Chapter 14

I stand there on the gravel shoulder for a few minutes, expecting Dr. Keller to turn the car around and come back.

He doesn’t.

I stare down the long stretch of winding asphalt ahead as the morning sun shines down on me, wrapping me in its warmth. Dense, tall trees line both sides, dark and silent. There isn’t a single cottage or farmhouse in sight. The whole drive from the Airbnb to here, I didn’t see a single car.

I pull out my phone to try for an Uber, even though I doubt any driver would come all the way out here. The call won’t even connect. There is absolutely no service.

I start walking through the middle of the road, clutching my bag tight against my chest. I have no clue where I’m heading, but this highway has to lead somewhere, eventually somewhere with a house or a shop. Once I hit a building or run into a person, I can at least ask for help. However, with every single curve I round, my hope starts to fade a little more. The road just seems endless. After trekking for another ten or fifteen minutes, I finally hear a sound I was praying for. A low hum of an approaching engine cuts through the trees.

I quickly scramble onto the shoulder and stick out my thumb, acting on pure instinct before the vehicle is even visible.

That’s when the sheer malice of what Dr. Keller did finally hits me. He left a vulnerable woman stranded in the middle of the woods, and that too in a flimsy party dress. What if the driver who pulls over isn’t a decent person? What if some predator stops instead? What if someone decides to abduct me?

As the car draws closer, a fraction of the tension leaves my shoulders. The driver is a woman. I feel a bit more relaxed when I get a closer look; she looks decent. She must be in her thirties, with subtle makeup and a neat ponytail. The sedan slows to a halt beside me, and she rolls down the window.

“Need a lift?” she asks, offering a small, polite smile.

“Yes, please.”

“Where are you heading?”

“Oh… into town.”

“Hop in.”

She clicks the door locks open, and I climb into the passenger seat.

Personally, I wouldn’t stop for a stranger on an isolated stretch of road like this. I’d spend the whole drive looking over my shoulder, wondering what they might do to me. She doesn’t seem worried at all.

“What brought you all the way out here?” she asks, glancing at her mirrors as she pulls away.

For a second, my brain short-circuits as it tries to invent a plausible lie. When I can’t come up with anything, I tell her the truth, at least part of it. “My partner and I got into a fight. He kicked me out of the car.”

She doesn’t say anything.

‘That’s awful.’

‘Are you okay? ’

‘Are you safe?’

‘Do you want me to pull into a police detachment?’

Nothing.

I steal a sideways glance, trying to read why she is entirely unaffected by my shocking revelation. Her face is a total blank. Maybe she’s dealt with much worse in her life. Or maybe she thinks I’m lying. But if she doesn’t believe me, why would she let a total stranger into her car in the middle of nowhere and risk her own safety?

“How far is town?” I ask.

“About thirty kilometres.” She cuts her eyes toward me for a second. “Whereabouts do you live?”

“Near the hospital.”

“I’ll be passing right by there. Which street?”

“Napien Street.”

“Perfect. That’s on my route. I can drop you off.”

“Are you on your way to work?” I ask, trying to break the ice.

“Hm.”

That’s the extent of her reply. She isn’t overtly rude, but she isn’t warm either, just completely detached. A cold knot of panic begins to twist in my stomach. What if she’s an accomplice to something darker? What if she’s picking up targets for someone else? She’s wearing sensible trousers and a button-up shirt, looking like an administrative assistant or a civil servant. I want to fish for more information since I’m entirely at her mercy, but she clearly doesn’t want to chat. I’m a guest in her vehicle, so I should probably respect her privacy. She doesn’t look like an immediate threat, anyway.

A few kilometres later, the dense treeline finally breaks, and houses begin to dot the open fields. The gaps between them shrink until subdivisions and familiar neighbourhoods replace the farmland.

A wave of relief washes over me. I recognize this side of town. Thank God! She isn’t dangerous after all.

Still… her stony silence has kept me on edge for the entire drive.

The moment we cross into the city limits, my phone buzzes in my lap. Signal.

I immediately pull up my notifications. Five missed calls. A string of texts. All from Kim. I return the call instantly.

“I’ve been trying to reach you for the last hour,” Kim says, her voice laced with anxiety the second she picks up.

“I overslept,” I lie, dropping my pitch to a whisper so the driver won’t hear.

“Me too,” Kim says. “When I woke up, I realized I hadn’t seen you since the middle of the party. Then it clicked that you didn’t have a ride because Jake left early. I started panicking when my calls kept going straight to voicemail. Honestly, I probably would’ve called the police if Jake hadn’t messaged to say you were fine.”

“You called Jake?”

“What else was I supposed to do?” After a short, loaded pause, she asks, “So, who drove you home last night?”

“I took an Uber.”

“Man, things got pretty wild near the end. I don’t even remember getting into Marty’s car or crawling into bed.”

“Had a good time, then?” I ask.

“Unbelievable time. It’s been ages since I felt that happy. But then I woke up this morning to that text from Jake, and it totally ruined the mood.”

“About his transfer to Oncology?”

“Yeah. Apparently, one of their nurses went on emergency leave, so they needed an immediate placement. It was completely out of the blue. I was floored.”

“He seemed pretty level-headed about it.”

“Well, Jake never makes a scene. That’s not his style. He was such an incredible asset to our floor. I’m really going to miss him.”

I offer a quiet, noncommittal hum. I keep my mouth shut because I know I’m the exact reason he’s being reassigned.

As the sedan glides past the hospital gates, I watch the brick building recede in the passenger mirror. When we make the turn onto Napien Street, I whisper into the receiver, “Kim, I’ve got to let you go.”

“Okay,” Kim says, pausing. “But you’re definitely okay, right? You had a lot to drink last night. An Uber ride alone wasn’t exactly the safest move. I was completely wasted too, but at least I was with a group.”

“I’m fine,” I say as the car begins to brake. “Thankfully, everything worked out.”

The car glides to a stop directly at the curb of my driveway.

“Anyway, talk soon. Bye,” I tell Kim, quickly cutting the line.

I slip the phone into my bag and look across the console at the driver. “Thank you so much.”

Only now does it hit me that we never even traded names. She never asked for mine, and I never thought to ask hers. I suppose it doesn’t matter. She doesn’t seem like the type who wants to make small talk or build a network. She got me back to my doorstep safely, and that’s all I needed.

“No problem,” she says. “It was on my way regardless. Didn’t have to change my route.”

“Still… you really bailed me out. Thanks again. Have a good day.”

“You too.”

I unbuckle, step out into the crisp morning air, and shut the door. As the sedan pulls away from the curb, I turn toward the house I’m renting with a few roommates.

My eyes drift to the numbers, 151 Napien, hand-carved into the weathered wooden sign hanging by the porch.

And then, I freeze.

I never told her which house was mine. I only gave her the name of the street. Not the house number. Not even which side of the block.

So… how did she know exactly where to pull over?

Who the hell was she?