Chapter
One
EMMA
The wind howls around my car. I inch my way off the interstate and down the exit ramp. The snowstorm that was predicted to hit the Maine coastline arrived earlier than expected, leaving me caught out in the open.
I’d asked my boss at the diner to let me get off work sooner, but he wouldn’t. He said we’d be out a chunk of income anyway in the following days as everyone hunkered down to weather the storm, so he wanted to draw what he could from today’s evening crowd.
Crap.
Andy’s greed might be my undoing tonight. The asshole only had to cross the street to get to his apartment, while I had to drive an hour and a half down the interstate to reach the small town where I’d managed to get a cheap rental that allowed me to put some of my money aside for savings.
But I might not reach Clearwater tonight, not in this weather. It’s a forty-five-minute drive from the interstate in good weather. Today, even that could prove too much. Already, my car is skidding on the road, despite the fact that I’d hadsnow tires put on. I’m not dumb. I knew that weather like this was a possibility. But now I’ll have to put on my snow chains and I need a safe space to do it, or else I’ll get clipped by one of the other drivers still trying to maneuver this storm with shit visibility and several inches of fluffy snow already on the ground.
Then I could attempt to get back home. Maybe. Or I might be forced to seek shelter close by. But in rural Maine, surrounded by deep spruce forests on both sides of the road, there aren’t many options.
I shiver despite my thick winter parka and squint through the windshield, trying to see past the wipers and the splatters of snowflakes.
There.
A quick look in the rearview mirror tells me I’m alone on the road, but I put on my indicator anyway and slowly roll to a stop by the side of the road. I know stopping is dangerous. I might get stuck here. But driving on the slick road will land me in a ditch, which is much worse.
I drag on my knit wool hat and mittens, take a bracing breath, and throw open the door.
It’s Inferno out there. I’m fully convinced that Hell is frozen over, because nothing warm could ever feel as awful as this. The wind whips around me with brutal force, sending a flurry of snowflakes into my face. I narrow my eyes against the prickle of the ice crystals and grit my teeth, then march around the car to the trunk where I’d put my snow chains.
I even practiced putting them on. I’m a woman living alone in a state that gets hit with bad weather on the regular—of course I checked up on how to survive in a freaking snowstorm. But putting on the chains on a nice fall afternoon in my driveway was easy. I’d slipped them around the tires, moved the car a couple of inches, and secured the clasps. I’d been so proud of myself, too, for being prepared.
The reality of this situation hits me hard. The chains flop into the snow with a chink of metal, and I fumble with my mittens to pick them up again. I realize within a minute I won’t accomplish anything with my gloves on, so I tug them off. That’s when the real torture starts. My skin stings from the cold, and the wet clasps are damn difficult to maneuver. I try to get the first one on, and it slides right back down into the snow. My fingers are red, and I can’t even see properly despite having left the headlights on and holding the flashlight between my teeth.
The chain slips yet again, and a sob tears itself from my throat. I didn’t account for nature setting itself against me. I should have, though. I should have known nothing about this would be easy. Why would it be? Nothing in life ever is, not for me.
I wallow in pity for a minute, staring dejectedly at the tire. Then I give myself a mental slap and try again, determined to make it work. I can do this.
When I manage to fasten the first chain to the front-left wheel, a sense of triumph washes over me, even though my hands are numb and I still have to put the chain on the other side and make it back home all in one piece. But I don’t allow myself to panic about what lies ahead.One thing at a time, Emma.
The rumble of a car engine cuts through the sound of the rushing wind. I lift my head from where I’m kneeling in the snow, trying to get the second tire fixed.
Instinctive fear squeezes my chest. I’m alone in a blizzard by the side of the road. A cautionary tale. Instead of rising to my feet and looking over the car hood, I stay down and fish my phone from my pocket just in case. Maybe the car will just pass by and let me be.
The headlights pan over the other side of my car, throwing a deeper shadow on me. I think for a moment that the driver has decided to move past me, but then the truck stops right next tomine. From the sound of it, it’s about three times the size of my small Kia, and for some reason, that has me cringing away from it even further.
If everything goes to shit, I’ll dart into the woods by the road and try to lose them in the blizzard. It doesn’t escape me that I will likely lose myself, too, because I have zero wilderness skills, but somehow freezing to death in a forest is less horrifying a thought than being assaulted by a stranger.
“Hello?” a deep voice calls. “Is anyone here?”
I move an inch, trying to peer above the hood to see the man. He’s standing not ten feet from me, and even from my vantage point I can tell he’s massive.
My heart goes into overdrive, hammering against my ribs. This might be a good moment to call the cops. But still I hesitate. The man hasn’t done anything yet, and what would I even tell the police? The nice stranger who stopped by to offer assistance asked me where I was?
But if I wait too long, the cops won’t get to me in time. Not in this weather.
“Hello,” the man says.
He’s much closer this time. In fact, while I was deliberating about calling the police, he’d moved around the front of my car. He stands there, giving me space, but stares down at me where I’m still crouched by the car’s tire, my flashlight clasped in my hand.
That’s when it hits me. Of course he found me. I’d all but put out a beacon with this flashlight.
