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CHAPTER TWO
The man led Michelle away from the fire, in a direction she wasn’t familiar with. Iron Falls was the nearby town, small and seemingly friendly. Where her father lived was on the outskirts, still considered Iron Falls, yet void of human neighbors. Elk, bear, wolves, and foxes roamed these wooded acres and open fields.
As her circulation hastened, the pain in her feet intensified to the point that each step was agony. “Please, my feet.”
The man looked down at her reddened flesh, visible through moonlight. With a shake of his head, he scooped Michelle from the ground, cradling her against his chest as if she weighed nothing when she knew that wasn’t the case.
Those childish thoughts she’d entertained back at the site of the blaze returned. No longer a woman in her mid-twenties, Michelle was a child, cradled by her dad. She rested her face against the stranger’s soft hoodie as heat radiated from his chest, and the scent of burning wood filled her senses.
There was no reason to trust this man.
Were there reasons not to trust him?
In his embrace, as if in the eye of a storm, a sense of security filled Michelle’s being.
In his arms, she was carried.
How far did they travel?
How long had they been trekking through the snow?
Michelle was on the verge of being lulled to sleep, an escape perhaps, when in the distance, the sound of sirens rang through the cold night air.
“Fuck,” the man growled.
She lifted her head in search of the direction the loud wailing was coming from. While in her trance, once again, large snowflakes had begun to fall, landing on her eyelashes and cheeks. “Are those fire trucks?” she asked, the first question she’d posed since asking the identity of the man holding her.
“Probably. Sheriff cars too.”
She shook her head. “My dad…” Her words trailed away. With tears teetering on her lower lids, she looked to the man’s face. Even in the dark, she could make out his chiseled jawline, prominent cheekbones, and strong, pursed lips—the latter filled with determination. His strength, demonstrated by his ability to continue to carry her, was evident. Still, she wondered who he was. “Why are you helping me?”
“I won’t be helping you if they follow us.” He stopped walking.
Michelle realized they were at the shore of Iron Reservoir, the large body of water created by the Iron waterfalls. This time of year, the falls and reservoir froze solid. With the sun now on the horizon, she could make out dozens of small huts—fishing houses—out on the vast white ice.
“This wasn’t my plan,” he confessed as he stepped toward the frozen water.
“I need warmth,” Michelle admitted. “I can’t have that on ice.”
“You’d be surprised.”
The strength Michelle had mustered to flee the scene of her father’s murder was depleted. Her future was now in the hands of this stranger, whether she wanted to admit it or not. While that future was uncertain, if she’d stayed on the shore and froze or was found by Sheriff Perkins, she was certain there would be no future.
From the outside, the wooden hut looked too small to hold both Michelle and the man. However, after he wedged the door open enough for their entry, the inside was roomier than she’d imagined.
Gently, the man set Michelle on a wooden bench upon a wooden platform. Simply being out of the wind made the temperature within the hut seem downright comfortable. She took in the surroundings.
As the man lit a Coleman lantern, the flame within flickered, bringing illumination to the interior. There was only a small area of floor opened to the ice, a round hole drilled into the depths, partially refrozen over. The walls contained shelves filled with provisions including blankets.
The man reached for one of the heavy blankets and handed it to Michelle. “I want to look at your feet. There could be frostbite. First, get warm while I make us some coffee.”
Coffee.
Really?
Did he think this was a date?
Oh, instead of Starbucks, let’s have coffee in a fishing shed set over ice that’s two feet deep.
