Free The Dark Ones by Anthony Izzo

the state police, you know.”
    “You’re a real gentleman.”
    “Maybe you can hitch a ride.”
    She picked up her bag and brushed past him. She paused on the bus steps and looked back at the passengers, none of whom would look at her. “Cowards.”
    Sara stepped into the night.
     
     
    She sat on the bench, arms wrapped around herself. She had buttoned the jacket up to her neck, but it provided little warmth against the breeze. After kicking her off the bus, the driver had retrieved her suitcase from underneath. Sara had tried getting his name, but he would not give it, and she imagined the other passengers would corroborate his story if she complained to Greyhound. One pain-in-the-ass passenger removed from the bus. Yea for the bus driver.
    Leaving home was beginning to seem like a horrible mistake. Hitching a ride didn’t seem like a great idea. The driver of the pickup truck, a bearded man in hunting camouflage, gave her a glance and drove off. The motorcycle rider was a white-haired guy, maybe in his sixties, who had stuffed himself into a set of leathers. It looked like a Halloween costume. The prospect of hitting either one of them up for a ride didn’t thrill her.
    After ten minutes on the bench, she decided to move to the alcove outside the restroom. A glass wall partially deflected the breeze, and she felt some warmth creep back into her body. Beyond the rest stop, she watched the cars zip past, making lonely humming noises on the asphalt, all of them unaware of her. Every so often, she heard a branch snap or grass rustle and worried that her pursuers had found her. Since she had not been attacked, she assumed it was a raccoon or deer.
    She thought of calling home, having David (thinking of him as Dad didn’t seem to fit at the moment) come and get her, but that would prevent her from finding Laura Pennington. She wanted to see the woman, touch her, embrace her. Her supposed mother. Who had been taken from her. But could she build a relationship with a complete stranger? She wasn’t a little girl anymore, and would Laura Pennington even be interested?
    She suddenly felt even more miserable. Her gut hurt and a lump formed in her throat. She told herself to be tough.
    A car pulled into the rest stop, and as it approached, Sara saw it was a midnight-blue BMW. It swung into a parking spot and the driver got out. The driver was a blond woman, striking in her features. Long hair, pale eyes. She wore a long leather coat, and underneath that a turtleneck and knee-length skirt. The ensemble was topped off with knee-high black boots. She looked as if she belonged on a runway in Milan.
    Sara shrank against the brick wall. The woman approached, her boots clicking on the pavement. Sara smelled perfume and under it, a whiff of cigarette smoke. The woman nearly passed her, then paused.
    “Oh, didn’t see you there.”
    “Didn’t mean to startle you,” Sara said.
    “You didn’t. Are you here by yourself? I didn’t see any cars in the parking lot.”
    “My bus pulled away without me.”
    “You poor dear,” the woman said, and placed her hand on Sara’s arm. “I live nearby. Can I give you a ride?” She smiled, revealing small, perfect teeth.
    She didn’t know the woman, but at this point, she couldn’t be choosy about a ride. “Okay. I’m Sara, by the way.”
    “Joanne,” she said. “Let me just use the bathroom and we’ll hit the road. ’Kay?”
    Sara nodded. She expected the woman to have an exotic name, like Nadia or Eva, but she was just plain old Joanne. Not that she looked plain.
    Joanne swung the bathroom door open, and the odor of disinfectant and old urine wafted out. “Come on,” she said and got ahead of Sara, taking impossibly long strides. She had no idea what Joanne did for a living but if David saw her, he would no doubt categorize her as a “nut buster.”
    Sara grabbed her suitcase and followed Joanne, who took the luggage from her, popped the trunk, and tossed it in. Sara climbed