Annie's Rainbow - Fern Michaels [105]
Annie wanted to sing her relief when she saw the overhead sign directly ahead, swinging in the wild wind. She slowed the car, eyes peeled to the right for the turnoff one mile down the road. She risked a glance in her rearview mirror to see what the car behind her was doing. The glimmering lights looked like they were slowing, too. The relief she’d felt at the sight of the sign turned to anxiety. If she did get off the exit, where would it take her? Would there be a motel or restaurant? Was it just a gas station or truck stop that served food? For all she knew it might just be a rest stop with a bathroom facility, vending machines, and dog runs for weary travelers with children and pets. There was no way she would get out of her car if it was a rest stop, no matter how well lighted it was.
She would have missed the turnoff again if it hadn’t been for a vicious streak of lightning that lit up the sky. She reduced her speed to fifteen miles an hour as she rounded the curve that would take her to a secondary road. It was black as tar as she crept along, the headlights six or seven car lengths behind her. Maybe the driver was as tired as she was. Maybe the driver had missed the Roanoke Rapids turnoff the way she had. Maybe he or she just wanted to get out of the storm like she did. She switched on her high beams, hoping to see the sign she knew would be at the end of the exit road. The driving rain made it impossible to see the sign. Her options were to go left or right. Which way? She opted for right and turned on her signal light. The car behind her followed suit. Perhaps he was depending on her taillights to guide him. Her neck muscles felt so rigid she could barely turn her head to either side. All about her was darkness, with no other vehicular traffic. The shimmering headlights behind her followed as she shifted the 4-by-4 into first gear to crawl down the dark, steep, curvy road.
Fifteen minutes later, Annie knew she was in trouble when there was still no sign of any other kind of traffic or habitation. She risked a glance at her gas gauge. Almost on E. That was why she’d wanted to get off at the Roanoke Rapids exit. Once the gas gauge light came on, she had five gallons left. With seventeen miles to the gallon, conceivably she could drive eighty-five miles to get to a gas station, if she was lucky enough to find one open at this hour of the night. Where in the hell was she? She wished now she’d called Elmo to tell him she was leaving. “Always after the fact, Annie,” she muttered as she strained to see through the driving rain. Where was her cell phone? Had she put it in her purse or her carryall bag? And where was the gun Elmo and Tom insisted she carry with her? In the carry bag, along with the cell phone in the cargo area of the 4-by-4. A lot of good either one of them would do her now. Even if she did have the cell phone and gun, she knew they would be worthless to her. Never in a million years could she shoot someone. She’d only gotten the Glock to shut both men up. The cell phone would be worthless out here in nowhere land.
The headlights of the vehicle behind her were still shimmering in her rearview mirror. She’d never been this tired, this wired up in her whole life. Who was the person behind her? Friend or foe? Elmo’s ominous words rang in her ears.
What if I die out here? Who would find me? More to the point, when would I be found? Don’t think about things like that. Think about all the dreams you had. Think about the relief you felt when you finally sent the rest of the money to the bank.
The warning light for the gas gauge flashed on, once, twice, then remained steady. Eighty-five miles to go. Possibly she could drive an