Witness On The Run

She felt self-conscious in his presence. She wished he wasn’t so handsome. She couldn’t pretend she hadn’t noticed his rugged good looks, and the last thing she wanted to do was get caught staring. Many truckers, even the married ones, wouldn’t hesitate to proposition a female hitchhiker. Cam hadn’t given any indication that he expected sexual favors from her. He didn’t have a creepy-predator vibe. She sat very still and tried not to imagine the worst.

He gestured to the radio. “You can change the station if you like. Or I have audiobooks.”

“Audiobooks?”

“Books on tape.”

She nodded her understanding. There was a device plugged into his port. She picked it up and browsed the files. A Stieg Larsson book was at the top of the queue. The other options were horror, murder mysteries and true crime. Disturbing stories of violence and mayhem.

“Is this what serial killers listen to?”

He frowned at the question.

“Sorry,” she said awkwardly. “That was a joke.”

He changed gears, glancing her direction. “I guess my selections are pretty stark.”

“They’re fine.”

“I choose books that will help me stay awake. It’s a trucker trick.”

She set aside the device. “I’ve never listened to an audiobook. I don’t think they make them for the books I like.”

“Why not?”

“I read graphic novels. They have pictures.” She flushed at the admission, as if it was something to be ashamed of. Duane always said her “comics” weren’t real books. But Duane never read anything, so what did he know?

“Where do you get graphic novels?”

“I’ve bought a few at a used bookstore, but they’re hard to find. In Canada, I checked them out from the library. I don’t have a card here.”

“How long have you been in Alaska?”

“Six months.”

He didn’t ask her why she’d come. She wouldn’t have told him.

“What’s Canada like?”

“Cold.”

He smiled at her answer. “Were you a waitress there, too?”

“I was before I got married.”

“You’re married?”

She searched his face for judgment and found none. “It didn’t work out.”

“Is he the one you’re running from?”

“None of your business.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked with displeasure, but he dropped the subject. She crossed her arms over her chest to hide her trembling hands. Although she wasn’t naturally meek or shy, she’d learned to avoid conflict with men. She’d managed to escape Duane and his hair-trigger temper. This morning, she’d stumbled into more danger. Witnessing a murder hadn’t improved her opinion of strangers. She half expected Cam to lash out at her.

When he didn’t, she released a slow breath. Her first instinct was to apologize again, but she squelched it. They had to establish some boundaries. Certain topics were off-limits. She couldn’t tell him why she was running.

To his credit, Cam took her prickly attitude in stride. He didn’t interrogate her further. He continued driving, steady as a rock. He didn’t exceed the speed limit or take unnecessary risks. They entered Denali State Park, which offered spectacular views. She looked out the window and watched the rugged landscape pass by.

They stopped for lunch around noon. Cam gave her a sandwich and a drink from the mini-fridge. Then he put on his jacket and went outside to check his load. She was surprised by how hungry she was. She bit into the sandwich with relish.

He came in from the cold, his cheeks ruddy, and they hit the road again. He ate his sandwich on a long straightaway.

Tala thought about the last man who’d given her a sandwich: Walt. He’d always been kind to her. The day she’d walked into his diner, he’d hired her on the spot. He’d fed her and offered her some pocket money at the end of the shift. His generosity reminded her that there were good men in the world. Men like her father, who’d raised her to be strong, to fight back, to take care of herself. She wondered if he’d have been disappointed in her, had he lived.

Cam seemed like a good man. Maybe a little too good, with his healthy eating habits and unflappable demeanor. It occurred to her that he might call the police after they parted ways. If something had happened to Walt, Cam would hear about it. He’d want to help. He would tell them everything. Her name, birthplace, nationality. It was more than enough information to identify her. She’d fled the scene of a crime. She could be arrested just for that.

Trying not to panic, she nibbled the edge of her thumbnail. Maybe he wouldn’t go to the authorities. He was a trucker, not a Boy Scout. She sensed a certain amount of detachment in him, which made sense for a married man who wanted to stay true to his wife. He was giving Tala a ride to Fairbanks, nothing more. When they got there, she was on her own. She had no idea what she’d do.

She didn’t know anyone in Alaska, other than Walt, her landlady and her coworkers. She had no family here. She hadn’t seen her mother in years. She’d been closer to her father, who’d died almost a decade ago. She still missed him.

Blinking away fresh tears, she pushed her anxieties aside and focused on the present. There were majestic mountains in the distance. She hadn’t seen much of the state in her short time here. She’d passed by Denali once on her way toward Anchorage. It was a sight to behold, immense and breathtaking.

Her father had been an avid outdoorsman. He’d shared his love of the land with her. Traveling through this beautiful country reminded her of him. Live simply, he’d always said. Take only what you need.

She closed her eyes and held those thoughts for as long as she could. When she opened them, she was strong again.

Chapter 4 (#u0ab8344d-c16a-5c50-a33b-12b9ae170066)

Fairbanks, AK65N2 degrees

It wasn’t a pleasant drive from Denali.

Another rig had jackknifed on the icy road before McKinley Peak, causing a major pileup. Traffic was stopped for miles in both directions. There was no way around the wreck, no alternative route. Cam had to sit and wait for several hours. Tala didn’t complain about the delay. She didn’t say a word. The sun set early and daylight faded. They reached the outskirts of Fairbanks in the evening hours.

“Where should I drop you off?” he asked.

“Anywhere is fine.”

He didn’t feel right about abandoning her on a street corner. It was getting late. “You have family around here?”

“No.”

“Friends?”

“I can get by on my own.”

He wanted to ask how, even though it was none of his business. She appeared to have no belongings, other than a serviceable parka and a cheap waitress uniform. She wasn’t carrying a purse or backpack. If she stood out in the cold, she’d get another ride. That much was certain. Someone would pick her up. Someone with ill intentions, most likely.