Page 34 of Waitress at the Shadow Ridge Inn
“How did you know?” I asked finally.
“I didn’t, not really. I just wanted to make sure you’d gotten home okay. You’d seemed pretty upset when you left. Then, you didn’t text, and you weren’t answering your phone.”
He paused, giving me a chance to say something, and when I didn’t, he continued, “When I saw the cottage was dark and that your car wasn’t in the drive, I started cruising the mountain roads, looking for you. I must have driven past you half a dozen times before I found you. If it hadn’t been for that bolt of lightning lighting things up at just the right moment, I might still be out there.”
“I’m so glad you did,” I said sincerely.
I couldn’t imagine anyone else looking for me. Even Angie, my best friend, had waited three days after I disappeared to call the police and report me missing. She’d said it was because she’d been avoiding me because of the thing with Henry and thought I was doing the same with her.
I gripped my mug and sipped. I’d become so paranoid; I saw malicious intent in even the most natural of things.
“Want to talk about what happened tonight?” he said softly.
“No,” I answered just as quietly. “But I would like you to stay for a little while longer, if that’s okay.”
“I told you, I’m not going anywhere.”
13
Cold rain hitsmy skin and into my already-soaked clothes, bringing me back to consciousness. I realize I must have passed out again.
I couldn’t breathe. Why couldn’t I breathe?
Hands reach out and grab at me, dragging me out of the pool of water I am lying in. Pain explodes through my chest as something hits me with hard, powerful thrusts. Suddenly, I’m violently expelling water from my lungs. I feel myself being rolled roughly onto my side as I cough and sputter, my lungs and throat and nose burning with liquid fire.
Spent and exhausted, I’m on my back again, looking up at a solid, hooded shadow. A black smudge in the dark. It looks roughly human-shaped, but my vision is blurry and I can’t make out any features. My delusional brain connects the dots and comes up with … the Grim Reaper.
“Death?” I rasp. I certainly feel like I am dying.
My companion says nothing.
Death examines me, running leathery fingers over my face, along my arms and legs. I howl—or try to—when he attempts to lift me.
The pain is excruciating. I can’t stand it.
“Have mercy. Make it stop,” I beg.
Death says something in a low voice, but the words are lost in my screams. Then he’s gone…
I bolted upright,the scream lodged in my throat. Disoriented and still in the grips of the vivid dream—memory?—I glanced around frantically, ready to lash out.
I was in my bedroom, in my bed, alone.
I took deep breaths, wincing when I felt the aches up and down my body. It took me a minute to remember why I hurt. Right. My car had gone off the road, and I was knocked around. Steve had found me and brought me back here. He must have carried me to my bed after I fell asleep on the couch.
I shook my head to clear away the last vestiges of my nightmare, immediately regretting it when my neck screamed in protest. Being slammed by an airbag inflating at over one hundred miles an hour could do that.
Gingerly swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I slowly got to my feet. I attempted a gentle stretch and twist to alleviate the stiffness, pleased when nothing protested overmuch.
I shuffled my way to the bathroom and glanced at my reflection. I didn’t looktooworse for wear, all things considered. The dark purplish circles under my eyes wouldn’t win me any beauty contests, but liberal use of concealer and foundation would go a long way in making them less noticeable.
As I brushed my teeth and washed my face, I wondered if anyone else knew about what had happened. Shadow Ridge was a small town, and everyone knew everyone else’s business, but I didn’t think Steve was the type to run and tell.
Well, if they didn’t already know, they would soon because I had to see about getting my car towed and fixed.
I ran a comb through my hair, then gathered the mess into a big clip. I’d worry about making myself presentable after coffee and another dose of ibuprofen.
I ventured into the kitchen to do just that. I spotted the neatly folded blanket and pillow on the couch and smiled. Steve had stuck around, just like he’d said he would.
