Chapter One
Cassie
I curse again as I stare down at my piece of shit phone. I’m tempted to just toss the thing into the woods, but instead I shove it into my purse, wrap my jacket more tightly around my body, and keep walking.
My car broke down about a ten-minute walk back, and of course my phone has no signal, the battery is nearly dead, and there’s no way in hell I’m staying in my car in hopes that somebody drives by.
Or maybe it would’ve been smarter if I had stayed in my car? Walking to the nearest town, which is two miles away according to the street sign I’d seen, seems pretty damn stupid at the moment, too.
I stop and glance back, contemplating going back to my car, but then decide to just keep going. I’ve already gone this far.
Like every bad horror movie I’ve ever seen, there are woods on either side of me—a nice hiding place for a serial killer, I’m sure. A snap of a twig, the rustling of leaves in the distance ... of course, I hear all of that. I start walking faster, my heart beating harder. Despite the chill in the air, I start to sweat, beads forming between my breasts and down the length of my spine.
I imagine all the horrible things that are probably going to happen to me before I reach town. And then I see the headlights before I hear the sound of a vehicle approaching. I start walking faster, thinking about diving into the woods for cover.
Hell, isn’t this how all murder stories start: a girl on the side of the road, a car stopping, the driver handsome and charming and who just happens to like to wear human skin as a dress?
God, why did I think of that?
I step more to the side just as the car approaches, then of course it slows. I swear my heart stops when I hear the window being rolled down. I’m still walking but the car is keeping pace with me. I think about just sprinting into the woods, because I am not going to be someone’s victim tonight.
“Miss?” The deep voice that comes through has my entire body tightening.
I stop and glance over. The first thing I see is the side of his truck.
McKenzie Towing.
Kind of ironic, isn’t it?
I look back at him, and although it’s dark, the glow from his dashboard lights up his face. He’s handsome, very handsome in fact. I feel my heart racing for reasons other than fear and being out in the middle of nowhere with a strange man only feet from me.
“Need a lift to town?”
I find myself shaking my head, and even though it’s dark out, I see him lift an eyebrow in question.
“You don’t need a lift into town?” He looks at the road and then back at me. “Because I’m assuming that’s your car broken down a ways back?” I nod, but still don’t say anything. “And you’re headed toward town, it’s the middle of the night, and you’re walking out here alone. Doesn’t seem very safe to me.”
I shake my head, still not able to form a word. A little bit of fear mixed with some desire pumps through my veins.
He tilts his head to the side, confusion marring his expression. “You can’t talk?” He is being genuine in his question.
I swallow, my throat dry and tight, this lump suddenly forming right in the center of it. “I’m good.” Those are the only two words I can say at the moment. I wrap my jacket even more tightly around my body until I feel like it’s suffocating me.
“You can use my phone if you’d rather call someone, a friend, maybe a cab? But really, I’m the only tow truck in town and I’m headed there now. I can easily give you a ride.” He stares at me for a second. “It’s not safe you walking out here alone. Shelby is a good town, but still, crazy motherfuckers could drive by.”
“Like you?” I say, half teasing, half being serious.
He chuckles. “Fair enough.” He smiles at me and I feel that heat rising in my body again. I stop walking when he stops his truck. I’m still nervous, but there’s something about him that I find I’m drawn to. “I’m Michael McKenzie.” Before I can say anything, he starts rustling in the passenger seat. I take a step back on instinct. When he faces me again, he holds out his hand and produces a cell phone. “Seriously, I’m only trying to help.”
For a moment, I just stand there, not sure if I should take it, but then walk closer, reach out, and take it from his hand. “Cassie Buchannan.” I stare at the outdated flip phone. I open it and the screen lights up, showing a full battery and good reception. The phone is cracked on one side, scuffed on the other, and I’m pretty sure that’s grease smeared along the keys.