Known (12 page)

She was honor roll. She didn’t do drugs. Sure, she’d tried cigarettes; hadn’t everyone?

I’m a good kid. Why does she treat me like the losers at school?

Now she sat in the cab of a truck with a stranger, worrying that someone had tried to hurt them.
Why us?
She’d listened while Chris questioned her mother about people who might be angry with her. She’d waited for Gianna to mention her ex, Owen, but it’d never happened. Even Violet knew that relationship hadn’t ended well. Her mother kept her dating life extremely private. She wouldn’t introduce Violet to a man unless they’d been dating for a few months. Over the past ten years, Violet had met two men. There’d been more, but Gianna hadn’t brought them home. Owen had been the second man, and Violet had met him in the days after her grandmother’s death.

He’d introduced himself at Nana’s funeral. Violet had stared at him, trying to place the familiar name, but her mind hadn’t been functioning right. Her grief over Nana and being exposed to her first funeral had created dark curtains that concealed many corners of her memory.

“I’m a friend of your mother’s. I never knew your grandmother, but I know how important she was to you.” Owen had held his hand out and Violet automatically shook it. She’d never shaken so many hands or been hugged by so many people she didn’t know. She looked up into Owen’s face, but he was staring across the room at her mother, admiration in his eyes as her mother consoled a white-haired woman.

It clicked.

This is Mom’s current guy.

“Pleased to meet you,” she recited. “Thank you for coming.” She’d heard her mom repeat the line a dozen times and had adopted it as her own. She didn’t have the energy to personalize each interaction. The constant pity in everyone’s eyes had worn her down. Their well-meaning but grating comments made her want to scream.

“You must miss her so much.”

“She’s in a much better place.”

Fuck you!
she wanted to scream.
Yes, I miss her! I don’t care that she’s in a better place; I need her here! My heart is breaking and I have to stand here and smile at all of you!

“Your mother said you were very close to your grandmother. That she’d practically raised you while your mother went to school and work,” said Owen, still watching her mother.

“Yes.” Behind one of the hazy curtains in her brain, the curious daughter in her emerged to size up Owen Thomas.
Tall. Not too bad looking for an older guy.
The hand holding a cup of coffee had dirt under two of the fingernails, and he’d missed a spot on the side of his neck while shaving.

He still hadn’t looked her in the eye.

Eye contact, my Violet.
She heard Nana’s voice.
Always look directly in the eyes of the person you’re talking to. It shows respect. It doesn’t matter if they’re an adult or a child.

She waited for him to look at her, recalling the facts her mother had mentioned about this man.
Owns a consulting business. Never married. No kids.

After a moment of silence, Owen jerked his gaze away from her mother and met Violet’s patient stare, his eyes widening the smallest bit. Did he realize she’d caught him being rude? He shook her hand again. “I’m very sorry for your loss,” he said rapidly. “Maybe we’ll meet again.” He nodded at her and left.

A small chill vibrated through her chest as her gaze followed his dark suit as he walked across the room to her mother.

I don’t like him.
Nana wouldn’t have liked him either.

He stopped beside her mother and possessively placed a hand on the back of her arm, just above her elbow. Gianna gave him a grateful smile and introduced him to the woman she’d been speaking with.

Owen immediately made eye contact with the woman.

Violet grew light-headed, as if the room had lost its oxygen, and she no longer heard the low murmurs of the mourners. She was alone. Standing in a room full of strangers and her mother’s friends, she was invisible, yet everyone’s gazes rested on her as one. She wanted to retreat behind thick doors and rip off the smile that’d frozen in place. Then she wanted to cry—and have Nana stroke her hair like she’d done when the boy she liked had asked her best friend to the holiday dance.

Her recollection vanished as the truck’s right front wheel abruptly dipped downward and Violet pitched forward, the seat belt digging into her chest. Oro’s bulk slammed into the back of Violet’s seat and he yelped.

“Fuck,” Chris muttered under his breath.

The truck stopped. Chris threw it into reverse. The truck vibrated and groaned. He twisted the steering wheel and tried again.

It didn’t budge. Oro softly whined.

Violet watched the snowflakes gently land on the windshield as Chris wrestled with the truck’s gears. A few moments later he paused.

“We can try to dig out, but I suspect it’s snowmobile time for all of us.”

Chris yanked on the ropes, confident they’d hold.

He glanced over at Gianna, who was having a quiet conversation with Violet. The teen was pale and holding her hands on her stomach. Her seat belt had wrenched her in the gut when the truck stopped. He’d felt both front wheels catch and rise within a split second of each other. Then the right front wheel had suddenly plunged down and brought the truck to a crooked halt.

The culprit was a downed tree across the road. It’d been completely hidden by the depth of the snow, but the snow on the far side of the tree hid an air pocket. His right front wheel had sunk through the false peak, bottoming out the truck and effectively trapping it. He’d need a tow truck to get it out. And probably a chain saw.

The wind blew small flakes down his neck, sneaking them past his high collar as he surveyed their backup plan. The snow had been steady, but it was the wind that was the worst. It’d grown stronger over the last hour, turning the flakes into flesh-biting ice, and the constant sway of the fir trees gave him the impression that the forest was moving. Gianna’s snowmobile tracks had already been obliterated. The road before them was a smooth white swath weaving between the tall firs. With the light snowmobile, it shouldn’t be too hard to get to the highway.

He’d tied the two plastic toboggans together. They were cheap toys he’d picked up somewhere, but one of the best purchases he’d ever made. He, Brian, and Oro had spent joy-filled hours sledding with them near the cabin. Now they would possibly save their lives. He set a duffel on each one and figured Gianna and Violet could hold them. He wasn’t going anywhere without the supplies. He packed as much of the food as possible onto the toboggans and the back of the snowmobile. With the bitter wind, it would be a freezing ride without the protection of the truck’s cab. The snowmobile’s gas tank was a quarter full. He had no idea how much the tank held, but by simply eyeing the machine he estimated it couldn’t be more than ten or twelve gallons.

What kind of gas mileage does a snowmobile get? While hauling two full sleds?

More than enough to get them to the highway. How far they’d need to go on the highway was another question. At least there should be some traffic out there.

Unless they cleaned up the accident and closed the highway until the storm passes.

It’d happened before.

He checked his cell phone. Still no service. As soon as a bar appeared on his screen, he would call Michael. His brother was the best means of getting them off the mountain. There was no way they were driving a snowmobile sixty miles into the city, and because of the storm and accident, it was possible that the forest rangers and Clackamas County Sheriff’s Office wouldn’t have the resources to give them a ride to town.

The wet sound of retching filled the quiet forest. He spun around to see Violet bent over and Gianna supporting her forehead with one hand while resting another on her back. Gianna’s brown gaze met his and she shook her head the tiniest bit. She didn’t look too concerned.

Sick? Food poisoning? Nerves? The seat belt?

Oro headed toward the women to investigate.
“Oro!”
Chris called the dog back, fully aware of what dogs were willing to eat. Oro spun toward him and perked his ears. “C’mere, boy.” The golden dog rocked through the deep drifts, purposefully tossing snow in the air with his nose.

At least one of us isn’t worried.

“Ready?” he asked Gianna. She nodded at him and held up one gloved finger, asking for a moment. Chris studied their backup plan, pleased with the results. The rope towline should pull the sleds with no issues. He simply needed to be careful when stopping and cornering. It would get them where they need to go. Gianna directed Violet to one of the toboggans. They’d agreed the teen should wear the helmet. The girl sat down, put on her goggles, and gripped a duffel. Oro promptly sat in the front of her sled, his eyes and ears stating he was ready for fun. Violet patted the dog and gave a weak smile. The first Chris had seen all morning.

“That’s his usual seat,” Chris explained. “He loves sledding.”

Gianna took a seat on the other sled. “Let’s go.” She pulled her hat down and her scarf up over her nose and mouth to her goggles. Through the clear plastic, her gaze said she had complete faith in their success.

Chris took a deep breath and started the engine.

A windshield would have been nice.

Gianna kept her head down, thankful for the goggles. The wind was nearly unbearable. It blasted right through her scarf and gloves. She’d tried facing backward during part of her ride, but it’d nauseated her. Violet rested her helmeted head against Oro’s back, using the dog to block the gentle snowflakes that turned into stinging pieces of ice upon impact with skin. Oro didn’t mind the cold.

Twice they’d dismounted and walked up hills when the engine groaned with its load. Chris would drive the snowmobile to the top of the hill, then walk back down, breaking a path for them. For the first five steps she’d welcomed the change and relief from the cold wind. Then she’d simply been miserable.

Violet was quiet. Gianna was 90 percent certain that nerves had upset her stomach back at the truck. The teen hadn’t complained about the cold or the hikes up the hills, making Gianna simultaneously proud and worried. Her pace was a bit slow, but she didn’t ask for a break. When they got back on their sleds after the second hill, Violet had promptly closed her eyes and leaned forward against the dog. Gianna noticed that Chris kept an eye on her daughter but didn’t ask questions.

Their progress was slow. She and Violet had learned to use their heels to help slow the sleds when Chris needed to stop or take a sharp turn. Frankly, the sleds worked so well, she wished they hadn’t wasted energy on the truck. But once they got out to the highway, she knew they’d wish they had the Ford. After what felt like hours, the tall firs lining the narrow road opened up to a wider highway.

Chris raised one arm in exultation and Gianna cheered. Violet’s smile was wan, but Gianna could feel her relief. Along the edge of the highway, a tall berm of plowed snow made for some tricky maneuvering to get to the road. Clearly the snowplows hadn’t even attempted to plow the road to their cabins, and had simply passed it by.
Frisco.
The forest ranger’s face filled her mind, and she said a silent prayer for the kind man who’d clearly gone out of his way to check on them. Without his snowmobile they’d still be stuck in the cabin or in Chris’s truck. With a murderer running around.

With a burst of teen energy, Violet ran out into the center of the road and spun on one foot, her arms in the air. A mother’s instinct urged Gianna to tell her to get out of the road, but it wasn’t necessary. No cars. No sounds of traffic. The highway was typically two lanes wide but was currently plowed to a width of one and a half. It hadn’t been disturbed in hours; a couple of inches of powder rested on top of the packed snow. No tire marks.

“They must have closed the highway,” stated Chris. “The accident must have been worse than Frisco realized.” He pulled out his phone. “Yes! I’ve got coverage.” He immediately dialed and held the phone to his ear.

Violet checked hers. “I’ve got coverage, too.” She looked at her mom. “Who should I call?”