Page 42 of His Wounded Heart

It’s like she’s read my mind. I can’t see shit, so I am going to need constant navigation. As soon as I veer left she starts talking.

“Slow down even more; there’s going to be another fork in the road. It’s going to divide into two tiny trails and you’re going to want to take the right one.”

“Do you have that on terrain mode?” I ask.

“Yeah, that’s how I can see that the trails are tiny. But after that it’s covered with trees, so I’m just showing that you follow that direction for another thousand meters but then there’s a clearing and you reach the Randolphs’ cabin.”

“Got it,” I say as I grit my teeth. The Navy should use these trails in the rain when they do their tactical driving courses. Fuck, I can barely see a thing.

“Two hundred meters to fork.” Her voice is soothing and steady.

“One hundred meters.”

“Got it,” I say as I take the trail to the right. At least the trail is pretty level. The trees have been cut away just enough so that a truck my size can get through.

Just.

I hear Trenda quietly laugh.

“What?”

“You’re driving this as well as Bernie does, and you’re having to deal with the storm from hell.”

“I’ve taken driving classes, and I’ve been in firefights when I’ve had men shooting at me while I’ve been driving. If this is what’s going to do me in, I’ve totally lost my edge.”

Her laughter is a little louder, a little smokier.

“You sound like my brother. He doesn’t have any ego issues, either.”

“Please God, say you don’t see me as your brother.”

“No, I definitely have you and Drake separated in my mind.”

“Good,” I say as I pull into a clearing that actually has a roundabout, surrounded by grass. “Who are we visiting again?” I ask.

“This is Violet and Luther Randolph. They’re a lovely couple, but they shouldn’t be up here. It always breaks my heart to see them.”

“Why?”

“You’ll see. You’re going to need to take everything in yourself, and you’re going to need to swap out the propane tanks.”

I shrug. “Okay.”

I park the truck so that Trenda’s side will be close to the porch. I’ll be able to lift her right onto it.

When we get out, she seems anxious. She knocks, but nobody answers.

“The storm’s too loud. They can’t hear.”

“Then you bang on it, they’ll hear that.”

I use my fist and bang on the door and we wait a good two minutes, but still nobody answers. Trenda goes for the handle and opens it.

“Hello? Violet? Luther? It’s me, Trenda Avery.”

Still no response. When she takes a step into the house, I stop her. “I’m going in first. We don’t know what we’ll find.”

“You’ll scare them. Luther has dementia, you need to be gentle with him,” she hisses.