The Wild Road Read Online Free PDF Page B

vanilla and sported wide shawl collars draped against long bell sleeves. The woman felt like a trespasser handling these clothes, but she forced herself to change. When she stood, her feet hurt. They ached so badly she was hardly certain she would be able to walk out of the place.
    She looked for a mirror but found nothing. She still did not know what her face looked like. The skin around her knees was stained with blood, but she had no place, no time, to wash herself. The skirt came down to her calves. The woman touched her chin and felt smooth clean skin. The blood was gone. She hoped.
    The woman found a garbage bin by the bed. Empty, except for a plastic bag. She stuffed her old clothes inside and tied the loops tight, swung it between her fingers and hobbled to the door. The hall outside was quiet, empty, elegantly decorated in neutral tones and antiques. She held her breath and started walking, each step pure agony. The floor did not creak. At the top of the stairs, she heard faint voices, dishes rattling.
    “Well, I can see you’re not a lost cause,” said Frederick, sounding exasperated. “You go to such trouble to avoid others, and in the same night, you bring home a strange woman?”
    “She needed help,” replied Lannes, his voice low, practically a growl. “Did you expect me to leave her in the road?”
    “Of course not. But-oh, damn my hands. Give me that towel, will you?”
    “I’ll clean it up. Here, just…just sit. Rest. I’m sorry I got you up.”
    “I would have been furious if you hadn’t.”
    “I didn’t know what to do. She collapsed.”
    “It could have been a ruse.”
    “You don’t believe that, not after meeting her.”
    “No,” said the old man quietly. “But some crime has been committed. The blood on her clothing, the gun…”
    “Unloaded. And even if it hadn’t been, she couldn’t have hurt me.”
    “You’re too sure of yourself.”
    “Better than the alternative,” said Lannes grimly, and for a moment the woman wanted to go to him. She wanted to find those two men and ask for their help. Maybe they would turn her in, maybe they would hurt her, but the risk seemed small compared to the possibility of getting what she needed.
    What did she need? A kind word. Some sense, even for a short time, that she was safe. Not alone. Protected from a solitude so gaping, so terrible, she could hardly stand it. Her entire history, all her memories, fit within the last three hours. She did not know who she was.
    But you know what you feel. Count on that if nothing else. Rely on nothing else.
    Her only other option was to give up. Not to the police, but on life. Find a nice bridge somewhere and jump. But the idea filled her with such skin-crawling revulsion-such anger at herself-that she abandoned it in less than a heartbeat.
    She was not going to take the easy way out. She refused. An awful thing had happened-she might have done an awful thing-and it was up to her to find out what and why. Somehow. Even if she had no idea where to begin.
    You won’t find out who you are here. Alone is better. No one else will get hurt.
    Maybe. The woman sidled down the stairs, feet throbbing. It was incredibly difficult to walk. Directly ahead was the front door. Dishes still rattled-behind her, down another hall-and she held her breath, moving as fast as she could. The socks were so large on her feet the toes flopped, but at least they were silent. She kept expecting to hear footsteps behind her, a shout, but nothing happened. Not even when she unbolted the door and turned the knob.
    Cold air rushed over her face. She stepped over the threshold. Behind her, she heard, “Wait.”
    The woman did not wait. She slipped into the night, slamming the door behind her, and took off, hobbling as fast as she could past the gate to the sidewalk. Her heart pounded in her ears and her breathing rasped. Her feet felt like they were on fire. She heard nothing behind her, not a single sound of pursuit…but before she