Snow Blind - Lori G. Armstrong [120]
“Get on your knees down by the trailer hitch. 426
Hold out your right arm.”
I did.
Jackal snapped one cuff around my wrist and the other one around the ball hitch. He tugged hard. Satisfied I couldn’t get loose, he straightened and grinned maniacally. “It’d almost be worth it to see Martinez’s face when he sees you as you really are: a frigid fuckin’
blonde with ice in her veins.”
I shivered so hard the chain on the cuffs clattered. I heard his footsteps fading, half-afraid he was taunting me and planned on shooting me in the back of the head at the last minute. My whole body convulsed and didn’t stop even after he’d climbed in his Blazer and sped away.
Don’t look at her.
But I knew if I closed my eyes I’d fall asleep or drift off into that dreamy state of cold nothingness like I’d been in when I’d stumbled through the blizzard at the ranch.
Guess Dad wouldn’t have to worry about me spilling DJ’s secret. Guess Kim wouldn’t have to worry about me ruining her wedding day. Guess Tony was right. I needed a goddamn
427
bodyguard.
I had no illusions about how this scenario would play out. No chance for rescue. I’d made sure of that by insisting I didn’t need help, coddling, or protection. It was too late to admit to Tony, or to anyone else, that I did need protection. Mostly from myself and my own stupid pride.
Jesus. I never learned from my mistakes.
Yes, you learned one thing. You told Martinez how you felt about him.
It’d be cold comfort when he stared at my lifeless body.
God. It would ruin him. I knew that. If the situation were reversed it would destroy me. I started to cry. I didn’t want to die. Not like this. At least when I’d had the showdown with Leticia at Bear Butte, my death would’ve had meaning. A sense of purpose. A twisted nobility. Vengeance served cold. Right now I had nothing but a truckload of regrets. Sobs racked my body with such violence I felt I was being electrocuted. Tears froze on my face. I jerked and tugged on the handcuffs trying to get free. Maybe if I twisted it I could make the metal edge sharp enough to cut my hand off. Better to live with one hand than to die with both.
I screamed until my throat was raw. The cries mixed with the shrieking wind and vanished into the white sea of barrenness.
Not fair. Not fair. Not fucking fair!
428
I wished I had a do-over. I wished I would’ve turned right after leaving the ranch. I wished I would’ve stayed and talked to Trish. Or to Brittney. I wished I would’ve called Martinez, Kevin, Jimmer, the sheriff, anyone, so someone knew where the hell I was. Might as well wish for a pair of bolt cutters while you’re at it.
I went utterly still.
Whoa. Wait a second.
I slowly lifted my head. Icy wind rippled through my hair. I squinted at the lumps in the snow-covered truck bed.
Jimmer’s voice: Don’t you ever clean this shit out?
My answer: You never know when you might need something.
Like bolt cutters.
I quit breathing. I had a pair of bolt cutters. Recently. But when?
Never. This is an illusion.
No. I used them for something.
What?
I don’t remember.
That’s because it was in a dream. Wishful thinking. No, it’s not. Focus.
Snow pelted me in the face. I shook my head to clear the fuzzy thoughts. Was this a mind trick? A reason to give me false hope?
No. Think, Julie. When was the last time you had them?
With Dad on the ranch when we were calving? No. 429
Those were chains and clamps.
With Jimmer? No.
Don and Dale had used their rusted-out, oldfashioned pair of bolt cutters to hack through the barbed-wire fence at the ranch, not mine.
That wasn’t it.
Think. Come on. Picture your bolt cutters in your mind. Big wooden handles. Rusty spot near the spring. It clicked.
I’d used my bolt cutters to sever the chain to Nyla’s motel room.
I stood so fast I nearly tore my arm from the socket. My feet lost traction on the ice and I crashed, smacking my tailbone into the ground, jerking my arm again. Unless someone stole them out of my truck bed, they should be there. Right there up near the passenger