Page 28 of Hide My Heart
That’s when I blow my top.
Bitch stole my cell phone, too!
I punch the wall and it crumbles. Another hole in the wall to join all the other holes from my high stress situation.
I have to think. Think.
Amber probably went back to Divine.
She’s not getting away this time, except I might have gone overboard when I shot at the convenience store clerk. If the police were any good, they would be looking for me.
I stare at my image in the mirror, then take out a straight razor and lop off my beard. I’m going to catch her when she least expects it, and I’m making sure the police got nothing on me.
Amber needs to be punished. She’s gotten too big for her britches since running away.
No one runs away from me.
After I clean myself up, I put on my camouflage pants and jacket with the fur hood. The snow is deep in places, so I strap on snowshoes and hike toward my nearest neighbor. It’s a four-mile hike, but Will lives alone, and he’s wintering in Florida.
He has a big ass, monster four-wheel drive pickup and a heck of a lot of guns.
Ha, ha, he even gives me the key to watch his place, so I won’t have to break and enter. I’ll just borrow and pay him back with a big, old bear.
Yeah, that’s right. I’m going to trap me a big, brown bear, maybe get a grizzly.
I start up Will’s truck no problem. Put on the chains, stock up the guns and ammo, and I stop by my place to load up with traps. No sense leaving them out there for some critter to step in when I ain’t going to be around to shoot them.
Don’t want them to suffer none, starving to death or anything.
I got a heart for critters.
It’s people who piss me off.
SIXTEEN
Amber
I squint through Hunter’s dirtywindshield and can’t see a damn thing. My heart’s hammering, and I’m gripping the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles are white to the bone.
Where is the turnoff? I passed the last road sign miles back, and I can’t tell if I’m staying on the road or just trekking between trees. They don’t bother sanding and salting a narrow country road leading to one man’s remote cabin.
The wiper blades are swishing as fast as they can, but they need changing, because the snow is turning into freezing rain—and instead of clear glass, all I see are streaks.
Instead of dusting the trees like powdered sugar, the ice makes the tree tops sparkle with silver crystals.
It would be beautiful if I were inside a warm house with a fire in the fireplace or a log in the wood stove. I swallow my fear and keep driving. Nate said there would be no streetlamps or road signs. A private road switchbacking uphill to a remote cabin off the grid.
If only I could see where I’m going.
I switch on the high beams. It’s hard to tell whether the sun is still up, but the gloom is deepening and nightfall is around the corner.
Spooky out here too. I haven’t seen any other traffic, no headlights coming or going. Who else would be so stupid to come up this direction?
Nate’s uncle runs a resort on Lake Coeur d'Alene in the summer, but he’s down south in San Diego this time of the year.
Smart man.
Me? Not so bright.
