Page 14 of Deathmarch
“Are you all right?”
“Took a tumble this summer. All healed up, but at this age, things don’t go back to being the same.”
She showed Allie into the room at the top of the stairs, where a welcoming fire crackled a greeting. The four-poster bed in the middle of the spacious room could have been transported straight from a fairy tale. And the bathroom that waited beyond…Yes, yes, yes.This was worth the death march through the valley of Broslin’s hopeful greetings.
“I gave you my best room. You’re my only guest this week.” Shannon shuffled farther in. “Business is slow this time of the year. You should be able to have a quiet, relaxing night.”
Allie hung her buffalo coat on the peg by the door that squeaked but upheld the weight. “I’m sure I will.”
“You should take a hot bath.” Shannon led the way.
White hexagonal mosaic tiles covered the walls all the way up to the ceiling, the space dominated by a claw-foot tub that called Allie’s name. She wasn’t about to play hard to get.
Shannon straightened the towels. Double-checked the little herbal soaps, shampoos, and conditioners. Then she gave a satisfied sigh as she patted her apron and turned to Allie. “Is your luggage in your car, dear? Do you need help with your suitcases?”
“I slid off the road. Harper Finnegan is towing my car in. He should be here any minute. He can just leave my keys and purse downstairs. I think I will take that hot bath. I don’t need to talk to him.”
“I’m so glad you weren’t hurt.” Shannon rested a hand on Allie’s arm, so sweet and kind, if Allie blocked out everything else, she could almost fool herself into believing her homecoming would be just fine. “How would you feel about a cup of lavender tea and some cookies? I suppose it’s too late for caffeine.”
“Lavender tea would be great. Thank you, Mrs. O’Brian.”
As soon as Allie was alone, she plopped onto the edge of the tub and turned on the faucet. And when hot steam rose off the water, she closed the bathroom door to keep all the heat in there. Then she sat on the closed toilet lid and pried off her boots at long last.
Whether the town would make her return easy or difficult didn’t matter. She was going to slug through it. She wiggled her half-frozen toes as she sloshed lemon verbena bath salts into the water. The lemony-fresh scent that rose with the steam enveloped her in a sense of instant well-being.
“God, I needed this,” she said as she stripped.
Then she was finally, finally, sliding into heavenly bliss, sighing with true happiness, not something she’d expected to find that day.
She shut out all her problems and worries, like she shut out the howling wind outside, and visualized the life she wanted: successful business, at least two bookings per week, the conversion van that was her hope and dream but currently only the background pic on her cell phone, the kind that had seats in the back that folded down into a bed, and five times the storage of the trunk of her Chevy.
She closed her eyes, rested her head on the edge of the tub, and hummed theI dreamed a dreampart fromLes Mis.
Her blessed peace lasted at least five minutes before the old-fashioned phone in the bedroom rang.
“Oh, come on.”
She was constantly on the move, going from one show to the next. How would Zane even find her here? Then again, how had he found her everyplace else? Her stomach clenched.
The ringing wouldn’t stop, so Allie sloshed out of the tub, wrapped herself in the mint-green robe that matched the soap dish and the shower curtain, then hurried to pick up. “Hello?”
Nothing but ominous silence on the other end.
“We’re over, Zane,” she said slowly and clearly, leaving no room for interpretation. “Deal with it. If I see you following me one more time, if you call again, I’m getting a restraining order. Do you hear me?”
And then the power cut out, and the room went black.
* * *
Alone on the road and surrounded by darkness, he was the definition of an easy target, so Harper hurried as he marked the spot where the Chevy had been stuck in the snow, tying a length of police tape around the telephone pole. He would have to find the vehicle’s exact location again in the morning, search the ground in the daylight, in case he’d missed anything in the dark.
He couldn’t sit out here all night in the snow, babysitting the Chevy. He was towing it to the police station and would process it there for evidence, inside their massive garage, out of the elements.
He tapped his feet to keep them warm and took another minute to commit the scene, the angle of the car where it had rested, to memory. He’d already taken pictures with his cell phone, even some video, but he had little hope they’d be helpful, not with this kind of visibility. He was going to have to make his own drawings.
He was heading back to his pickup when his cell phone rang.
“Computers are back on,” Leila said on the other end. “Let’s try this again.”
