And what’s worse, I can hear the man’s footsteps behind me.
I quicken my pace. I don’t know what he wants, but it can’t be anything good. There are about twenty feet between me and my car. I’ve just got to make it twenty feet. I hit the key fob and my car lights up. Almost there.
But then a brawny hand grabs my shoulder.
Chapter 5
“Quinn?”
He knows my name. This random stranger at a gas station is calling me by my name. Of course, the old man read it off my credit card, so he might’ve heard him. But as I whirl around to confront him, I see the recognition on his face.
“Quinn, right?” he says again.
“Um…” I look down at my plastic bag of groceries, then back up at his face. Despite the man’s size, there’s nothing menacing about his facial expression. “Yes…”
He grins at me. “I’m Bill Walsh. Billy. You used to babysit for me.”
My mouth falls open. That was the absolute last thing I expected him to say. “Oh.”
He rubs his hands together. “Do you remember me?”
I babysat a lot of kids when I was a teenager. The name Billy Walsh sounds mildly familiar. But I’m guessing this hulking man looks a lot different than he did when he was a kid. “Sure,” I lie.
His eyes light up. “You were my favorite babysitter. You always let me have as many cookies as I wanted.”
I’m not sure if that’s the way I want to be remembered, but it could be worse. But it’s troubling that even with my hair a different color than when I was younger and hacked into a bob and a hood mostly concealing it, he still recognized me. Apparently, I’m not quite as incognito as I had hoped.
“Also…” His eyes twinkle. “I had a huge crush on you. I bet you knew.”
It’s cold and raining, and all I want is to get back on the road. “No, I didn’t.”
“Huh.” He scratches at the back of his head. He’s not wearing a hood like I am or even a hat. Isn’t he cold? “Well, anyway, maybe we can get together sometime. Catch up on old times?”
My cheeks burn. I can’t believe this. I stopped at a gas station in the middle of nowhere, and suddenly I’m having a conversation with a kid I babysat for fifteen years ago, who is now inexplicably asking me out on a date.
“Actually,” I say, “I’m moving up to Vermont. So I won’t be local anymore.” I shrug. “But it was nice seeing you again, Billy.”
His face falls. “Oh. But maybe I could get your number and—”
“Sorry,” I say.
Without waiting for a response, I turn and walk the rest of the way to my car. I don’t hazard a look behind me until I’m at the driver’s side door. He’s still standing there, watching me.
Damn, I wish I hadn’t thrown my phone in his pickup truck. I had been hoping he was some guy from way out of town, in the opposite direction of where I wanted to go. I wanted that phone to take the police on a wild goose chase. But if he’s headed back where I come from, it will take them all of five minutes to figure out my phone is in the back of his truck.
Worse, he’ll be able to give the police an updated description of me. He can tell them I cut my hair. All the more reason I have to get hair dye as soon as possible. And maybe I need to hack my hair off a bit shorter. I always wanted a pixie cut. I almost laugh as I imagine the look on Derek’s face if I had come home with a pixie cut. But it wouldn’t have been funny back then. Not even a little.
As I pull onto the road, Billy Walsh is still staring after me. No, he’s definitely not going to forget me. I made a huge mistake pulling over here.
Maybe I should head back. It’s not too late. I could go home and confess to the police what I did. It’s better if I confess than if they discover it themselves. Better than trying to escape during what is possibly turning into a blizzard.
But I don’t turn around.
_____
At about five-thirty, the sun dropped precipitously in the sky. By two hours into my drive, it’s pitch black. I can just hardly see the road in front of me with my windshield wipers going full blast. I’m the only car on the road, so I put on my brights. If I get in a car wreck, I’m finished.
I don’t know what to do. I had hoped to keep driving for at least seven or eight hours without stopping, but the Corolla won’t make it much further. I wish I had bought a bigger car. But who knew I’d be fleeing a murder scene?
I suspect the right thing to do is to pull off the highway. Find a quiet place and sleep in the car. I’ve got my cheese doodles and my Oreos, which isn’t exactly nourishing, but it will get me through the night. But where can I pull over around here?