Page 94 of Walking the Edge

Then shouldn’t they be seeing something besides the ditch, scrub willows, and the broken yellow light on the pavement? “You realize I have to take your word for this. We got off the interstate a long time ago.”

“This road veers away. We had to get off there. You don’t need to worry about the thugs. We lost their SUV long before our exit.”

“I don’t understand why they stopped.” That had happened thirty minutes ago, but her nerves still rushed around like crazy. “I’m glad they did, but they seemed pretty intent on catching us. What if I got their headlights mixed up with some other car?”

“Do you see anyone behind us now? I don’t.” He glanced at her. “I don’t know why they stopped, but they could have run out of gas. Or overheated.”

“You’re right.” Cath let go of her charm. “You think they’re the same guys who chased us at the parade?”

“Probably, but like the detective said, we can’t know for sure.”

She sagged against her seat. “I’m getting sick of this.”

“Roger.” Yet he’d insisted she stay with him. Or him with her. Or both of them together. She hadn’t been drugged, but she couldn’t think straight.

Their beams began to pick up what looked like abandoned houses rising on stilts like storks. Mitch had only been driving twenty-five miles an hour, but he reduced his speed again.

More buildings came into view off the sides of the road. She scrubbed her face. “I wouldn’t mind a close encounter with a pillow about now.”

“Me too.”

“See there. That’s something else besides old movies we have in common.”

“We might have to share the pillow too.” He turned into a long drive and rolled to a stop beside stairs climbing to a raised house. “I think there’s only one here.”

“We could draw straws,” she said.

“We don’t have any straws either.”

The objects on the concrete slab under the house rose like ghosts in the headlights. She shivered. “This place feels so isolated.”

“This place is safe, and we were already halfway here when we lost the SUV. I don’t know about you, but like I said, I’m ready to call it a night.” He turned off the motor and took a flashlight from the glove compartment. “Wait here. I’ll turn on the generator.”

He disappeared under the house, and Cath stepped down onto the shell drive. Wind stirred in the cold night. She inhaled the primal scent of the salt marsh and stared across the road at decrepit stilt houses.

A low electrical hum followed him back. “We’ll have electricity and water now.”

“Does anyone else live out here?”

“The last hurricane trashed all the houses. A few other people are also making repairs, but I don’t think they’re living here at the moment.”

Cath hugged herself. This place definitely felt lost in time.

“I’ve got some stuff in the toolbox we should take upstairs.”

“I thought that was mainly survival gear.”

“Some people would call the creature comforts here barely surviving.” He walked to the rear of his truck.

“Are they?”

“This isn’t the Hilton, but it’ll be fine for one night.” He held his bandaged arm. “You want to drive another ten or twelve miles to Slidell?”

Where they would argue over who should pay for the motel? No way. They were both too tired to drive even one more mile, anyway. “I’m sure this will be fine.”

He lowered the tailgate, but she climbed up before he could lift a leg. “Let me. I’m not one of the walking wounded.”

She handed down everything he wanted, then locked the toolbox and got down. He handed her back the flashlight. “The grass is pretty high. Watch where you’re putting your feet.”

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