Page 11 of Dark Roads
We passed cabin after cabin. He stopped at a couple of them, looked down their driveways, and told me what he was checking for—broken windows, vandalism, garbage.
“Renters are always leaving stuff behind. Makes a mess andbrings bears. Most of the owners are decent. They call me to check on things. You get to know them over the years.”
At every stop, I stared out the window and ignored his voice. I couldn’t stand listening to any more of his theories, but we were almost around the lake. He turned down a narrow, overgrown lane. I had to grab on to the dash to keep my balance. He stopped in a clearing.
The truck was facing the lake, the shore blocked by bulrushes, shrubs, and ferns. At the back of the lot, near the tree line, a run-down shack slanted forward. Someone had spray-painted their initials on the side. Half-burnt logs sat in a fire ring, and a truck bench seat was on one side.
“Sometimes people camp here.” He shut off the truck. I knew there were parties on this side of the lake, but it was where the headbangers and druggies hung out. We stayed away from that crowd.
“It’s private land,” Vaughn said as he got out. “Doesn’t seem to stop them, though. I come out almost every day in the warm months. Last thing we need is a forest fire.” He gestured to me. “Come on. The view is pretty from here.” The door slammed, making the truck rock.
I hesitated, my hand on the door. I didn’t want him to think we were going to be friends, but it was hot as hell in the cab without air-conditioning. Better to play along, I guess.
When I climbed out, he was looking out over the lake. “Lots of birds out here. Eagles, herons. I’ve got some good shots.” He glanced back at me. “You like photography?”
“Not really.”
I moved to the front of the truck, a few paces away. We were across from the beach on the other side. Had he been here the night of the party? I couldn’t see much from that distance, but he would have been able to see the bonfire. He hadn’t ordered us to put it out.
At the moment, he was walking around the lot, staring down at the dirt, moving things around with his boots. What was he looking for? Cigarette butts? Needles? He picked up a beer can and tossed it into the firepit, then shone a flashlight through the broken door of the cabin.
“Can we go back now?”
“In a rush?”
“I’m hungry.”
He walked toward me, and I thought that meant this strange trip was finally over, but then he stopped and leaned against the hood of his truck. The sun beat down overhead, making his blond eyebrows almost invisible, his pale eyes opaque.
“Your dad and me, we had some talks. He left you on your own too much.”
“Dad knew he didn’t have to worry about me.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I bit out the word. “I know how to shoot a gun.”
“Guns are no good if a man gets you on the ground.”
“He won’t have a chance.”
“You think you can take on a man double your size, hopped up on adrenaline and God knows what else? The moment he gets you down, you have to react. Don’t stay quiet thinking that he’ll let you go after he’s done. Go for his eyes, nostrils, testicles. Use your teeth and nails.”
“Ijust saidI can protect myself. I don’t need the lessons.” He was trying to make me feel helpless, trying to creep me out. He’d been testing me the entire drive and I was sick of it.
He gave me a measured look, then stepped toward me. In one smooth motion he gripped my shoulder, swung behind my body, and pressed me back against his chest, with his arm across my throat. I struggled to twist away. He breathed in my ear. “Try and get out of it. Go on, try.”
I scrabbled at his arm, flailed my legs.
He grunted. “Raise your shoulders, tuck your chin. Reach up and get your thumb in my eye, hook my nostril. Give it a try.”
“No! Let me go!”
“Come on.” His voice growled into my ear, my skin prickling, his gun belt hard against my back. Panic made me lunge forward. His arm tightened, forcing my chin higher. I kicked back—hoping to get him in the groin—but he hooked his leg around mine. I thudded onto the dry ground. My breath whooshed out and my spine was jarred so hard my teeth clicked together.
He flipped me over and straddled my hips, lifted my arms on either side of my head. My shoulder sockets made a popping sound as the tendons slid over bone, stretched tight.
His face, right over mine. His eyes, icy blue. He looked triumphant—and terrifying. “See how easy that was? He’s going to want to get you down fast. Most women buck up, but you have to roll to the side, into their elbows.” I tried to squirm free, but his legs were steel, his face so close I could smell his aftershave and see the beads of sweat on his face.
