“Face it,” she said to the disguised woman in the mirror, “you’re on your own.”
Then again, hadn’t she always been?
The snow began to fall a little more heavily, collecting on the windshield, and she remembered the storm that had been predicted, a blizzard moving south from Canada, the biggest of the winter. Great, she thought sarcastically. Just what she needed. She flipped on the wipers and from the corner of her eye, caught a flash of headlights shining through the night, a vehicle somewhere behind her.
You’re not the only one who lives out here, she reminded herself.
“But almost,” she said, her gloved hands tightening over the steering wheel. Again, she looked back. Again she saw lights.
She swallowed hard and wondered where the hell all of her bravado had gone. It was as if her courage had dissolved in the time, over a year, since that conversation with her mother.
It’s nothing. Don’t be paranoid. Get a damn grip.
Her heart was pounding like crazy. Despite the cold, her fingers began to sweat in her gloves as she clenched the wheel.
Another look in the mirror.
The lights had disappeared.
Probably turned off at that last junction. She let out her breath.
It was nothing. See? For God’s sake pull yourself together. You have to keep a level head.
She saw the lane leading to her cabin and started to turn in when two eyes caught in the headlights. “Oh, God!” She slammed on the brakes and the SUV skidded, back end fishtailing as the deer leaped nimbly into the surrounding trees.
She sat for a second, waiting for her rollicking heart to return to normal as snow drifted down, falling steadily, piling on the ground.
It was a damn deer. Nothing more.
She pressed on the gas pedal. Wheels spinning, she whispered, “Come on, come on,” as the back end slid some more. Finally, the front wheels caught, the Tahoe lurched forward, and she drove along the ruts to the cabin, a tiny dark abode in the middle of nowhere.
She’d been foolish to come to Grizzly Falls, she realized, propelled by fear and confusion and, yes, paranoia. But, come the daylight, she would make things right.
The rest of the drive down the winding length of the lane was uneventful. She parked, hurried into the cabin, then went through her usual routine of replacing firewood, then stoking the flames, and double-checking all the locks on the doors and latches on the windows before making certain that every curtain or shade was pulled tight.
After twisting on the shower to get the warm water running, she took off the pieces of her disguise. She hung her wig and padding on a hook behind the bathroom door then secured her dental appliance in a ziplock plastic bag that she left on the counter. Cold to the bone, she showered quickly, then dried off, tossing her towel over a hook near the window. She cracked the window just enough to clear the room of what little steam had collected. Shivering, she pulled on her sweats, grabbed her uniform and underclothes, then hurried back to the living room where the fire was burning more brightly, some heat emanating from the grate.
Yeah, this place is miserable, she thought. Hardly a haven.
By habit, she folded her work clothes then placed them on the table at one end of her makeshift bed. Finally, she settled in by the fire and turned on her computer to catch up on the day’s news and watch some mind-numbing television. Currently, she found no more information about the two women who had been killed in Grizzly Falls and she prayed that they hadn’t been targeted because of her.
No way.
That was impossible, right?
Creeeaaak.
Her heart stilled as she listened.
Had she been mistaken, or had a floorboard squeaked somewhere in her house?
Waiting, not moving a muscle, she listened hard.
Nothing.
There’s no one here. No one. You know it.
But there had been a noise. She was sure of it. And it sounded as if it had emanated from inside the house.