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Two and a half hours later, he saw a sign for a truck stop with a diner. A motel. The exit was five miles ahead. He hoped Alex had enough sense to get off the road. Find that diner and motel. Fifteen minutes later, crawling along at ten miles per hour, he could barely see Alex’s taillights, even though she was directly in front of him.
He tried to watch the road and look for the exit ramp at the same time. Fifteen torturous minutes later, Alex signaled a right turn. Apparently she’d seen the sign, as well. The exit ramp must be close.
She eased her car carefully to the right and crept up the ramp, her Subaru skidding in the snow. As far as Gideon could tell, no one had exited via this ramp since the storm started.
She braked at the top of the ramp, and her car slid sideways. Gideon held his breath as he watched her regain control of the car. Eventually, she made a right turn, her car fish-tailing wildly.
Subaru Foresters, with their all-wheel-drive, were good snow cars. If Alex’s car couldn’t handle this, his lumbering sedan didn’t stand a chance. He shut out everything but the car in front of him and the road beneath his wheels as he crept along the unplowed road. Prayed this motel and diner were close.
A gust of wind whipped across the road, pushing Alex’s car into a skid. She managed to regain control, and Gideon gripped his own steering wheel hard. The drifts of snow made his car shudder. The wind tried to push it off the road, and he struggled to keep it in the ruts from Alex’s car.
Visibility was close to zero. He saw nothing but the white, swirling snow. The faint red of Alex’s taillights ahead of him. The vague ruts in the snow from her wheels. Nothing else.
At least it was still daylight. Driving through this at night would be suicidal.
* * *
Alex glanced in the rearview mirror. Wolf was still behind her, his headlights shining in the mirror. She’d feared that he was Jerry’s hitman. He claimed to be an FBI agent, although she had doubts about his credentials. But even if they were legitimate, that changed nothing. FBI agents could be as corrupt as anyone else.
He’d been right about one thing -- they should have stayed in Valley City. But she’d been determined to get on the road. Too antsy to wait another minute at the hotel. Every instinct in her body screamed at her to flee. To get as far away from Evanston as possible. If Jerry’s hitman was any good, she’d never see him coming. She’d be dead before she even recognized the danger.
Now, inching along this narrow country road, all she saw was swirling white. She had no idea what was on either side of her. Pastures? Ranches? Farms? Could be anything. Her only option was to grip the steering wheel, make sure the car’s wheels stayed in the ruts, and keep going.
They’d exited the expressway almost an hour ago, and she hadn’t seen a single car. No signs of life. Should she turn back?
No. If she tried to drive out of the ruts, the car would slide off the road. She’d have no way of getting back into those ruts. She was damn sure no tow trucks were out today.
And what would she go back to? The expressway? No shelter there.
She glanced behind her, and the faint specks of light that were Wolf’s headlights appeared in her rearview mirror. She drew a deep breath. Kept driving.
Twenty minutes later, she thought she saw lights through the swirling snow. A rhythmic flicker. Was that the diner? The motel?
In her excitement, she pressed the gas pedal too hard. Her car’s wheels spun, and she slid sideways. She managed to get her car back into the ruts, but when she looked behind her, Wolf’s car was gone.
She kept going, knowing this was her chance to lose him. But after a hundred yards, she slowed the car. Stopped. Put on her flashers, even though the chance of anyone else on the road was probably zero.
This was stupid. Gideon Wolf might be the hitman. If she tried to help him, he could shoot her in the head and leave her buried in the snow. No one would find her body for days. She should keep driving and not look behind her.
But he hadn’t tried to hurt her when he’d pushed his way into her room. If he was trying to kill her, he could have done it then. Shot her and left her body for the maid to find when she cleaned the room. If he was the hitman, he’d have noticed her hand shaking. Realized she’d never actually shot anyone. A cold-blooded killer would have no problem eliminating her before she could shoot him.
She stepped into a white world, the wind howling around her, trying to shove her sideways. Flipping up the collar of her jacket to protect her already-cold ears, shoving her fingers into the pockets of her way-too-lightweight jacket, she stepped into one rut and carefully walked back the way she’d come.
A handful of minutes later, she found Wolf’s car. It lay in a ditch, tilted steeply onto its right side. Wolf was trying to open his car door, but every time it opened a few inches, the wind slammed it shut again.
She couldn’t leave him here. He’d freeze to death in his car. And the chances of anyone else coming along to save him were slim to none.
So she stepped out of the rut and plunged knee-deep into the snow. It burrowed beneath her jeans, the cold burning her skin. She grabbed the door handle and pulled, and Wolf pushed at the same time.
The door opened about a foot, and he managed to slide through sideways. He yanked a briefcase out of the narrow opening just before the door slammed shut.
He lifted the briefcase toward her. “Take this. I’ll get my suitcase out of the trunk.”
The leather handle was still warm from the car, and she was grateful for its heat against her cold palm. Wolf waded through the deep snow until he reached the trunk, then popped it open with his fob.
As he stepped toward the opening, he stumbled. He swore beneath his breath, but he was able to grab the small suitcase and slam the trunk lid. Then he tried to climb out of the ditch.
The wind blew him backward twice as he plunged through the snow. Before he tried again, she reached out her hand. Yelled, “Give me the suitcase.”
