Chapter 1

The Next Afternoon

Alla Diritta: In direct motion (Ital.)

I drummed my finger faster on the steering wheel. Stop that, Cressa. It was an old nervous habit that just made me more anxious. The CD in my car stereo was beginning to rattle me. Moussorgsky’s Night on Bald Mountain’s spooky, ominous strains were too much like my surroundings: mile after mile of identical, disorienting Illinois cornfields, interrupted only by dark clumps of trees huddled on stray hillsides.

And now I had a tailgater. It was time to admit I was lost. It was getting dark and if I didn’t reach my grandmother’s soon, I’d… well, what would I do? I hadn’t passed a motel since leaving Moline. Pull over and sleep in the car?

As I rounded a curve and the road straightened, the headlights of the car behind me flashed in my rearview mirror, blinding me for a second and yanking a cuss word out of my mouth. The jerk had been on my tail for at least twenty miles and wouldn’t pass me. A sudden thought stilled my dancing fingers. Was it my ex-boyfriend Len? The thought was too unsettling, and I was already starting to lose it. I needed to concentrate on getting there.

Because I’d ridden to Alpha dozens of times as a child to swim in the lake where Gram always kept a membership, I assumed I’d just magically know the way there. Wrong. Where the hell was I? My gut clenched. Time to phone a friend.

I reached into my purse on the passenger seat and felt around for my cell phone. Dammit, that idiot behind me had just flashed his brights. Why did he do that? There was no way I was going to pull over to see if there was something wrong with the car.

Where was that cell phone? Had I lost it again? I dumped the entire contents of my purse onto the seat and grabbed the cell. Its name was Peter the Mediocre. He wasn’t a Great cell phone. I punched in the familiar numbers. The phone buzzed twice. Neek answered on the third ring. Thank God. My shoulders relaxed a notch.

“Hi, Cressa. Wait a minute.” She panted a couple of times. “I gotta catch my breath. Doing… extreme yoga.”

“Extreme yoga? I see how that’s something that would appeal to you, Neek.”

“You should try it, Cress.” Another pant. “What’s up? Where are you now? Hey, I have good news.”

“I don’t know where I am and I’m being tailgated. That’s why I called you.” I tried to take the tremor out of my voice. “These cornfields go on forever. Why can’t I ever win the lottery and get a GPS for my car?”

“Don’t whine, Cressa.” She chuckled. “And be patient.” She told me that a lot. “When the omens are right, you’ll win.”

I felt better talking to her. Neek was my best friend and lived in my apartment building. I’d asked her to handle my mail and plants when I’d fled Chicago earlier that day.

“I don’t think that latest ‘if-I-can’t-have-you’ note from Len was a good omen,” I said. Those notes, slipped under my door at night, were getting more frequent—and more frightening.

“He’ll never find you in Alpha, don’t worry. And, speaking of omens, this one’s divine.” Her little-girl voice squeaked with excitement. “Listen, Cress, I found a quarter outside your apartment door right after you left. You know what that means.”

“No, I don’t. This is your good news?” Neek was a sweet person and a true friend, but she tended to find omens in the strangest things. Last week she’d been foretelling the future by the clouds.

“Yep. A quarter. That’s big stuff. Big changes for you. Oh, Cressa, this fits right in with you finally going to visit your grandmother. I’m so glad you’re doing this.”

I eased my foot off the gas. The car behind me slowed, too.

“Are you near your computer?” I asked her. “I need you to tell me if I should go through Ophiem or just drive on past it? Nothing has looked familiar since the Quad Cities.”

I had driven across the floor of a wide valley, then climbed a gentle hill. The name of the town, Ophiem, was so familiar I thought I should drive through it. I turned onto the smaller road toward the town. But that soon felt wrong. And the car still trailed me. I made a sudden U-turn on the local road into Ophiem and headed back toward Highway 150. That should shake him.

A glance in the rearview mirror told me no one was following now. I let out a relieved breath.

I would breathe even easier if I knew what kind of reception Gram would give me. I had tried calling three times to tell her I might be coming, but I hadn’t been able to reach her. Preferring anyway to see her face to face for our first real conversation, I was relieved and left a few brief messages. She would be glad to see me, wouldn’t she? My burst of self-congratulation, at being the first to capitulate and end our feud, was fast giving way to doubt.

“I can’t wait to see her face when she realizes I’m actually at her cabin,” I said. “Unless she doesn’t want to see me.”

“You’re her favorite grandchild. She’ll want to see you. Promise me you won’t mention the piano.”

“Okay. Not at first, anyway.”

“Hey, I’m just glad you’re going to see her.”

I swallowed a lump in my throat, put there by her soft sympathy. “So am I. So am I.”

“That’s what this quarter must mean, a good surprise. And, by the way, that ficus of yours is dying of thirst.”

I wanted to kill two birds: get away from Len’s harassment and surprise Gram. Well, maybe three birds. A quiet, rural lake should be a good place to finish this piece of music. I’d been stalled on it for weeks, and my teaching job this fall depended on it. I hoped Gram would once again serve as my muse.

“Did you go through Orion?” Neek pronounced it like the constellation.

“It’s ORE-ion,” I remembered from years ago, “and yes, that was awhile—”

“Yep, the highway goes right past a town called Ophiem. You’re almost there.”

“Past, not through, right?”

“Right. A straight shot down Highway One-Fifty. Unless you’re on the interstate?”

“No, I’m back on track. Thanks, Neek. I’ll call you tonight.”

“Tell me all about her new cabin when you get there.”

“Her ‘cute’ little cabin?” My lip involuntarily curled into a sneer.

“Yes. And give your Gram a big hug from me.”

A glint caught my rearview mirror. I flinched and blinked. Then I saw headlights close behind me. The hair on the nape of my neck raised. Was it the same car? I slowed again to try to shake it.

“I’ll give her hugs from both of us. You know, Neek, I think a car really is following me. It’s been behind me ever since I passed the Quad City airport. I hope it’s not …”

“Len?”

“I don’t know. The car kinda looks like his, but how could it be? He has no idea I’m here.”

“Well, I saw—”

“Neek, are you there? Neek?” I’d lost her. I tossed Peter the Mediocre in the direction of my purse. Cell phones were so useless. Mine was usually either lost, or out of juice, or dropping calls.