Her hands mostly steady, Cait finally started her car, put it in gear and looked over her shoulder for the next opening in traffic.
CHAPTER SEVEN
CALL HER OLD-FASHIONED, but Cait liked maps. Real ones printed in color on paper. Laminated was okay. She even liked folding and unfolding them. She’d left the one of Angel Butte and environs spread out on her passenger seat even though once she’d scanned it she knew where she was going.
She had yet to find a map updated since the annexation. Bond Road, the object of so much interest recently, meandered out of town, following Allen Creek and ending at a small lake. Most of the length of it would have been outside the city limits two years ago. She was surprised at how completely she’d left town. The road traversed stretches of the dry forest typical of the area interspersed with a few small ranches. A faded sign in front of one advertised trail rides with horses to suit all ability levels.
Cait speculated on why the line had been drawn to encompass an area with so little growth. Had Phil and other developers already owned land out here and wanted to latch on to city services? It might be interesting to find out whether the two developers who sat on the council also contemplated projects west of town.
She had decided to take an hour or so to check out both the site being considered for a septic treatment plant and the acreage Phil owned. Having already stopped and looked at the uninteresting plat that was Noah’s current favorite for the city-owned facility, she was now keeping her eye on the rolling mileage counter on her dashboard, unsure whether Phil had marked his acreage. Of course, he’d have been glad to give her a tour if she’d asked, but a little of Phil Barbieri went a long way.
Cait had passed only a couple of cars going toward town, and they looked like they belonged to visitors. Maybe there was a campground or rustic resort on tiny Lupine Lake, where Bond Road ended.
Once she reached the mileage marker she’d been told to watch for, Cait slowed. Supposedly an access road had been bulldozed in for a quarter of a mile or so. Spotting it almost right away, she glanced in her rearview mirror and saw an SUV or pickup closing in on her. She promptly put on her turn signal and eyed the dirt track, which plunged at a steep decline for the first fifty feet or so. Her small hatchback did not have four-wheel drive. At best, this little outing would result in a detour through the car wash.
Resigned, she turned anyway, aware of the SUV starting to pass. She forgot it when she heard a popping sound and the steering wheel spun out of her control for a frightening instant. Grimly, she grabbed it and hung on. Flat tire. She knew that feeling. Thank God she’d already slowed down, she thought, pulse racing, still battling for control on the sharp hill with only loose dirt for traction.
When the ground leveled out again, she was able to brake to a stop. Shaken, she didn’t move for a minute.
Well. She had a jack and a spare tire, albeit one of those shrimpy ones that looked like they’d been made for a motorcycle. Or—better option—she’d call for a tow truck. Given that she’d worn a favorite linen suit, she thought it would be worth paying someone else to change the blasted tire.
Decision made, she grabbed her phone, then got out to see which tire had gone. To her surprise, she caught a glimpse of the silver SUV backing up. The driver must have seen what happened and was being nice enough to stop. Maybe some chivalrous guy would offer to change the tire for the helpless little lady and save her a boring wait and some bucks.
On the other hand… It occurred to her how very alone she was out there. That silver color was really common for rentals. If the driver had hung back, he could have been following her without her noticing. This scenario was made to order for someone like, say, Blake. He could be chivalrous and say things like, A woman alone can get in trouble, you know, and she’d have to be nice as if she were glad to see him.
Driving out here all by herself might have been a dumb thing to do.
No. She had to do her job.
The vehicle didn’t pull into the access road. Instead, it hovered, blocking the turnoff. Uncertainly she stood there beside her open car door, noticing the passenger-side window of the SUV was down even though no one sat in that seat. With the sun bright behind the strange vehicle, she couldn’t make out the driver. Was he going to get out? The silence was absolute but for the sound of the idling engine. She was weirdly aware of everything: the sharp scent of volcanic dirt and ponderosa pine, her skin, the rasp of every breath, her own heartbeat, the smooth texture of the phone she clutched.