Page 52 of The Liar I Married

The headlights illuminated a strip of blacktop like a glossy, ice-covered snake winding through snow-covered fields.

An uncomplicated life in a small, sleepy town in Montana had looked good during his ten-month stint in the Walter Reed National Military Medical Center, but after four hours of driving deeper into oblivion, he’d started to have doubts.

“Talking to yourself is the first sign.”

Yawning, he opened a window to clear his head. A blast of freezing wind slapped his face, jerking his concentration to full alert. “That’s better.” He pulled down his black woolen cap to cover his ears and then tapped the GPS screen. “Are you awake?”

The robotic female voice keeping him company had remained silent since her last set of directions.

In the distance, he caught the intermittent glow of taillights and accelerated.

Following a vehicle through the treacherous, unfamiliar roads would make life easier, and if it dropped out of sight, he doubted another would come by any time soon.

Isolated and far from civilization, only idiots like him visited the backwoods town of Black Rock Falls during a blizzard.

The roar of an engine cut through the silence and light hit the rear-vision mirror.

Twin halogen beams cut into his corneas, blinding him.

The vehicle shot past at high speed, showering his black truck with ice and gravel.

He blinked away red spots in time to make out a mud-covered license plate on a dark pickup carrying a large black barrel secured by ropes.

Jerk! The speeding maniac bore down on the vehicle in front and both disappeared around a tight bend.

A wave of apprehension hit him. A loud bang and grinding shattered the still night and he slowed his pace.

Taking the sweeping turn with caution, he gaped in dismay at the pieces of twisted metal littering the bank of fresh snow.

Vivid memories of life-changing seconds slammed into his mind.

The image of his wife’s lifeless eyes staring into nothingness.

The blood on her forehead. The anger knowing the bad guys had won.

He shook his thoughts back into the now and scanned the road for wreckage.

The ruts in the snow indicated one vehicle had left the road.

He inched the Beast forward and stared into the distance.

Two red taillights disappeared into the darkness.

The pickup had appeared out of nowhere as if the driver had been holed up behind the barn and then rammed the other vehicle with no regard to human life.

What a great start to his new job. He’d arrive in Black Rock Falls as the sole witness to attempted murder and leaving the scene of an accident.

This is all I need. Using the headlights to scan the area, he crawled forward, searching the gray packed snow along the edge of the road for the other vehicle.

A plume of smoke shimmered in a nearby grassland and a deep groove in the soil showed the car’s trajectory.

He turned his vehicle to flood the area with light.

Leaving the engine running, he grabbed a flashlight from the glove compartment and slid from the seat.

Sleet stung his cheeks and an icy chill cut through his clothes.

He zipped his thick winter hoodie and shivered.

Gut clenching with apprehension of finding death in the crushed metal, he ran, boots crunching on ice, toward a cruiser with the BLACK ROCK FALLS COUNTY SHERIFF’S DEPARTMENT logo on the door.

The cruiser revolved on its roof, wheels spinning and cloaked in a haze of mist. As it came to a stop, he jumped the drainage gully along the roadside, dropped the flashlight and then slid on his knees toward the driver’s side.

A cloud of fumes billowed around him and gas dripped from the wreck pooling in the snow.

One spark and the fuel would ignite. Placing one boot on the side panel, he grabbed the handle and gently levered open the door.

He reached for the flashlight and aimed the beam on the face of a woman in uniform suspended upside down by the seatbelt, her face flush with the airbag.

She glared at him, dark eyes flashing. She appeared alert and, from her expression, as mad as hell. She’s alive.

As he moved the flashlight over her, the deputy squinted and then lifted the muzzle of a Glock 22 and aimed it at his face.

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