Hard As Steele(8)

She let the call go to voicemail, and took a long, hard swallow of her beer.

The little voice that had been nagging at her for God knows how long was a bit quieter, but not completely.

Go to Timber Valley. Find Steele. Get help, the voice said again and again. She heard it in her sleep. It pulsed urgently through her body all day long.

Why did she need help? She didn’t know, so what would she even ask him? She knew that something was wrong, that she needed help more than she needed oxygen, but she didn’t know anything more than that. She wasn’t in any danger that she knew of. Nobody had followed her there.

She thought about it. She wasn’t the one who needed help. Someone else was in danger, but she didn’t know who. She needed to get help for someone, immediately. Who was it? Why couldn’t she remember? She had a horrible feeling that she was letting someone down, that she should be rallying the troops, screaming at them to…do what? She didn’t know.

She clenched her fists, feeling her heart speed up. Get help.

“You feeling all right?”

She glanced up at the bartender, startled.

“Me? I’m fine, I think. Why do you ask?”

“You’re very pale,” the bartender said. “You look a little peaked, as my mother would say. Here, have some fries, we just made them.”

She set a bowl of salty, greasy fries in front of Roxanne, who thanked her and dove into them. They tasted heavenly.

The bartender was still watching her as if she might suddenly grow wings and flap out of there or something, and the conversation in the bar, which had died out when Roxanne walked in, was only at a dull murmur now. People were staring but pretending not to.

Roxanne rubbed her face wearily and ate more fries. It had been a fifteen hour drive. She’d stopped at a motel after eight hours and spent the night, and then resumed driving this morning.

Something about the thought of driving there made her anxious. Why exactly had she decided to come today, in particular? What had set her off? She couldn’t say.

Maybe it had been a mistake to come here. When Steele walked in, she wouldn’t know what to say to him, and she’d end up looking like a fool. Then she’d have to drive another fifteen hours back home.

Home. There was a big blank spot in her mind when she thought about that, a clutching in her chest, and she didn’t know why. She forced herself to picture the little house she lived in. Her parents house had been taken by the bank, because of all their hospital bills. She lived in a little mobile home on the edge of town, owned by Katherine’s father.

The house was decorated in thrift store chic. She’d made floral print sheets into curtains, using curtain clips. Katherine had helped her paint her little round kitchen table and four chairs different bright fruity colors.

Why did the thought of her house fill her with a sense of dread? Had she left from her house yesterday? She must have.

She drained the rest of her beer. Just as she was about to ask for another one, the door swung open, and Steele walked in.

He was every bit as handsome as she remembered him. He was so big he almost filled the doorway, blocking out the sun behind him.

He was wearing a sheriff’s uniform. Had he told her that he worked for the sheriff’s department? She couldn’t remember.

With resentment, she noticed several of the female patrons checking him out. Back off, bitches, she thought to her. Then she shook herself. Who was she to be jealous? He’d made his feelings for her quite clear – by vanishing.

Steele scanned the room for her and walked up to the bar quickly.

“Roxanne!” His tone was astonished. She couldn’t tell if he was happy or angry or what he was feeling, but she knew what she was feeling. All the hurt and humiliation she’d been feeling swelled up inside her and overflowed, and before she could stop herself, she reached up and slapped his face so hard her hand stung.

Steele took a step back, rubbing his cheek.

“You son of a bitch!” Tears filled her eyes.

“What was that for?” His tone was bewildered.

“For leaving me by my car in a snowstorm! And for leading me on and lying to me!”

Everyone in the place was staring at them, riveted. He glanced around the bar. “Can we please discuss this outside?”

“Sure. Why not?” she said bitterly. He probably didn’t want anyone to know that he’d spent the night with her.

She reached for her purse, but Steele stopped her. “Put it on my tab,” he called out to the bartender, who nodded.

She followed him outside.

“I don’t remember you telling me that you work for the sheriff’s department,” she said, as they stepped out into the cool fall air. She followed him out into the parking lot.

“I am the sheriff. What, exactly do you remember?” he asked her.

Interesting choice of words, given that her memory was full of blank spots. After the car accident, she’d had tests at the local hospital, and there was no sign of brain injury. There was no logical explanation for her missing memory. The doctor had described it as partial retrograde amnesia, but he also said that her head injury hadn’t been bad enough to account for it.

“I remember you telling me that you would love me forever. Did you get a good laugh out of telling me that?” To her utter mortification, her eyes flooded with tears. When he’d said it to her, she’d wanted it to be true so badly. Her memory of her weekend with him was patchy, but she did remember him saying that. Also, all the hot sex.

He winced, as if her words hurt him. “No, I did not. And I wasn’t lying to you.”

“Really?” she choked on a bitter laugh. “You’ve got a funny way of showing it. The next thing I remember was standing next to the side of the road in the snow, and you getting in your truck and driving off. Then the police showed up. Good thing, or I would have frozen to death out there.”

“They showed up because I called them.”

“You called them? They said that it was an anonymous call.” She blinked, hard. “You’re in law enforcement. Why wouldn’t you have left your name? Why did you drop me off by the side of the road and leave?”

They were walking towards a patrol car.

“It’s complicated.” He grimaced. “I know that sounds like a weak excuse. Get in, will you?”

Stubbornly, she stood there. “Yes, it does sound like a weak excuse. Are you married? Do you have a girlfriend?”

He looked horrified. “Good God, no! Neither one of those. If I did, I would never have…”

“Had sex with me for a weekend and then left me by the side of the road with a head injury, in the snow?” she snapped.

Pain flickered across his face. “Please. Get in.” He held the passenger door open.

She glowered at him, and stalked off. She looked around for her car, but couldn’t see it. Steele caught up to her.

“What is it?” he asked her.

“My car is gone,” she said, bewildered.

A man who had just come out of the bar pointed at a black Suburu that she didn’t recognize. “That’s your car,” he said.

She shook her head. “That’s not my car,” she said. “I have a Ford.”

“That’s the car I saw you drive up in and get out of,” the man said.

I am completely losing my mind, she thought. I’ve never seen that car before.

“Oh, right,” she said, stomach clenching in panic. “Uh, yes. I borrowed it from my friend. I forgot.”

“Roxanne, come back to my place with me and let’s talk,” Steele said, and she followed him back to his patrol car.

Something in the park caught her attention. It was something in the corner of her eye. She turned to look.

“Roxanne!” Steele said urgently. It seemed like he was trying to distract her.

She could see a blur of motion, two children playing, one of them chasing the other…wait, what was happening? It looked as if one of them had just melted into something else in one smooth flowing motion. Then the other one followed suit.

Now it looked as if they were two bobcats, chasing each other straight up a tree.

“Roxanne!” Steele’s voice bellowed in her ear.

She swung to face him, and a wave of dizziness rolled over her. She clutched at the car.

An impossible image flashed through her mind, like a memory. It was an image of Steele, standing outside in the snow, stark naked, turning from man to wolf.

She’d remembered that before, hadn’t she?

Another image swam into her head. It was an older man with gray hair, looking into her eyes, urgently. “Run,” he was telling her. “Get help. Bring them here.”

Where was “here”, and why did she need to get help? Who was that man? She needed to get help for him, he’d done something for her, he’d rescued her somehow…she had no idea where he was, or if he was even real.

Panic clutched at her throat, and she fell to her knees. Steele grabbed at her and helped her into the car. He buckled the seat belt around her.

She heard him climb in, and they started driving.

“I can’t have seen what I just saw,” she moaned.

“What do you think that you saw?”

“Two children turning into animals.” She turned and directed an accusing look at him. “I swear to God that I remember you turning into an animal. You were a giant wolf. A beautiful gray and white wolf, running through the snow.”