Winter's Journey Read online

  By the blurry outline in the truck’s window behind her, there was only one person in the cab, the driver. There was no way a single driver could have tailed her unless he drove straight through the last twenty-four hours without a rest. That was unlikely, unless the driver had a partner, too, sleeping in the cab behind him.

  Her irritation grew as the Freightliner continued to tailgate her. With the rain and the road conditions worsening by the hour the other truck was too close and traveling too fast. Its engine droned in her ears, louder than Baby Blue’s. It sounded souped up.

  She should have picked up the CB and reported the guy to the cops, but she was nervous about taking her attention off the slick roads and apprehensive about a confrontation between she, Sam, and the cops. They would check her logbook and see they’d been at the I-55 Truck Stop the night of the murder. They would want to ask questions, maybe at the police station. She didn’t have time for that now. So her hands stayed on the wheel and her eyes on the erratic truck behind her.

  She sped up but the Freightliner held on. She slowed down. It did the same. She opened the window and waved her arm outside gesturing to the other driver to pass. He didn’t. She changed lanes. It changed, too. It was nearer than before and forced her to speed up.

  If a cop saw them they’d both be pulled over for speeding. Good thing there wasn’t much traffic. The guy behind her was playing some kind of game, but why would he endanger both their vehicles? It didn’t make any sense. She was beginning to think there was something wrong with the other driver.

  Using the CB, she attempted to contact the trucker behind her. She tried every channel but got no answer. He didn’t have his CB on or he didn’t have one.

  They passed a few cars and trucks and were getting attention. Horns blared and people leaned out of their windows yelling or pointing. Other vehicles rushed out of the way or skidded off the highway onto the shoulder.

  The Freightliner wouldn’t slow down. Loretta couldn’t stop, couldn’t outrun it, and couldn’t get away from it. At these speeds with the wet road, hydroplaning became a danger. She no longer wondered why it was tailgating her. She only wanted it to go away, to pass her or leave her alone.

  In the rainy dusk she drove past a road sign with big white letters against a blue background: REST STOP AHEAD. She’d get off the highway there, and if the guy followed her into the parking lot, she’d wake Sam up to help. Now she was glad he was with her.

  Halfway up the steep hill the rest area came into sight, and she floored Baby Blue long enough to move ahead of her clinging shadow. She wrenched the wheel to the right and veered off onto the wet asphalt. She came to a stop, geared the truck into park, and with an open mouth stared as the Freightliner sped by her in the rain. It was a Conventional with a sleeper like hers, dirty off white, and it was going so fast she couldn’t see much of anything else. The license plates were covered by paint or mud and were illegible.

  She tried to get a good look at the driver, but the side windows were smoky dark-tinted mirrors. It could have been the same truck she’d seen the day before or not. There were lots of battered white Freightliners on the road.

  As she sat there muttering to herself, the other truck hit the top of the next hill shrouded in mist and disappeared from view. She cut Baby Blue’s engine and laid her head on the steering wheel.

  She groaned softly, “That was a heck of a lot of fun. Let’s not do it again. Ever.”

  “Is something wrong, Loretta?” a sleepy voice came from the bed behind her.

  Sam was awake. Her doubts that the man she’d hired might have something to do with the trucker’s murder returned, yet after her chase through the rain with the lunatic truck driver, she couldn’t deal with it. Not then. Hearing his calm voice, she wanted to believe Sam had nothing to do with the killing. She wanted to trust him. She wanted to trust someone. It’d been so long.

  Truth is, you don’t want to think anything bad of Sam because you’re falling for him.

  She didn’t tell Sam about the Freightliner. She’d had the strangest thought that maybe there might be some link with what had just happened and Sam. Maybe someone had a grudge against him and was out to get him. It was just a thought, but she couldn’t get it out of her head.

  Because who would want to hurt her? She’d never done anything to anyone that would warrant someone trying to run her off the road, not that she knew of anyway.

  “You don’t have any enemies after you, do you Sam?” She caught the delay before he answered. “No, not that I know of. Why would you ask that?”

  “Never mind. It was a dumb question.”

  “Loretta,” he repeated. “Is something wrong? Why are we stopped?”

  “No, nothing’s wrong, Sam. Some guy was tailgating me a little too close, that’s all. It got a little hairy, so I’m catching my breath. I need to use the restroom anyway, so I stopped. Sorry, I woke you.”

  Sam climbed into the passenger seat and slouched beside her. In the dash lights his face was sleep rumpled. “Is that why you were careening all over the road and muttering to yourself?”

  “Yep.”

  “That’s what woke me—and the grumbling in my stomach.” He rubbed his face with his hands and stretched in the seat. “Told you I didn’t need much sleep.” He reached for the remainder of her coffee and opened the fudge bag. “Can I have some?”

  “Help yourself. I bought it for both of us.”

  “How thoughtful.” A puzzled frown played on his face. “When did you stop to get it?”

  She told him, leaving out the part about the murder that she’d overheard on the radio. She almost said something about it but decided to wait until later. When they were in a restaurant or some place with lots of people around.

  “I didn’t even know you’d left the truck. Guess I was out for the count.”

  “You were.” She had the feeling he wanted to say something else but at the last minute didn’t. Could he have seen the Freightliner and known it had been harassing her? If so it was strange that he didn’t say something.

  He drank the coffee and ate a chunk of fudge quietly as she tried to convince herself he wasn’t hiding something from her. It was hard to tell, though, because his face was dappled with shadows and his eyes were expressionless in the faint light from the rest stop.

  She was so overcome with her suspicions, it surprised her when he reached out and touched her arm.

  “Loretta, you sure there isn’t something you want to tell me?”

  She looked through the windshield at the rain. It was falling harder now and turning the world into a waterfall. She should ask him about the trucker and the murder but she couldn’t. Not yet. She faked a smile. “No, nothing.”

  “Hey, stop fibbing. You’re as pale as a rock. Looks like you’ve seen a ghost. What’s wrong?”

  He was pretty intuitive. For a man.

  “I don’t believe in ghosts.” She evaded his request again. “Do you?”

  He sighed as if he was giving up and said, “Not really, but there are things in this world no one can explain.”

  “Like what?”

  “Things.” He nudged her arm. “Stop avoiding my question. What’s wrong?”

  “I told you. I had a scare back there.”

  An uncomfortable silence fell between them. Outside the wind and rain mourned; it was nearly a human sound.

  She grabbed her purse and coat and put her hand on the door handle. “I’m going in to use the facilities. Be right back.”

  “Me, too.” Sam was behind her as she forged out into the rain. He left her outside the woman’s restroom. She stayed inside longer than she had to, splashing water on her face to calm herself down. By the time she left, she felt better.

  Sam reappeared at her side as she dashed to the truck, not wanting to get soaked. It had gotten even colder as the day had progressed and she was grateful for her heavy waterproof coat. She felt sorry for Sam in his thin jacket and thought he must be freezing. A man traveling th
e road should have warmer clothes.

  A cherry red Volvo with a modest sleeper cab sat parked at the end of the asphalt. The lights and engine were off, chilly as it was. The inhabitants must be catching a nap. Loretta didn’t like to stay too long in run down, isolated rest stops like this one with little lighting and she tried not to ever spend the night. It was too risky because thieves and perverts targeted solitary shadowy places. There were safety in numbers and she preferred to sleep in the approved rest and truck stops where there were lots of lights, trucks and people around.

  She should talk to Sam about the murder now. She switched on the interior light so she could see him, but he distracted her by saying, “I hope you don’t mind, but I gave a few pieces of that fudge to a little girl inside. She asked me for money. I had none left and she said she was hungry, so I gave her the fudge.”

  That was sweet. What a kind man.

  “Of course it was okay. You want to take some money in for her?”

  “No. She left.” Then he said, “It’s getting dark. You want me to take the wheel?”

  She didn’t like driving after the sun went down. Her night vision was weak, but she wasn’t that tired. Besides, she still didn’t know what to do about Sam and the murder.

  He leaned closer to her and she moved away. Hurt flashed across his face. “I have an hour left on my shift, and it’s not totally dark yet. You can get more sleep if you want.”

  “No, I’m good. I slept over seven hours. I’ll hang out with you.”

  Ask him now. That look, the one where he seemed vulnerable and lost, stopped her. He was so eager for companionship, so sincere with those sad eyes, it melted her.

  This time when he reached out for her she let him kiss her on the lips. It was a gentle kiss, just one, as the rain danced on the truck around them. He pulled away. For the first time she saw happiness in his expression, as if she’d given him a gift.

  He’s a loving and considerate man, she thought. There’s no way he could be a cold-blooded killer.

  “I know it’s too soon, Loretta. We haven’t known each other long, but I’ve been wanting to do that since the minute I first saw you.”

  She avoided his eyes. She should never have let him kiss her. Too intimate. Too fast.

  He sighed. “I think I’m falling in love with you. Oh, I know it’s quick. But I know how I feel, and I’ve never felt this way before.”

  She should have been flattered. Happy. Sam was feeling what she was feeling. Yet he only confused her more. “Give me time. This is happening so quickly, it’s scaring me.”

  “All right, I’ll slow down. We’ll get to know each other better.” He turned and looked at her. “We should get back on the road. We have a deadline to meet, remember?”

  “I remember,” she echoed. To cover her embarrassment over the kiss and her mixed feelings she fussed with her logbook. “Let me update this thing and we’ll leave.”

  There was nothing like scribbling down figures to bring a person back to reality. Her logbook was solid. It was her connection to her business and her real life. “I’m going to put down that you slept eight hours instead of seven and a half. Keep us legal. We won’t make a habit of it.”

  “We won’t.”

  She finished, put the logbook away, and took the wheel. She opened her mouth to tell Sam about the murder but noticed the red Volvo’s driver’s door was slightly open. They must have wanted fresh air. It was careless to leave the door ajar like that. They were asking for trouble in this secluded place. She thought of going over and seeing if there was a problem, but most truckers cherished their privacy and Sam was watching her. The daylight was going and they needed to get back on the road.

  Loretta turned on the headlights and took her truck out onto the highway. She merged into sparse traffic as a state trooper headed into the rest stop. The rainy day was becoming a rainy evening with dropping temperatures. She snapped on the heat in the cab, turned the CB on low and then, remembering the killing, turned it off.

  “We’re stopping for supper soon, aren’t we, Boss?”

  Sam flashed her that smile that seemed to say: Everything’s okay. You’re safe. Trust me.

  “Don’t tell me you’re hungry again?”

  “Hey, it’s been seven hours since breakfast. What happened to lunch?”

  “You were sleeping and I was driving, that’s what. And,” she nodded at the crumpled bag, “you’ve eaten the rest of the fudge and more of the snacks. How can you be hungry?”

  “I am.”

  “We’ll stop for supper at the end of my shift. I want to get a few more miles down the road. There are more snacks left in the bag behind your seat and soda in the cooler. That should tide you over.”

  Sam collected the bag of munchies and offered her a candy bar. She took it.

  He devoured an apple and a Hershey’s bar as she concentrated on her driving. A wispy creeping blanket of fog drifted across the road, and with the coming darkness it made it hard to see much of anything. It was only going to get worse. Poor Sam. Night driving was bad enough without rain and fog.

  It made Loretta think of her daughter who was frightened of the dark. Tessa would be home from school now and probably lounging with Cherie’s dogs in front of the fireplace doing her homework. Suddenly Loretta wanted to speak to her daughter so badly.

  She’d have to wait until they stopped for supper because chances were her cell phone wouldn’t work at all anymore and she’d have to use a pay phone.

  Tell Sam about the murder, her mind whispered insistently. Before she could, a cascade of rain slammed against the front of her truck and she was too busy keeping the machine on the road to think of much else. I’ll talk to him over supper with people around us and see how he behaves.

  “Read any good books lately?” he asked. They discussed that for a while and then Sam spoke of a tiny starving kitten he’d found the week before on the side of the road. “Someone must have dumped it there. Poor creature was all skin and bones. It was a wonder it was even alive. I carried it with me and found a home for it with this waitress I knew at a truck stop.”

  The man was a saint and she told him so.

  “Nah, I just love animals. I can’t stand to see them suffer. I missed that cat as soon as I gave it away. Wished I could have kept it, but traveling’s hard enough on a grown person, much less a baby animal, and that kitten needed a home.”

  “Were you always a truck driver, Sam?”

  “Pretty much.” He looked out the window into the heavy rain, his fingers playing with the empty Hershey’s wrapper. “Like I said, my dad owned a truck and taught me everything I know. He got sick, though—cancer—and I came home from college and took over, until I lost the truck. Dad had it mortgaged to the hilt.”

  “What did you want to be?”

  “You want a laugh? I wanted to work in the space program at NASA. I wanted to be an astronaut since I was a kid, but because of a series of bad ear infections that gave me bouts of vertigo, I never could have been. I have a real gift for computer systems and applied for a position in Ground Control, but at the time there were no openings. I would have settled for any position at NASA, so while I waited for that opening I ended up driving a truck moving parts for them. Best job I ever had. The company made you feel like you were part of a family.”

  “You went to college and you drove a truck for NASA. Impressive.” It didn’t surprise her, though. He was an intelligent man.

  “Thanks.” He inclined his head at her. “I usually never talk about this with anyone, they think I’m bragging.”

  She took the plunge. “So what are you doing wandering the roads like a lost soul without a nickel in your pocket. What happened?”

  He shifted in his seat and shrugged his shoulders, his face framed in unruly hair. He was too handsome, like a movie star. At first she thought he wasn’t going to answer her.

  “Sorry, you don’t have to tell me,” she said. “It’s none of my business.”

  “Y
es, it is. I’m working for you and you have the right to know about me.

  “I messed up. I let something that happened in my personal life affect my whole life and I lost...my way...for a while and my job. I left NASA a year ago and I’ve been on the road ever since. Searching.”

  “For what?”

  “I don’t know...to get my head straight and find myself again, I guess.”

  “You’ve been running,” she stated simply.

  “Maybe I have.”

  “Can you tell me what happened, if it’s not too personal?”

  “It is. Let’s just say someone I cared very much about died. When we know each other better, I’ll tell you the rest of it. I really don’t want to talk about it now.”

  “I understand.” More than he knew. There were lots of lost people in the world. She’d met a few. Some had been friends. For a while she was one. The world could be a hard place. A person could wander off the safe path so easily.

  “What does your daughter want to be?” He’d remembered she had one.

  “She wants to be an archaeologist or a scientist of some kind. Wants to go to one of those fancy expensive colleges like Harvard or Yale if I’ll be able to afford it. She’s eleven but already knows what she wants. I never did. That’s why I’m behind the wheel on this dicey job. I’m going to make sure she gets to be what she wants. I’d sell my soul to make it happen.”

  She hadn’t told Sam where they actually lived or divulged any more information about her home life and Tessa than she had to. Trusting Sam, trusting anyone that much, would take time.

  “We’re about ten minutes away from that truck stop and supper,” she informed him. “Tell me about what it was like driving a truck for NASA? You ever see a rocket go up?” She’d always been interested in the space program, too.

  He cheered up as he spoke of his old job and gave her fascinating anecdotes about space shuttles, the people he worked for on the base, and the truck he drove. She could have listened for hours. He was a different Sam when he spoke about those things.

  They pulled into the Diamond Truck Stop for supper. She was glad to get off the highway and out of the rain, relieved her shift for the day was over. She could barely keep her eyes open.