Its tires spat gravel as it accelerated, its headlights bearing down directly on Sam in the pickup. It headed straight for her, forcing her to shield her eyes, tense for the impact, and cry out before it swerved at the final second, showering the truck with pebbles and dust.

“You asshole! What do you want?” Sam screamed.

The taillights in her side mirror vanished into the night.

Fighting back her tears, she watched for the vehicle to return. Her pulse pounded. She felt helpless as the minutes passed.

Nothing happened.

More time went by, maybe 20 minutes, with Sam eyeballing the side mirror. Her heart was still beating fast when she caught her breath.

In the distance, through the fog—headlights.

No, please no.

CHAPTER 3

Near the Cold Hollow Mountains, Vermont

The headlights behind Sam drew closer.

She held her breath, then double-checked her locked doors.

Gravel crunched as the vehicle swung around her, stopping parallel to Sam’s truck. It was another pickup; from what she could tell in the murkiness, it appeared to be loaded with an old washer, fridge, tire rims, and assorted junk. When a face at the passenger side turned to her, she was relieved.

Kevin.

He was thanking two other people in the truck. It looked like a man and an older woman. Then he got out, and Sam lowered the driver’s window.

“You can yell at me in a minute,” Kevin said.

He reached into the bed of the pickup for the gas can, then walked around their truck. Sam was glad that the good Samaritans didn’t leave. She didn’t want them to pull away until Kevin got their truck going. As he unscrewed the gas can’s cap and then screwed on the nozzle, Sam got out and went over to the strangers.

“Thank you for helping us,” she said into the cab.

The older woman leaned forward, her creased face becoming visible in the ambient light.

“Happy to do it, dear. I’m Cass, and this is my son, Gibby.”

In the near darkness of the dashboard lights, Gibby was a silhouetted profile of a man with a ballcap, hands on the wheel. She couldn’t see his face at all, only the pinpoints of his eyes. The cap’s brim turned to her, and he nodded.

“I’m Sam. I appreciate what you did.”

“It was nothing. When we saw your fella there a ways back walking with the gas can, I said, ‘Gibby, that’s a fella who needs a ride.’ And the Good Book says you should help those in need. How’re you holding up after being out here all by your lonesome?”

“I’m fine, thanks.”

“That’s good. You’re a brave girl, sitting all alone at night, especially in these parts.”

“What do you mean?”