that’s what. “Didn’t hurt you,” she muttered, mustering exhausted dignity to pull at the tire chains.
He grabbed them away from her in one big mass and dumped them into her truck bed. “I’m not kidding. You’re not going anywhere alone. I’ll follow you to a safe place to leave that thing and then I’ll take you to the Bluefield hospital.”
“I’m not waiting,” she told him, opening the truck door to fumble around for her keys. She could drive one-handed if she had to, even on these curves. For a while, at least. And somewhere in here she had Goldfish crackers.
He stood frozen a moment, then gave a bemused shake of his head. “Hey,” he said. “About that cliff thing. You’re welcome.”
“Yeah,” she said, climbing in behind the wheel. “About getting those tire chains back down to you while Mr. Mad Sheep Man was tossing me around…you’re welcome.”
He shook his head again. This time it looked like a more subtle version of throwing his hands up. “I’ll catch up with the local LEOs later.”
She couldn’t help a smirk. “Let him explain about the leg-hold trap on his arm…yeah. And oh—tell them he doesn’t really have Mad Sheep disease, whatever he says.”
That stopped him short. He held her gaze a long moment. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll tell them. But boy, do we have to talk.”
“Yeah,” she told him. “That goes both ways. And I want food before we go to the hospital. No way I’m going to wait on an empty stomach. And no way I’m eating hospital crap.”
This time he held up his hands for real, total capitulation. “You win.”
She gave him a victory smile. But as she shut the door and started the truck, she looked at what her life had become and she suddenly wasn’t so sure.
Dave took Ellen to a truck stop just outside of Bluefield. She ordered a huge breakfast and savored each bite. For a while he just watched her. The way she ate, the way she interacted with those near her, the way her gaze flicked around to keep tabs on those around her. If he hadn’t known she’d spent the night out on a cliff face… Oh, her appearance was ragged enough—scuffed, torn and dirty clothing, her cheek scraped, her left arm tucked protectively into her lap. Her eyes gave away the most—no longer piercing, but rimmed with exhaustion. Not quite the same face as the one he’d once interviewed…but she’d mentioned that the accident had broken some facial bones. Not the same demeanor, either.
In fact, she was someone a little bit different with everyone to whom she spoke. To the older man who’d seated them, she’d been a daughter figure. To the waitress, a sister. To the trucker who’d hesitated long enough to give her a questioning once-over, dismissive enough so the man had turned away, not so blatant that he’d taken offense.
So there was plenty to look at. Plenty to ponder. And Ellen, even stiff and battered and grimy and exhausted, was still striking enough to catch Dave’s eye by surprise time after time. More vibrant than she’d been before. It made him wonder if she’d been abused by Longsford…if now he saw what she would have been like without the man’s influence. Or if—
“The accident really changed you,” he said, though he hadn’t meant to speak out loud at all.
She looked at him with one of those dry expressions, the eyebrow raised, her wide mouth quirked up at one corner in a way that emphasized the unusually straight line where her lips met. “You’re just now figuring it out?”
“I’m sorry about the tracker,” he said, and took a sip of his coffee. Unleaded, because he didn’t need any more caffeine for a week. Maybe two. “It was insurance against Longsford’s men. I didn’t mention it because…frankly, I didn’t want you to think I was concerned about keeping you safe.”
“I’m sorry, too,” she said crisply, taking a slug of milk. White foam traced the left half of her upper lip. “There’s only one moment you
He grabbed them away from her in one big mass and dumped them into her truck bed. “I’m not kidding. You’re not going anywhere alone. I’ll follow you to a safe place to leave that thing and then I’ll take you to the Bluefield hospital.”
“I’m not waiting,” she told him, opening the truck door to fumble around for her keys. She could drive one-handed if she had to, even on these curves. For a while, at least. And somewhere in here she had Goldfish crackers.
He stood frozen a moment, then gave a bemused shake of his head. “Hey,” he said. “About that cliff thing. You’re welcome.”
“Yeah,” she said, climbing in behind the wheel. “About getting those tire chains back down to you while Mr. Mad Sheep Man was tossing me around…you’re welcome.”
He shook his head again. This time it looked like a more subtle version of throwing his hands up. “I’ll catch up with the local LEOs later.”
She couldn’t help a smirk. “Let him explain about the leg-hold trap on his arm…yeah. And oh—tell them he doesn’t really have Mad Sheep disease, whatever he says.”
That stopped him short. He held her gaze a long moment. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll tell them. But boy, do we have to talk.”
“Yeah,” she told him. “That goes both ways. And I want food before we go to the hospital. No way I’m going to wait on an empty stomach. And no way I’m eating hospital crap.”
This time he held up his hands for real, total capitulation. “You win.”
She gave him a victory smile. But as she shut the door and started the truck, she looked at what her life had become and she suddenly wasn’t so sure.
Dave took Ellen to a truck stop just outside of Bluefield. She ordered a huge breakfast and savored each bite. For a while he just watched her. The way she ate, the way she interacted with those near her, the way her gaze flicked around to keep tabs on those around her. If he hadn’t known she’d spent the night out on a cliff face… Oh, her appearance was ragged enough—scuffed, torn and dirty clothing, her cheek scraped, her left arm tucked protectively into her lap. Her eyes gave away the most—no longer piercing, but rimmed with exhaustion. Not quite the same face as the one he’d once interviewed…but she’d mentioned that the accident had broken some facial bones. Not the same demeanor, either.
In fact, she was someone a little bit different with everyone to whom she spoke. To the older man who’d seated them, she’d been a daughter figure. To the waitress, a sister. To the trucker who’d hesitated long enough to give her a questioning once-over, dismissive enough so the man had turned away, not so blatant that he’d taken offense.
So there was plenty to look at. Plenty to ponder. And Ellen, even stiff and battered and grimy and exhausted, was still striking enough to catch Dave’s eye by surprise time after time. More vibrant than she’d been before. It made him wonder if she’d been abused by Longsford…if now he saw what she would have been like without the man’s influence. Or if—
“The accident really changed you,” he said, though he hadn’t meant to speak out loud at all.
She looked at him with one of those dry expressions, the eyebrow raised, her wide mouth quirked up at one corner in a way that emphasized the unusually straight line where her lips met. “You’re just now figuring it out?”
“I’m sorry about the tracker,” he said, and took a sip of his coffee. Unleaded, because he didn’t need any more caffeine for a week. Maybe two. “It was insurance against Longsford’s men. I didn’t mention it because…frankly, I didn’t want you to think I was concerned about keeping you safe.”
“I’m sorry, too,” she said crisply, taking a slug of milk. White foam traced the left half of her upper lip. “There’s only one moment you
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