| |
As she fussed around in the kitchen, Kate moved to the back window for yet another glance out at the cold, dark driveway. The yard was still. No sign of Marco and Renzo. Time seemed to have stopped.
Where are they?
Her phone rang. The display showed Marco’s picture.
“Hi, baby. Where are you?”
“Kate.” Marco’s voice sounded strained.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. Her heart skipped, as she pulled her hand up to her throat. “Where’s Renzo?”
“He’s with me. We just got a flat tire.”
“Oh my God, Marco—”
“—I think somebody was following us, Kate. I don’t see any cars now. I took Arcade over near that brake place. The one where I applied for a job. Remember?”
“I think so, yes.”
“I wanted to get away from all the traffic. I have to change this damn tire—in ten-below weather—but we’ll be there as soon as I get it done. We’re gonna’ have to leave right away. I gotta’ bad feeling, Kate.”
“Me too. Do you need me to call someone?”
“No. I’ll be fine. I’ve done thousands of tire changes, this’ll be quick. Give us twenty minutes. I’ll go as fast as I can.”
“Okay. No sign of that car?”
“No. Maybe I was just imagining it.”
“Okay. Hurry up.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll be there soon. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
Kate ran upstairs to gather some last-minute items. After about a half-hour, she returned downstairs, gave the living room a once-over, then pushed through the swinging door into the kitchen.
They still weren’t home. Butterflies did a tiny dance in her gut, as she opened the back door to listen for his car, the cold air startling her. She stood at the top of the steps, hugging herself while she waited, her head tilted, as she prayed for the sound of tires turning up the driveway. But it was eerily silent, except for the occasional cracking of branches from the tense, frigid air.
She waited a couple of minutes out in the cold, straining to see headlights before finally giving in to her body’s shivers. She returned to the kitchen, but remained at the back window, waiting. Watching.
The butterflies turned to a slow flicker of panic. This was taking too long. They should have been back by now. She took her phone from her sweater’s pocket and dialed Marco’s number again.
Voicemail.
Where did he say they were? What was taking them so long?
Over a half-hour and no word. She couldn’t wait another minute. Her heart pounded in her ears. She threw on her coat and boots, as she grabbed the keys to Marco’s Mustang and her purse. She whipped open the back door, slamming it, as she ran out into the dark yard toward the car, snow cracking under her steps.
The coldest night of the season nipped its invisible claws at her ears, stinging her cheeks and burning her nostrils. The porch light did little to illuminate her path, and she tripped over something as she stumbled to the car. Her nervous legs wobbled as she struggled with the keys, climbed in, and slammed the door.
Clouds of her breath shrouded her face, the light from the house giving them a life of their own. She took in a deep breath and tried to slow her racing heart, as she started the engine. Her hands shook as she grasped the wheel. She told herself to pull it together. She carefully backed down the driveway and turned left onto Desoto heading toward Payne Avenue.
As she drove, she fumbled for her phone in her purse and hit redial.
“Come on, Marco. Pick up!” Her voice cracked.
When his voicemail message returned, she screamed into the phone.
“Marco! What is happening? Where are you guys? I’m freaking out. I’m on my way to find you. Call me as soon as you get this message.”
She was about to end the call, but before she did, she said, “I love you, babe. Hurry up and call me.”
She tossed her phone on the passenger seat and thought about Marco’s call to her. His voice. The way he sounded. It was like nothing she’d heard from him before. Panic.
Someone was following them? Who? Was it that car she saw pull out after he left?
As she headed north on Payne, she tried to remain rational. Maybe Marco had trouble changing the tire in this cold, and they started to walk. No, he would have called her to pick them up. Maybe something was wrong with his phone. She scanned the shadows and doorways along the icy sidewalks for any sign of people walking, hoping to see her husband and son, but it was apparent this cold was keeping everyone indoors.
Maybe they’d crossed paths, and Marco and Renzo were already home. That didn’t make sense, though. He would have called her. She drove the Mustang slowly, looking side-to-side and up and down each street, praying.
She headed east on Minnehaha and south on Arcade, until she came upon a couple of darkened streets to her right. She took each one before turning back and continuing down Arcade. No businesses, no houses. Nothing but masses of brittle, leafless trees and vegetation, now reduced to sticks from winter’s grip.
Finally, the brake store appeared on her right, obviously closed for the night. She continued along the lightless road, unsure where it would take her. She gripped the steering wheel as she looked to the left and then to the right, scanning for any sign of their SUV. She inched down the road, seeing nothing.
A curve in the road appeared, her headlights illuminating its dark path. She followed it slowly. As she maneuvered the bend, she let out a breath. The SUV was just ahead, pulled over on the right side of the road, lights off. Relief coursed through her body, as she choked back a lump that had been in her throat for longer than she’d realized.
She pulled up behind the SUV, her headlights shining directly into it. It was definitely her car, but there was no sign of Marco or Renzo.
