and stabbed the brakes, locking the wheels.
The old woman stood her ground. Sarah caught a glimpse of a weathered black face, caught in the headlights, as the car went into a spin, roaring past the woman. She thumped harder on the brakes. The car whipped around and she was going backwards, with the car continuing its rubber-burning-sliding spin off the road.
She screamed as the Corvette’s wheels threw dirt into the air, praying as brush scrapped and screeched along the side of the car. Then it was over. The car came to a sliding halt, dying before she had a chance to get the clutch in.
“ Damn.” She turned around to see if the woman was all right. There was no one there.
She sat in silence and took in the sky, cloudy toward town and the ocean, clear overhead. Her heart was running flat out, pumping like the well would never go dry. She was on an adrenaline high and reveled in it. The old woman was out of her memory. Forgotten. Like she’d never been there.
“ Damn,” she said, again, “I loved it.” She leaned back and faced the Big Dipper and was rewarded with a shooting star cutting across the heavens. She remained in her euphoric trance for about ten minutes, daydreaming and drinking in the night. She felt like she should be in the lotus position. She felt like she’d just had a religious experience. And she was getting cold.
“ Home,” she told the night. She turned the key. The car roared to life, like the thoroughbred it was. Then it died. She turned the key again.
Nothing.
She thought about walking over to the motel and asking him for help, but decided against it. She would wait and let the car cool down. It would start then. It was brand new. It couldn’t be anything major.
A spasm knotted her neck. She massaged it, rocking her head back and forth. That’s when she saw something. Out back, behind the motel, looking in one of the bathroom windows-a peeping Tom. She was quite a distance away, but it was a clear night and floodlights in the parking lot were on. It was the woman, the old black woman.
Her first impulse was to shout, but she didn’t-she watched. Her second was to mind her own business, but she was fascinated. Her third was to get out of the car and to spy on the spy. She was just too curious. The peeping woman moved around to the other side of the building and Sarah gave in to her curiosity.
She felt a school-girl-first-date thrill run through her as she opened the door and stepped out of the car. She walked toward the building, counting her steps. She’d always been a counter. She counted everything, from the floor tiles in the Greyhound bus station to the number of steps between the bank and the beauty parlor. It was habit.
At ten steps, she wondered why nobody came rushing from the motel when she went squealing off the street. Then she remembered that the straight stretch of road, from the motel to where Solitude River Road started curving along the river toward Tampico, was used by the kids as the local drag strip. Her screeching tires probably didn’t sound out of place.
At twenty steps, she began to wonder about the old woman. How and why did she vanish so fast?
At thirty steps, she thought about him.
At forty steps, she’d covered half the distance and began to question the wisdom of what she was doing. That wolf was still around somewhere. It didn’t make sense to be sneaking around like last night had never happened.
At fifty steps, she slowed down and at step sixty-one, she stopped and listened to the soundless night.
The lights from the motel suddenly sent goose bumps running up her arms. She took two steps back. Stopped. Listened to her heartbeat and the silence. She heard the buzzing sound of a big rig eating up Highway 1 off in the distance. She stayed rock still, till the buzzing turned into a roar. She covered her eyes, as the big truck’s brights sliced through the night.
She stayed that way, tall and still, her hair wisping in a slight breeze, till the truck was again only a buzzing in the distance. Maybe the woman was gone, she thought, but maybe she wasn’t. Who was she and what was she up to? She had to know.
She inhaled the night air. No more counting. She jogged the remainder of the way to the motel, not stopping till she reached the asphalt parking lot. She stopped by a white Toyota, to catch her breath, when she heard a noise around the side of the motel. The woman? She darted to the side of the building and scurried along the wall. She was a spy after a secret. She felt like a teenager. Her blood started delivering more oxygen to her brain as her heart accelerated. She was exhilarated. Excited. Nothing should come in the way of a secret.
She stopped at the corner, took a silent breath and inched her head along the wall toward the edge, her cheek brushing against the cool stucco. She wondered who it was, this old woman that peeked in motel windows. Who was she and what did she see?
She poked her eye around the ridge.
There was no one there and all of the bathroom windows were closed.
“ Damn,” she whispered, turning away from the motel. She started across the parking lot, and at a fifty-eight steps back toward the car, she stopped and gazed at her beauty. Long, low, sleek, and red. The kind of car she’d wanted all her life and only dreamed about. If only Miles, and his Volvo mentality, could see her now. At seventy steps, she stopped again.
She thought she saw movement on the other side of the car. She took five cautious steps forward, squinting through the night. “Is somebody there?” Five more steps, slower than the last, eyes straining, heart again beginning to race. “Who’s there?” Still no response.
“ You better not hurt my car,” she said. What a stupid thing to say, she thought. “Did you hear me? Get away from the car.” She was shouting as she took ten more steps toward the Corvette.
She stopped again. She was well over halfway back to the car, no longer protected by the bright overhead lights of the motel. A small part of her worried about who could be waiting for her, hiding behind her car, like a mugger. But that’s ridiculous, she thought. There were no muggers in Palma or Tampico.
“ I said, get away from the car.” She took five more cautious steps, thought about the highway, and stopped again. Whoever was hiding behind her car may not be from town at all. He may have come on the highway.
She saw movement again. Her car door opened and someone got out. He called her name in a raspy, throaty voice that sent shivers crawling along her skin. She turned and fled, because she knew that whoever he was, he was coming after her.
She stumbled, fell, and scraped her knees. She jumped up and continued running. She heard great clomping, stomping steps as it got closer. Thud, thud, thud, big feet pounding the earth. She felt like her lungs were going to pop. She gasped for air and struggled to keep running. She felt hot breath on the back of her neck as she plunged onto the road.
She was blinded by the lights of the huge metal monster bearing down on her, blaring its horn, as it roared off the highway. She screamed as a huge hand grabbed her by the arm, jerking her out of the way of the tanker truck carrying gasoline to the service stations of Palma and Tampico.
She got out the beginnings of another scream, before a strong hand clamped across her mouth, cutting it off, choking her. She bit it and the attacker jumped back, releasing her.
“ Shit, you bit me,” the voice rasped.
Once free, she whirled around to flee.
“ It’s okay, Sarah, I won’t hurt you.”
“ You?” she said. This was a man that would never cut and run. She looked into his eyes and saw the pain there. He was a worried man. She was both afraid of him, and fascinated by him, and she was hopelessly drawn in to the churning green sea behind those troubled eyes.
“ Yeah.” He released his hold on her arm.
“ You chased me.”
“ I had to stop you from killing yourself.”
“ What are you talking about?”
“ The truck.”
“ Oh, that.” She turned to look at its taillights fading in the distance. The truck went around the first bend and the lights were gone. For the second time in less than twenty-four hours she was almost killed by a tanker truck.
