I turned to the door and felt his hand trying to grab my arm. Something said Don’t look back, don’t stop. Keep running. When I reached the top of the stairs, I slammed the door behind me and heard him curse as he crashed into it. I ran blindly through the house, feeling like my legs were made of lead, wondering if I’d ever reach the front door. And then finally my hand closed around the handle. I flung the door open and flew down the stone steps to the driveway.
“Stop running!” Julian shouted. “You don’t understand!”
I stumbled at the sound of his voice, scraping my palms on the gravel as I righted myself and continued running along the driveway. All I had to do was cross the road and get to the thick woods on the other side, and I’d be safe. It would be impossible for Julian to find me in the woods. My sides ached, and my lungs were on fire. I didn’t know how much longer I could keep running.
Then I heard a car horn, screeching brakes, and a loud thud. I stopped and turned to see a car stopped in the middle of the road. The driver opened his door and ran to the body lying in the road. Julian. For an instant I debated whether to go back and see how badly he was hurt, but I knew I had to get to the police and tell them what he had done.
The adrenaline pumping through my body began to ebb as I slowed to a walk. My hands stung where the gravel had bitten into them, and my face was caked with tears and dirt. I’m not sure how long I walked through the woods before I finally came to a hill that led down to a dark empty street. I turned my feet sideways, moving slowly and carefully down the steep slope until I reached the side of the single-lane road. No cars passed for what felt like an eternity. When finally I saw headlights coming toward me, I got a little closer to the road and stuck out my thumb. To my relief, a red pickup truck slowed down and stopped. The driver slid over and rolled down the passenger window. “Need a lift?”
“Yes. Thank you.” He opened the door for me, and I stepped onto the running board and pulled myself up onto the seat.
“Where you headed?” he asked, glancing briefly at me and then putting the truck in gear.
He looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties, stocky, with the start of a beer gut, his hair pulled back in a short ponytail. He reached his hand into a can on the console, scooping out a dollop of brown glop and putting it in his mouth. I realized with disgust that it was chewing tobacco, but he’d been kind enough to pick me up, so I couldn’t complain.
“Would you drive me to the nearest police station? I have to report a murder.”
He whipped his head around to look at me. “What? You some kind of crazy person?”
“Please,” I begged. “I’m not crazy. My husband murdered someone, his first wife. I have to get to a police station.”
His mouth moved in slow motion as he rolled the tobacco around and then spit a ball of brown juice into an empty water bottle. “No way. I’m not taking you to the police.”
He looked like someone who had probably had his share of run-ins with the law, so I tried another tack. “Just drop me off a few blocks from one. Or in any town center, really.”
“Nah, I don’t think so. I have a better idea.”
Little fingers of fear crept up my neck. “Please. Stop the truck. I’ll get out here.” I could hear the shakiness in my voice as I pulled on the door handle. Nothing. I kept pulling on it, but it wouldn’t budge.
He just laughed.
“Stop. Let me out. Please.”
He stared straight at the road ahead, ignoring me.
I knew I was in trouble now. I had to get out. “Look,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, “I really appreciate the ride. You were very kind to stop and pick me up. I don’t want to get you in any trouble, so I can just get out here, and you can pretend you never saw me. Okay?”
“Shut up!” He reached over and backhanded me. My head exploded in pain, and the force knocked me into the passenger door. I must have passed out, because when I looked at the dashboard clock I saw that it was two in the morning. We’d been driving for over four hours. We suddenly jerked to a stop, and I lurched forward. He turned off the engine and spit again into the water bottle. There was nothing around us except trees. No streetlights, no houses, no stores. Desolate. No help that I could see.
“Get out,” he said in a guttural voice. I heard a click as he unlocked the doors.
Shaking my head, I pushed my back harder against the seat.
“I said get out,” he snarled. He grabbed my arm and dragged me to the driver’s side and out onto the hard ground. “Get up, bitch. We gonna have some fun.” He laughed, taking hold of my arms and yanking me up to a standing position before pulling me into the woods behind him.