you don’t intend to shoot him, don’t point the thing at him in the first place.”
“You sound like an expert on the subject.”
He didn’t say anything in response to that, nor did he say anything as he navigated the next series of switchbacks.
Finally, she asked. “How much farther?”
“A few miles.”
“Do you mind if I turn the heater up a bit?”
“Go ahead.”
Before leaving the cabin, he’d draped a coat of his over her, telling her that her running clothes wouldn’t be sufficient to ward off the cold. The coat swallowed her, of course, but she was grateful for it and pulled it more closely around her now.
“I really would be cold without your coat. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
She didn’t want to distract him with conversation, but she was desperate to know what lay in store. “Will you… What will you do?”
“When?”
“When we get there.”
“You’ll see.”
“Can’t you just tell me, so I’ll know what to expect?”
“It won’t be long now.”
Indeed, over the next half mile the steep grade leveled out and they began to pass houses. They were spaced widely apart, but they were the first signs of civilization she had seen in four days. Coming around a bend, the headlights caught a small city limit sign.
She turned to him with surprise. “This isn’t Drakeland.”
“No.”
“Is Drakeland farther on?”
“It’s in the other direction. This road doesn’t go there.”
“I thought you were taking me to Drakeland.”
“What made you think that?”
What had made her think that? He hadn’t told her that was their destination, but since it had been her starting point, she had assumed he would take her back there.
The town through which they were driving now barely qualified as such. It had two caution lights, one at each end of the narrow state road that bisected the town. On one side of it were a bank, a service station, and a double-wide serving as the US Post Office. A café, taxidermy, and general store were on the other side. All were closed for the night.
Emory had anticipated being returned to someplace with lights, activity, people. Batting down a flutter of panic, she asked, “Are you going to leave me here?”
“No.”
His terse response did little to assuage her misgiving.
At the second caution light he turned right, drove two blocks, then turned right again into an alley that ran along the back of a cluster of what appeared to be small businesses and offices.
“What are you doing? Where are we going? Are we meeting someone here?”
“We’re making a quick stop, that’s all.” He pulled up to the back door of a single-story brick structure, turned off the headlights, and cut the engine. “Sit tight for a sec.”
He got out and stepped around to the bed of the pickup. Looking through the rear window, she watched as he raised the lid of a tool box attached to the cab and took out a tire iron with a socket wrench at one end and a sharp, double-pronged hook at the other.
He carried it to the rear delivery door of the office. Before Emory could fully register what he intended to do, he’d done it. He used the tool to pop out the doorknob, including the entire locking mechanism, leaving a neat round hole in the metal.
He came back to the truck and returned the tire iron to the tool box, then opened the passenger door, unbuckled Emory’s seat belt, closed his hand around her biceps, and hauled her out.
“You’re up, Doc. Hustle.”
At first she’d been too dumbfounded to react. Now she did, frantically pulling against his grip on her arm. “What are you doing?”
“Breaking and entering.”
“Why?”
“To steal what’s inside.”
“Are you insane?”
“No.”
“You’re about to commit a felony!”
“Uh-huh.”
His reasonableness astonished her. It terrified her. Crazy people often appeared perfectly sane until they…weren’t. She wet her lips, took quick shallow breaths. “Listen, I’ll give you money. You know, you said I had gobs. I…I’ll give you all you want, just—”
“You think I’m after money? Jesus.”
The man who’d taken a tire iron to a locked door for the purpose of breaking in and stealing actually looked affronted.
“Then why in God’s name—”
“This is a doctor’s office.”
A new light dawned. “Drugs? You want drugs?”
He sighed and propelled her toward the door. “We haven’t got time for this bullshit.”
She dug her heels in. “I won’t be any part of this.” She swung at him with her free fist, but he dodged it. “Let go of me!”
“Quiet!” Gripping both her arms now, he looked around to see if her raised voice had roused anyone, but the alley remained dark except for a lone street light at the end of the alley, and somehow, impossibly, it beamed into his eyes as they bored into hers. “The girl in the pickup?”
“The F-Floyds’ sister?”
“She’s in a bad way and needs your help.”
“What’s wrong with her?”
“I’ll explain on the way back.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“We’re going back to help her.”
“I’m not going back.” She tried to push away from him and began struggling again.
“Emory.”
What stilled her wasn’t so much the little shake he gave her but the use of her name and the authority with which he spoke it. “We can stand here arguing and risk getting caught and going to jail, or—”
“You’d go to jail. Not me.”
“Or you can hold to your Hippocratic oath, get in there, and gather up what you’ll need to treat her.”
“I won’t commit a crime.”
“Not even for a good reason?”
“Nothing could compel me.”
“You’ll soon be eating those words.” He pulled her toward the door of the office. “You’re reputed to be a do-gooder. Here’s your chance to do some good.”