Witness On The Run. Susan Cliff
want her.
She should have been relieved by his decency. She could relax now that she knew where she stood with him. For some reason, she felt sad and restless. Although she was exhausted, sleep wouldn’t come.
She turned toward him in the dark. The light from the fire didn’t reach his face. Although she couldn’t see his features, she sensed his tension. The reason for it eluded her. He hadn’t seemed anxious before they entered the cabin. Something had triggered him. While she showered, he’d gone outside to chop wood in a frenzy. “Are you awake?”
“No,” he said in a clipped tone.
She smiled at his curt response.
“Do you need something?” he asked.
“I don’t want to bother you.”
“I don’t mind.”
“What happened to your wife?”
He paused for so long she thought he wasn’t going to answer. Then he said, “She was in an accident. Hit-and-run. They rushed her to the hospital and tried to save her. She was in a coma for a few months.”
“She never woke up?”
“No. She didn’t.”
Her heart constricted with sadness. “I’m sorry.”
He didn’t say anything.
“Is that why you came to Alaska?”
“Yes.”
“You needed to get away from the bad memories.”
He shifted on the mattress, seeming uncomfortable. “I thought if I kept moving, I could...move on.”
“Did it work?”
“What do you think?”
“I think you’re too hard on yourself.”
He fell silent again.
“It’s okay to grieve, even for a long time.”
“Let’s talk about you,” he said.
“Me?”
“You’re on the run for a reason.”
It was her turn to be quiet.
“You won’t tell me about it?”
“No.”
“You don’t trust me?”
That wasn’t it. Right now, in the dark of the cabin, with flames crackling in the fireplace, she trusted him. She didn’t think he would hurt her or take advantage of her. But she also couldn’t expect him to rescue her from this mess. She had to rescue herself.
“I don’t want to involve you,” she said finally.
“Why not?”
“It’s not your problem.”
“Maybe I can help.”
She shook her head in denial. “I just have to lay low for a while. I’ve done it before.”
He grunted at this admission, as if it didn’t surprise him.
“I’ll be okay. I can find a job.”
“Where?”
“At a diner.”
“A diner with no cops or truckers? Good luck with that.”
“I’m not worried about truckers.”
“You should be, because they’ll recognize you.”
“So?”
“They’ll talk about you on the radio.”
“They will not.”
“Sure they will. They already do. I’ve heard them.”
She moistened her lips, incredulous. “What do they say?”
“Complimentary things. Some of it’s a little crude.”
Those bastards. She curled her hands into fists. If truckers talked about her on the radio, she’d be in trouble. Anyone could listen to those stations, including the cops—and the killers. But maybe Walt was okay, and no one would come looking for her. Maybe no one would worry about a missing waitress.
“I’m sure you’ll be able to find work on your back, if nothing else.”
She sat up in bed, her eyes narrow. He wasn’t insulting her to be mean. He thought he was helping her. “You’re trying to scare me into going to the police.”
“You should go to the police.”
“Why do you care?”
He tucked his hands behind his head. “I don’t know.”
She settled back down and hugged a pillow to her chest. Cam meant well, but she didn’t trust the police. She could take care of herself. Cam felt responsible for her because he’d given her a ride, and now she was like...his cargo. He wanted to deliver her safely. But she knew better than to expect him to stick around.
He was a trucker. He’d move on in the morning.
She closed her eyes and tried to rest. Visions of murder and violence plagued her. She burrowed deeper in the blankets. When she finally drifted off, the nightmares closed in. She was back at the diner. There was a bloody pile of innards sizzling on the griddle. She plated the mess and took it out to her customers. The killers were sitting at a table in the parking lot. She dropped the tray and started running, but her legs didn’t work. She couldn’t escape, so she climbed inside the dumpster to hide.
Walt was at the bottom. He’d been disemboweled.
She let out a terrified shriek, covering her mouth. A figure emerged from the shadows. It was Duane.
“I knew I’d find you in the trash with another man.”
He struck her across the cheek, and everything went black.
Tala woke up screaming. Her skin crawled with creepy sensations, and blankets were tangled around her ankles. She kicked them aside to free herself, flinging out her hands. She connected with someone, but it wasn’t Duane. It was Cam.
He put his arms around her. “Shh. You’re okay now. I’ve got you.”
She stopped struggling and went quiet. It was dark in the room. She could see the pleasant glow of the fire in the hearth. The only sound was her ragged breathing. A sob rose up to her throat. The breakdown she’d been fighting all day caught up to her with a vengeance. She couldn’t prevent the tears from coming, and they were long overdue. She hadn’t cried since she’d left Duane.
Cam stroked her hair and made soothing noises.
She finally calmed down enough to speak. “Walt was in the dumpster. He was dead.”
“It was just a dream.”
“Duane was there, too. He hit me.”
“Did he?”
She heard the edge in his voice and eased away from him. There were tissues on the nightstand, next to a bottle of cold water. She used a tissue and took a soothing drink. Little by little, her tears abated.
“Better now?”
“Yes.”
“Duane is your husband?”
“He was.”
“Are you divorced?”
“Not legally, but I left him.”
“Because he hit you?”
Her stomach clenched with unease. It was a deeply personal question, but they weren’t strangers anymore. They’d passed that point and entered another territory. He’d