Page 4 of Loud Unspoken Memories

I pull away, moving my body as close to my door as possible while still tethered by the seat belt.

“Relax,” the guy says. “I’m just going to cut you out, not cut you to pieces.”

An exasperated burst of air escapes me. “Are youtryingto make me have a panic attack?”

He backs off and moves the knife away. “Okay, maybe we got off on the wrong foot.” He holds out his hand. “I’m Dallas Montana. I live around here. I was out for a run and heard your car horn. Good thing as nobody travels these roads. What the heck are you doing this far away from the highway? You don’t know Abe, do you?”

“Abe? No. I’m um… going to pick up my son in Cicero. I’m from Florida. Drove straight through the night. I was supposed to get off on I-90 and go west to Syracuse then pick up I-81 north, but around the Utica area my GPS messed up. Or I did. I ended up on NY-12 north and then my GPS went blank, along with my cell service. I figured I just needed to keep going west so…”

His brows knit together, and he looks down at his still outstretched hand. “Was there a name in there somewhere, or should I just keep calling youlady?”

I roll my eyes and shake his hand. “Martina Carver. My friends call me Marti.”

“Okay, Martina—”

“Marti,” I interrupt.

He flashes me a look of amusement. “So now we’re friends?”

“Are you going to get me out of here or what?”

“Are you going to keep freaking out about my knife?”

“About that,” I say. “Exactly why do you carry an eight-inch knife?”

“Because the gun is too heavy to carry on my runs.” He chuckles silently at my shocked expression. “I’m kidding. Well, not exactly. I do have a gun, and itisheavy, but I only have it because of the bears.”

Every muscle in my body tenses. “Bears?”

He shrugs. “They don’t usually bother people. They just look for food.” He nods to his fanny pack thing. “When you live in the middle of nowhere, it’s good to be prepared for anything.”

“I’m assuming you have a phone in there. I can’t seem to find mine. Can you call a tow truck? And maybe a car rental company?”

“This is a dead zone. There’s no cell service out here.”

“You’re kidding.”

“You’re the one who noticed your GPS and cell phone weren’t getting signals. It’s not like I’m lying.”

“So what do I do?”

He holds up the knife. “For starters, how about we get you out of here?”

“Okay.”

It’s hard not to be nervous when a complete stranger comes at me with an eight-inch knife that he could plunge into me faster than I’d even know what was happening. But he is meticulously careful as he finds a gap in the belt and saws his way through, the blade moving away from my body.

Finally freed, I climb one-handed over the console and out the other side, happy to be out of the car, but devastated that it seems to be totaled.

“What’ll I do now?”

“I have service at my cabin,” he says.

I snort out a laugh. “I think I’ve read a thriller about this. Stranded woman goes with kind stranger who lends a hand and she’s never heard from again.”

“There’s not much of a choice here.” He looks up. “It’s almost dark. And the snow is coming down harder. Not to mention, the animals will be coming out soon.”

I swivel my head in every direction.

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