Fool for Love (34 page)

“Not if you’re coming from Tasha and Randall’s house.”

Devlin massaged his temple. “What was she doing over there?”

“Something to do with the photo shoot.”

Christ.

“It’s been raining here in Pixley all day. Chloe’s a nervous Nelly behind the wheel on a clear day. What if she got lost? What if she spun off the road?”

He glanced at his watch. Close to one.
Shit.
“She’s probably taking it slow.” Although it didn’t sit well that she was a half hour overdue, he didn’t want Daisy to panic.

“I’ve been trying to call her for an hour.”

“She gets sketchy reception up here.” He’d been meaning to talk to her about another server. Especially if she was going to stay on in Sugar Creek, which he realized he’d been assuming for more than a week now. He
wanted
her to stay.

“I know that, Devlin,” Gram snapped. “Even worse. If she’s in trouble, she won’t be able to call anyone. And it’s not like there’ll be a lot of traffic so that she can wave someone down. Most folks steer clear of those roads when the weather’s bad. I blame that pinhead Tasha!”

So did Devlin. Directing anyone, especially a Flatlander, to that route during inclement weather had been thoughtless.

Or calculated.

“I’m sure everything’s fine, Gram,” he said, even though he wasn’t.

“I have a bad feeling.”

So did he, dammit. Simply because Chloe had proven herself a lightning rod for disaster. He thought about his grandma’s fragile condition, her previous heart attack. “I need you to calm down. I’m on this.”

“What was Tasha thinking?”

“I don’t know.” But he’d find out. “I’ll call you with updates. You call me if Chloe shows.”

“Deal.”

He disconnected, then accessed his contacts, but before he could dial Tasha, Rocky called.

“Spoke with Monica a few minutes ago. She had a voice mail from Chloe. Said she’s cutting through Thrush—”

“I know. I just got off the phone with Gram.”

“So that’s why I couldn’t get through to her. Is Chloe there?”

“Not yet.”

“She’s a half hour late, Dev.”

“I know.”

“I checked the weather service and there are some road closings due to flooding. Maybe she took an alternate route or maybe she turned back. I’d feel better if I knew which road she took to begin with. I tried calling Tasha but keep getting her voice mail. Bitch is probably ignoring my calls.”

“She won’t ignore mine. Relax, Sis. I’m on it.” He disconnected and dialed the woman who’d slithered her way under his skin for two full months before he’d seen through her scheming seduction. Sure enough, she answered on the first ring. “You sent Chloe to Pixley via Thrush?”

“Well, good afternoon to you, too, Dev,” she answered in a husky drawl.

“Birch Road or Route Two-Oh-One?”

“Birch Road, of course. It’s the most direct.”

It was also the more remote of the two. Hoping Chloe had miscalculated her estimated arrival time, he pressed for more specifics. “What time did she leave?”

“I don’t know why you’re being so rude, Dev. Chloe’s the one who insisted Daisy be included in the photo submission. I came up with a way. I even loaned her my expensive camera and baked a special batch of cupcakes.”

“And provided her with the most dangerous route to Pixley.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“When’s the last time you took that road during a rain- or snowstorm?”

“If you’re insinuating—”

“What the fuck time did she leave?”

“Around noon,” she snapped.

He cut her off before telling her off. She wasn’t worth the time or energy. At least not now. He turned and saw his diligent right hand maneuvering a bucket beneath a new steady drip of rain.
Dammit.
“Do me a favor, Chris. Call Sam. See what he can do about the roof. Then call and light a fire under Cal’s ass.”

Chris raised a brow. “Trouble elsewhere?”

“Maybe.” He quickly processed his options. Chloe hadn’t been missing long enough to call the police. Nor did he have proof that anything was seriously wrong. Still, he couldn’t shake an ominous feeling and waiting and worrying had never been his style. “I need to leave for a while and there’s a possibility we might need to reschedule the employee meeting.”

“Considering all the planning you put into tonight, must be urgent. Is it Daisy?”

“No. But it does concern family.” Similar to his feelings about Jayce, Devlin felt connected to Chloe in a way that went beyond blood. Temples pounding, he thought about the road conditions, considered the rental sedan he was driving because Rocky’s Jeep was still in the shop and she had his SUV. He called Leo. “I’m desperate for a four-wheel drive. What’ve you got?”

THIRTY-TWO

On any other day … Strike that. On a clear, sunny day Chloe would’ve enjoyed the scenic drive through the slopes of Thrush Mountain. The dense wooded area popped with fall foliage. Or rather it would have popped on a dry, sunny day. Just now the bold leaves were dulled by a silvery mist. Between the oppressive black clouds and the leafy canopy, daylight was practically nonexistent. She guessed the temperature was in the low fifties and had even cranked up the Caddy’s old heater. She wasn’t sure if she was chilled because of the weather or because of the stressful drive. Though it was a decent, paved road, there were several sharp curves, and since the ground was saturated from several days of rain low-lying sections were flooded. She’d slowed to a crawl, worrying about stalling the engine, every time she pushed through one of those pools of water.

Then there was the wildlife. So far she’d spied several deer grazing amongst the trees. What if one darted in front of her? The thought of harming an animal made her stomach turn, and she wasn’t crazy about dinging up Daisy’s car either.

At one point Chloe had considered turning back for Sugar Creek, but the road was just as ugly behind her as ahead and she was actually closer to Pixley, so she’d sucked it up and forged on. Plus, she was anxious to see Daisy. Not just because she needed to take her picture but also to make sure she was truly okay. Although they’d spoken on the phone, Chloe hadn’t seen her since the accident.

Speaking of phones, Chloe glanced down and, for the hundredth time in the past hour, took stock of her signal. One bar. Better than zip, but it didn’t mean she’d get through. She’d tried at least five other times. Still, she tried again. Daisy was no doubt worried because Chloe was running late. The call failed. She blew out a frustrated breath, gave it another few minutes, then tried again. This time she dialed Devlin. For some reason she was desperate to hear his deep, confident voice. It rang once, twice …—“Come on, come on”—… warbled, then silence. “Dammit.”

She tossed the phone on the seat, then repositioned the pillow under her butt, trying to raise herself up for the best view over the dash. Not for the first time, she wondered if Daisy would consider buying a newer car, a smaller car, something with electric adjustable seats and a shorter hood. That’s the kind of car she’d get if she stayed on in Sugar Creek. Not to mention a different phone server with better reception!

Rolling back tense shoulders, Chloe tried to fend off the creepy feeling of isolation. Was she the only person brave or stupid enough to take this route? She hadn’t seen another car for twenty minutes. She reached for the dial on the old-fashioned radio. At least she had music to keep her company, although she was sick of mellow rock. She skimmed over static, heavy metal, and disco, hoping to find a news channel and mention of the weather. The winds had picked up and she’d swear those black clouds looked as if they were about to explode.
Again.

Just then something caught her eye. Squirrel? Chipmunk? A small furry thing with a fluffy tail darted halfway across, then back, then changed his mind again.

She screamed and swerved at the same time, losing control as the tires slid over mud and rain-slick asphalt. The back end whipped around and in the moment her brain raced to remember which direction to turn the steering wheel the front end lurched down a small slope and slammed into a tree.

Chloe lurched forward as well, and though she was wearing a seat belt, her chest and shoulders slammed into the steering wheel—no air bag. Then she bounced back and left, smacking her head against the driver’s window.

Dazed, she closed her eyes and resisted the urge to puke. Her pulse hammered and her lungs burned. After what seemed like forever, the panic subsided and she slowly took stock. No blood or broken bones. She didn’t know about the squirrel.

The hood of the Caddy was buckled and steam hissed from the engine. Heartsick, she put the car in reverse and tried to back out onto the road; the wheels spun and the engine ground. She paused, then tried again. More spinning. More grinding.

Head throbbing, she pushed open the door and stepped outside. Her pink boots squished into thick mud and a fierce gust of wind whipped her hair from her clammy face. Rubbing her goose-pimpled arms, she inspected the damage. The front fender was crushed and the hood half-mangled. All four tires were mired in thick mud.

The car was stuck and so was she. In the freaking middle of nowhere. Temples throbbing, she climbed up on the road, looked both ways. No cars. No houses.

Don’t panic.

Hoping against hope, she reached back into the car and nabbed her phone. One bar. She slogged through the mud, a little to the left, then two steps north.

Two bars!

As she looked at the mangled car all she could think was,
Devlin’s going to kill me.
Still her first instinct was to call him. Her heart raced as the phone rang … once … then …

Silence.

“Are you kidding me?” She sloshed through more mud, hoping to reestablish the signal, and suddenly the ground gave way and she was on her back sliding down a muddy slope. Knocked breathless, she clawed at brush to slow her descent. She didn’t slide far, but with enough force that her left foot jammed and lodged beneath a fallen tree trunk. No matter how hard she tugged, she couldn’t free her ankle.

She fell back in the soggy muck, trying to catch her breath and wits. She’d lost her phone in the tumble.
Great.
And her foot was wedged tight.
Trapped.

Her mind blurred and she had an awful thought. What if this was it? Alone in the wilderness, trapped, vulnerable to the elements, to wildlife. Other than deer and squirrels, what other creatures roamed these woods?

What if my number is up?

She’d followed all her passions and whims, pursued all of her dreams. She’d crammed a boatload of life into thirty-one years. Nothing was left undone.

Feeling more nauseous by the moment, Chloe pushed herself up and shoved at the tree trunk, only it wouldn’t budge. She clawed at the ground, trying to dig her foot free, except thick, slimy mud kept seeping in and slowing her efforts.

Panicked, her mind grappled for something left undone.

Fixing things between her and her dad.

Marriage. Children.

Devlin.

Her disoriented brain flashed on an image. Driving through Sugar Creek this morning, the huge sign in the window of Gemma’s Bakery:
OUT OF BUSINESS.
She had a fleeting vision, latched onto another dream.

Goals!

A wave of dizziness overwhelmed her digging efforts. Light-headed, she wilted. Flat on her back, breathing in the pungent scents of nature, she pondered her condition. She’d hit her head twice. Concussion? She struggled to stay alert.

That’s when she felt it. Fat, cold raindrops.

And heard it. The thunderous rumbling of another storm.

And sensed it. Someone watching her.

Bleary-eyed, she craned her head to the left.
Holy …

She recognized it from the special display at J.T.’s. The mugs. The ball caps and socks.

A moose.

Only he didn’t look cute as much as intimidating.

Twelve-hundred-odd pounds of furry wild animal. And he was headed straight her way. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. At least her death, she thought as consciousness faded, like her life, wouldn’t be boring.

*   *   *

By the time Devlin spotted the Cadillac, it was nearly three o’clock, although it looked closer to dusk. Visibility sucked. Driving the Hummer he’d borrowed from Leo’s personal collection, Devlin had hauled ass until hitting Birch Road; then he’d slowed for two reasons. First, he was eyeing every logging road, rest stop, and inch of Thrush, hoping to spy the Caddy. Second, it was raining buckets and there were several flooded areas. He’d barely gotten through.

Up until now he’d been calm, focused on the drive, focused on finding Chloe. Seeing the wrecked car rattled his composure. Pulling the Hummer to the side of the road, he eyed the damage, assuring himself it didn’t look that bad. Chloe was probably shaken but fine, taking shelter in the car until another motorist happened by. Willing his heart to settle in his chest, he zipped up his fleece-lined rain jacket and stepped out, his waterproof hiking boots sinking into ankle-deep mud.

Squinting against the pelting rain, he hurried to the Caddy and opened the door. No Chloe. “What the hell?” Her purse was on the front-seat floor, along with a camera case and cupcake container. Probably slid off the seat when she hit the trees. Her slicker was on the backseat. Either she was walking around in the storm without a coat or someone had picked her up. The thought of her alone with a stranger, possibly someone unscrupulous, sent his pulse into overdrive. He nabbed the polka-dot coat and slammed the door. “Chloe!”

Goddammit.

He searched in all directions, cursing the rain, the situation.
Tasha.
“Chloe! Where are you?”

“Here! Down here!”

Her voice was shaky and muted by rolling thunder but loud enough to give him direction. He made his way down a slope, grabbing onto branches to steady his footing. When he saw her, his heart pounded like a mother.

She was sitting on the ground, huddled over, arms wrapped around her knees as if trying to keep warm. No wonder. All she was wearing was a thin flowery dress and a short little sweater, both soaked through and clinging to her shivering body. She looked up and met his gaze, smiled in relief, then faltered. “I’m sorry I wrecked the car.”