“Do you mind if I turn the heater up a bit?”
“Go ahead.”
Before leaving the cabin, he’d draped a coat of his over her, telling her that her running clothes wouldn’t be sufficient to ward off the cold. The coat swallowed her, of course, but she was grateful for it and pulled it more closely around her now.
“I really would be cold without your coat. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
She didn’t want to distract him with conversation, but she was desperate to know what lay in store. “Will you… What will you do?”
“When?”
“When we get there.”
“You’ll see.”
“Can’t you just tell me, so I’ll know what to expect?”
“It won’t be long now.”
Indeed, over the next half mile the steep grade leveled out and they began to pass houses. They were spaced widely apart, but they were the first signs of civilization she had seen in four days. Coming around a bend, the headlights caught a small city limit sign.
She turned to him with surprise. “This isn’t Drakeland.”
“No.”
“Is Drakeland farther on?”
“It’s in the other direction. This road doesn’t go there.”
“I thought you were taking me to Drakeland.”
“What made you think that?”
What had made her think that? He hadn’t told her that was their destination, but since it had been her starting point, she had assumed he would take her back there.
The town through which they were driving now barely qualified as such. It had two caution lights, one at each end of the narrow state road that bisected the town. On one side of it were a bank, a service station, and a double-wide serving as the US Post Office. A café, taxidermy, and general store were on the other side. All were closed for the night.
Emory had anticipated being returned to someplace with lights, activity, people. Batting down a flutter of panic, she asked, “Are you going to leave me here?”
“No.”
His terse response did little to assuage her misgiving.
At the second caution light he turned right, drove two blocks, then turned right again into an alley that ran along the back of a cluster of what appeared to be small businesses and offices.
“What are you doing? Where are we going? Are we meeting someone here?”
“We’re making a quick stop, that’s all.” He pulled up to the back door of a single-story brick structure, turned off the headlights, and cut the engine. “Sit tight for a sec.”
He got out and stepped around to the bed of the pickup. Looking through the rear window, she watched as he raised the lid of a tool box attached to the cab and took out a tire iron with a socket wrench at one end and a sharp, double-pronged hook at the other.
He carried it to the rear delivery door of the office. Before Emory could fully register what he intended to do, he’d done it. He used the tool to pop out the doorknob, including the entire locking mechanism, leaving a neat round hole in the metal.
He came back to the truck and returned the tire iron to the tool box, then opened the passenger door, unbuckled Emory’s seat belt, closed his hand around her biceps, and hauled her out.
“You’re up, Doc. Hustle.”