Alone on the open highway, witnessed only by the moon, Ilse forced one frozen foot forward. Her hands trembled horribly as she did, but she refused to back down now. She was here for a reason. No more postcards, no more haunting memories. She wasn’t a little girl anymore.

“Hi,” Ilse said, finding her voice surprisingly steady despite her inner turmoil. “Can I help you?”

The same road. The same road the killer had been hunting. The same road.

Ilse blinked and watched as the man in the baseball cap gave a soft little chuckle. It smelled, perhaps, like cigarette smoke wafting from the front of the vehicle. “Thought maybe I could help you,” he called back.

Ilse shivered, rubbing her elbows through her thick sweater. She shifted uncomfortably on the road, feeling trapped for a moment. Her hand went to her pocket, where she’d placed her keys, and she felt the comforting, hefty weight of the ring of metal. She paused, though, hesitant. Where was her pepper spray?

She glanced down, frowning. The little plastic container was missing. Where had it gone?

She froze now, double-checking her pocket, then her keys. The pepper spray was missing. Panic began to set in. Her sheer exhaustion weighed heavy, and the momentum of her choices up to this moment pressed on her.

Abort. She needed to abort. This was a terrible idea. Unarmed, defenseless…

Her hand tightened around the keys, and she took another step toward the truck despite her thoughts.

“Just saw your car back that way,” the man said, waving a hand over his shoulder. “Did you break down?”

Ilse swallowed once. “Yes,” she lied. Leave! Get out of there! But she ignored her subconscious. She’d come too far. She was too tired to try again. Sometimes risks were necessary. Besides… she had a plan, didn’t she?

She swallowed, hand tightening further around the keys. Where had she lost her pepper spray?

“Tough luck. Well, wanted to be a good citizen. Need a lift anywhere? I’m in no rush.”

Ilse exhaled slowly. What sort of folk were in no rush at midnight? Most, perhaps. But on the other hand, what sort of folk pulled over to the side of the road at midnight for a stranger? The man seemed friendly enough, though his voice came muffled from the front of the cabin, and his hand—which still dangled out the window—seemed limp.

But still… Ilse hadn’t come here for fear. Just five minutes. Always five minutes. What could it hurt? The keys were good enough, weren’t they? She’d defended herself with far less as a child. She could only imagine the absolute gold strike a set of keys would have been back in that basement.

“Unknown… Brown eyes… Six victims…”

“What was that?”

“Nothing. Yeah, I could use a ride. Thanks!” She’d said it. She’d committed. Damn it.

Ilse circled to the passenger side of the truck. Before she could reach the handle, she heard the click of locks, and the driver reached across, shoving the door open. His smile flashed beneath a baseball cap, his features wreathed in shadow as he waved at her, gesturing for her to get in. A very pronounced smile. Almost an intentional thing. More a leer than anything.