“Where are you taking me?” I ask as the truck starts to pick up speed.
“Somewhere we’ll feel safe. Somewhere we can start over. Just you and me.”
I’ll die there; I know it. His rage will increase with his obsession.
If I’m going to die, why not here?
So, I reach for the gun with one hand, the steering wheel with the other.
And as the truck begins to spin on the snow, the gun goes off, an explosion against my ear.
It’s painfully loud and disorienting. I touch my hand to my shoulder, and there’s blood.
A lot of it.
But the agony of it can’t fight through the fear that has me stuck in this chair.
Somehow, Chase manages to regain control of the truck. “Look what you made me do,” he roars.
37
CATFISH
Margie has the radio set to play classic yacht rock songs. Michael McDonald. Kenny Loggins. Steely Dan. They all blend seamlessly into one another as she packs up my order.
The conversation is rowdy as the coffee pots hiss and the grills sizzle.
I wave over to Wraith, who sits in his usual booth with Fen and Raven. Fen’s mouth is covered with ketchup as he eats a fistful of fries. The kid is growing like a weed.
“You need cutlery for this?” Margie shouts.
“Nah, we’re good, Margie, thanks. Taking it back home to eat it.”
A plate clatters, followed by the scraping of chairs.
“You see that?—?”
“Holy…that truck just…”
“Spun like a top!”
The voices all come at once, and my head snaps. Those in seats by the window are craning their necks, cheeks pushed up against the glass, to see what is happening outside.
I don’t remember moving toward the door. Margie calls my name.
The view from the window tells me everything I need to know. My truck is no longer there.
Everything in me goes empty, for a second, then slams full of adrenaline and panic.
“Wraith,” I shout out over the top of everybody. But I’m out the door before I’m certain he’s responded. Sleet and snow hit my face like shards of broken glass.
I look left, then right, and in the road are tracks in the snow that show a truck was out of control for a hot minute. And at the very end of Main Street, I see taillights disappear.
“Holy shit,” Wraith says as we start to run. “Wren in there?”
“Where’s your truck?” I yell.
“Up by the hardware store, let’s go.”
