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Chapter One
“People are strange.”
Marissa shook her head, resting her elbows on the old, filthy picnic table at the rest area. She had stopped twenty minutes earlier to give her legs a stretch, use the bathroom, and eat dinner. The place had been deserted when she pulled in. That changed fifteen minutes ago when he appeared. It was like something out of a movie—one minute she was alone, and then suddenly she wasn’t. The man kept his distance, though she didn’t think he was even aware of her presence. Something about him was off.
She took the last bite of her turkey sandwich and intently focused on the older man as he paced back to the bathroom entry for the fourth time. It had been an odd ritual he’d done for the past ten minutes. He was dressed in dirty jeans stained with what she assumed were grease spots. They hung low from his frail, thin waist. His back was hunched slightly, and his leather jacket seemed to swallow him. Even slouched forward, she could tell he was tall, well over six feet. His stringy gray hair draped over his back just past his shoulders.
“Homeless vagrant?” It was a fair assessment from his appearance. She sipped her soda and continued to watch him and play her game. She smirked and licked the remaining crumbs from her lips. The game. Single-player only. During the last two years, she’d spent the majority of her time alone, yet surrounded by countless strangers. She’d concocted “the game” to pass the time. It had spiraled into an obsession. It was pretty simple: find a target, observe, and fate them. Who were they? Where were they going? How would their story end?
Marissa folded her arms and leaned on the table, squinting for a better look. You’re a Rockstar, well, has-been Rockstar. Never made it huge, but locally you were a legend. People thought you’d make it big, but the booze, drugs, and women were your downfall. Yes, definitely a woman. Named…Rose. Same woman you named a song after, the one who left you a tattered mess when you fell for her, and she left you for your tour manager…um…Leonardo. You never quite recovered. You stopped making music, became a laughingstock of the town you grew up in, and have been a hermit ever since. You’ve been holed up in the woods, tent and your guitar destined to only come out of hiding when you’ve written the next best hit song, aptly named, ”The Dark Rose.”
Her shoulders slumped as she sighed. “Or? You’re just a man who’s lost his way.”
Strange man, though. Just as he reached the doors to the rest area building, he stopped and spun around, rushing down the walk. Again. While his actions screamed suspicious, he didn’t strike her as dangerous. He looked malnourished and sickly. With his profile in her view, she noticed his cheeks were gaunt. The only color to his face was his silver beard.
She wrapped up her sandwich crumbs and wiped off the table before making her way to the garbage a few feet from where she sat. It was time to get back on the road. Destination? Wherever. She needed to check the map once more before she headed out. By the looks of this town, hotels were probably few and far between. Not a tourist hotspot, that was for sure. It didn’t matter much to her. She was a night driver anyway. She’d get a room at sunrise, as usual.
She tossed her wrapper and empty soda in the garbage can, giving a last glance at the old man who was now sitting on the curb. His head swung from side to side frantically. He gripped his hands in front of him, still looking around. Oddly though, he never glanced her way.
Not your problem, not your business.
Marissa couldn’t remember the last time she even considered voluntarily talking with someone. She’d made a habit of avoiding contact. She chewed on her bottom lip. Walk away. Her gaze shifted to the guy. It had also been a while since she’d experienced an internal struggle. Her mind was advising her to walk away, but her gut was keeping her planted on the pavement.
She tilted her head. “Waiting on a ride?”
He continued to grapple with his hands, bowing his head to the asphalt. He gave no indication he’d even heard her. Deaf, maybe? The corner of her mouth hitched up at the irony of the situation.
In the past two years, she’d avoided conversation at all costs when she was on the road. With the obvious exception of necessity.
“Yes, I’d like fries with my burger.”
“I need a room for one night.”
“Yes, please.”
And,
“No, thank you.”
She had almost become a mute of her own doing.
Now here she was, trying to make conversation and being blatantly ignored. She scanned the empty parking lot, and her gaze landed on the old man again. He must have been waiting on someone. The rest area was deserted and had been since she stopped there a half-hour ago. It was just off the highway, not a single house or business in sight.
So where the hell did he come from? She perused the dense woods backing to the rest area. Do you care? She ignored the voice in her head. This man, who he was or where he came from, was none of her concern. Then why am I hesitating? Why was she finding it almost impossible to leave? Her mind shouted “walk away” while her gut burned with angst. I can’t leave him here alone. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. Her heart pumped faster than usual, and her skin prickled up her spine, sending the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. It’d been so long since she felt anything. She was getting a rare glimpse of who she used to be. She felt almost…human again.
Nope!
She side-eyed the man who hadn’t uttered a word or even acknowledged her. Time to go. She had gotten a later start than usual today, which would have her stopping at nine in the morning. It was not her usual routine; she preferred to be off the road by morning rush hour. She liked driving at night and having the road to herself.
A late-night gypsy drifter. At one of the many truck stop diners she stopped in, a lonely trucker had taken a seat at her booth. He was uninvited, but it didn’t stop him from taking a seat across from her and spending the next forty minutes sharing his life story. Some people just needed to talk, she figured. She never spoke a word except when he grabbed her bill and paid it. She told him it wasn’t necessary, but he shook his head. “You let me sit with ya, talk your ear off. In my book it gets ya a free dinner. Consider it a thank you from one late-night gypsy drifter to another.”
Inhaling a breath, she focused back on the old man standing and pacing back to the bathroom. He looked lost. Why do I even care?I don’t. She forced herself to turn around and headed toward her car. Her stomach rolled, another unfamiliar feeling, as she neared her car. She gripped the handle and glanced over her shoulder. If she had to guess, this rest area wasn’t used too often. The bathroom was filthy and the lot overgrown. It could be days before another driver stopped. Would he still be here?
“Damn it,” she mumbled, jerking her gaze to her door. She had tried to talk to him. He ignored her. What more could she do? Nothing.
She hopped in her car and got situated for her long ride. She tried to put the old man out of her head. She backed out of her spot and started to the exit. Don’t do it. Shut up. Peering out her window, she saw him again. He was walking back down the path, same as he had done before. However, this time she was close enough to see his eyes. Her heart sank and found residence in her stomach. I know that look. She slammed on her brakes, jerking the car to a stop.
She leaned forward and angled her head to get a better look at him. Fear had a distinct appearance. The corners of his eyes were crinkled, and she could see the panic when his gaze met hers for the first time. She had been in plain sight for the past thirty minutes, but he was looking at her as if she had just appeared out of thin air. Then his brows furrowed into a harsh scowl, transforming his face. He didn’t look quite as vulnerable as he did minutes ago.
