The little country cottage that I called home was on the western outskirts of town, and that meant a two-mile walk to work and back. I never did learn to drive. James always said he'd teach me, but we never got there. And anyway, I liked walking. There was nothing like crisp, clean air to wake you up in the morning or the warm afternoon sun to escort to you home.
The only problem with walking to get around is you rely on the weather. Castle Rock is usually fine and warm at that time of year, but as I finished work at the diner, I saw that the sky was darkening and threatening heavy rain. Rose flicked on the radio, and we heard that a storm was expected to hit Castle Rock head on. She offered for me to stay the night, but I was optimistic that I could beat the worst of it home. The winds were far too gusty for an umbrella, and so I stepped out to withstand the elements in just my cotton, knee-length waitress dress. I was thankful I was wearing comfortable shoes because I wouldn't be walking home that day – I'd be running.
The stores' overhanging eaves offered some shelter for the first part of my jog, but they were quickly left behind. As I pounded the pavement through the residential streets, I kept glancing up to keep a close eye on the clouds.
A fat drop splattered on my cheek and then blew off with the wind. I felt another one splat on my forehead, and then another and another until they were coming in thick and steady. I tried to trick myself into thinking that it wasn't so bad, but as the steady trickle became a surging torrent, I wasn't fooling anyone. I kept up my long strides as my shoes became soaked in the puddles and my soggy dress stuck tight to my skin.
The streets had been void of traffic until a jet black '52 Ford pickup truck sped past me with its wheels spraying up water at either side. I didn't think much of it until the brake lights came on, and it slowed to a stop just up ahead. Squinting in the downpour, I caught up to it and looked through the window to see Ace stretching across the seat to wind it down.
I took off at a ripping pace, much faster than I intended; some idiotic part of my brain seemed to think that if I ran fast enough I'd lose him. But the black beast was soon riding alongside with its V8 engine letting out subtle growls every time Ace's foot touched the accelerator.
The sound made me melt.
"Wanna ride?" Ace yelled out the open window, his voice extra powerful to combat the deafening, bombarding rain.
"No!"
"Come on, you're soaked! I'll give you a ride!"
I struggled to run for half a block more, and then my body betrayed me by slowing down to a fast-paced walk. My lungs were hurting, and running against the strong winds wasn't easy.
Ace stretched over to the passenger's side to give the door a swift shove, swinging it wide open. "Cassie! Stop being a stubborn bitch and get in the fuckin' truck!"
My frozen knees seized up, bringing me to a halt. They knew they'd only carried me half the journey and that the last mile wouldn't get any easier. I shot a sulky glance at Ace who was sitting comfortably in his dry surroundings. It seemed so grossly unfair.
A flash of lightning streaked across the sky just above us, and the thunder that followed boomed so loud it was almost deafening. That was as much as I could take. In a split-second decision, I dived for the open door and clambered inside.
"Weather took a turn for the worst today," he said coolly.
I didn't reply. I didn't even look at him. I just wound up the window and then sat there sulking.
"Where to?" he asked.
"I don't want a ride. As soon as this eases up a little, I'm walking home."
"This shit ain't gonna ease up anytime soon, and I ain't waiting here all afternoon."
"Fine. Then don't bother." I moved to open the door but he grabbed my arm to stop me.
"Whoa OK, Miss. Bossy Pants. We'll wait a little bit."
Ace cut the engine, and I eased back into my seat. I cursed myself for not agreeing to stay with Rose and Violet. I pictured them both wrapped up in their cozy crocheted blankets by the fire, drinking hot tea with some warm, freshly baked muffins. Instead, I was sitting in a cold truck, drenched through to my underwear with this obnoxious and arrogant, insufferable asshole for company.
"Why did you pick me up?" I asked. "Why didn't you just roll down the window and laugh as you drove on by?"
"That wouldn't have been the gentlemanly thing to do now, would it?"
I almost broke into a fit of sarcastic laughter. But I remained composed. "You're the last person I would have expected to help me."
"Now, who says I can't be a nice guy?"
"Just cut the shit. Tell me what you want."
Ace relaxed back a bit like he was making himself comfortable for the long-haul. I really began to wonder what I was in for. "Have you figured it out yet?" he asked.
"Figured what out?"
"How I knew."
"Maybe some of it; I'm not sure."
"A few months back, you were picked up way out on the highway and dropped into town by a couple of guys in a blue Studebaker."
"Vince."
"That's right. There's a farmhouse a few miles back from where they got you. The guy who lives there was complaining that his place got trashed and some of his stuff got stolen."
"OK, for the record, I didn't trash the place. I merely used it. I was hurt – badly. And there was nobody there, and I had nowhere else to go. And I only took some food and a shirt because mine was all bloody. I was desperate. So, whoever said-"
"Hey, I couldn't give a fuck what you did. It wasn't my place. But for a couple of weeks after Vince dropped you into town, some of the stores started noticing that stuff was going missing at nights. But there was never any sign of a break-in. No prints, no clues, just a bunch of missing shit. The cops never did catch the thief – probably because they were looking for a guy." Ace's eyes flicked over me. "Who would've thought?"
I guessed for someone like him, he might have been impressed, but I certainly wasn't proud of any of it.
"How did you do it?" he asked.
"Do what?"
"Get in and out without breaking the door down or smashing a window. Without leaving the cops one damn clue to go on."
"Sorry, that's... I'm not gonna talk about that."
"Why the hell not?"
"Because if you go to the cops, at least you won't be able to tell them 'how' I did it. And if you don't have a complete story..."
"I'd never rat someone out like that."
"So, you'd just make me 'disappear'?. What would be your plan for that anyway?"
"I only said that 'cause' you fucking wound me up," Ace huffed. "You need to start watching what you say. Mouth like that will only get you into trouble."
I pouted out the window for a while, watching the trees blowing wildly at a vertical angle and listening to the wind howling at our feet under the thin floor of the truck.
"I picked the locks," I whispered.
"Oh yeah? How'd you learn how to do that?"
"James." It felt strange saying that name. It must have been eight months since I'd spoken it, but I thought about him every day. Some days I thought I was over him, some days I remembered how much I hated him for what he did, but most of my time was spent giving myself a reality check that none of that mattered anymore because I'd never see him again.
"Old boyfriend?"
"Not... officially. He was a good friend for a long time, and he knew lots of stuff about everything. Sometimes I called him a walking encyclopedia. But anyway, this one time, I forgot my keys and locked myself out of the house. My mother wasn't answering, and so I got James to come over to open it for me. Picked the lock. I thought a skill like that might come in handy, and so he taught me. Good thing because I got locked out of the house a lot. But it also became a kind of hobby, I guess."
"Your hobby's picking locks?" he said with a laugh.
"The tougher the lock, the greater the challenge. It's like beating a puzzle box."
"You competitive?"
"Can be. So, is that is for the twenty questions?"
"Not yet."
"Well, that's too bad because I'm done talking." I regretted mentioning James. He was supposed to be a distant memory now. He was supposed to be gone from me.
"So, how'd you get all the way out there?"
"No more questions."
"Lewis left you stranded out there, didn't he? Did you have an argument? Or did you just not want a life on the run?"
I glared at him, cock-eyed like he'd just been speaking to me in fluent Chinese. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"You are Cassie O'Connor, right?"
"Yeah..." I replied, surprised to hear him say my surname.
"Do you know where he is?"
"Where who is?"
"'Cause if you know, then the faster you fess up, the better."
A strange feeling crept over me, making my wet and already goose bumped skin prickle. I was fearful that the big black box that had been concealing half a year of my life was about to be opened. I wanted to keep it locked forever... although I had no idea why.
"I don't... I don't know who you're talking about," I said sharply. "I mean, like I said, I don't remember. So, stop asking."
"Playing ignorant ain't gonna work."
"I'm not playing ignorant. I really don't remember." The cab of the truck suddenly felt tiny and claustrophobic like it had shrunk in around me from all sides. I wanted to get out of there, but casting myself back out into the storm would have given me the flu.
"They will catch up with you Cassie, and if you know-"
"I don't know! I don't know anything! All I remember is being at my mother's funeral back in October, and then the next minute I'm waking up in some barn by the side of the highway with a massive gash at the back of my head, my hair matted in blood, a throbbing headache..."
It was Ace's turn to look at me cock-eyed. "You don't remember anything since October?"
"Between October and early this year. I mean, it felt like time had passed, you know? But... there's just nothing there. It's empty."
Ace scoffed. "You're gonna have to come up with a better story than that."
"I'm not lying. And I'm not trying to hide anything or anyone." I leaned forwards slightly on my seat and lifted my ponytail. "Go ahead. Feel. Maybe I hit it on something. I don't know."
Ace roughly dug his fingers into my damp hair. He prodded around until he found the two-inch long dent which runs at an odd 45-degree angle across the back of my skull. "Jesus, that's been hit pretty fuckin' hard..."
"I guess I fell."
"Or someone's whacked you with a crowbar..."
"I was afraid you'd say something like that."
Ace sighed deeply and rubbed his forehead with his fingers. "That sorta thing happened to Eyeball's cousin. They say his old man used to beat him so bad every night that his brain started blocking the memories out. He doesn't remember anything before he was ten which was when the mother finally got him outta there."
"That's terrible."
"Yeah."
"So, you believe me then."
Ace paused. "I never said that. Just that it's possible."
"I know it sounds crazy. That's why I've always kept it to myself."
"Well, whether you remember him or not, if you ever catch up with this Lewis guy again, you let me know before anyone, you got it?"
"Why?"
"Because I need to find him."
"Why?"
"Because I just do."
"Well, I don't owe you shit." I rubbed my arms and could hardly feel my fingers. My wet clothes had frozen me to the bone and my entire body was pleading me for a hot shower. I trembled and looked out the window, hoping that the weather would begin to ease up. But the storm was just getting started.
Ace began to strip off his black, leather jacket and I did a double-take, noticing for the first time how good he looked in it. He was wearing a clean white T-shirt tucked into light blue Levi's, and every strand of his blond hair was perfectly in its place. In contrast, he had soft stubble on his cheeks and chin like he hadn't shaved in a week. Tidy with just a touch of rough. I realized my mouth was agape and closed it before mentally slapping myself for the stray thought.
Ace held the jacket out for me to take.
"It's a bit late to try buttering me up, don't you think?" I said through chattering teeth.
"Take it. You sit here any longer and you're gonna get hypothermia."
"I'll be just fine."
Ace laughed to himself, shaking his head.
"What?" I demanded. "What's so funny?"
"I've known some stubborn chicks in my time, but you take the cake."
I looked down to see that my knees were purple, and I couldn't feel my toes. I began to consider selling some pride for a lift home. The reality that I could be out of the truck and standing in a hot shower in five minutes time was beginning to sound really appealing.
"Fuck this," Ace said, and he brought the truck back to life with an ear-splitting growl. He sank his foot to the floor, and we slid all over the road before the tires got a grip.
"Where are we going?" I asked, clutching the door.
He turned down a few streets before pulling into my driveway.
"You knew where I lived all along? Why didn't you say so?"
"Didn't think you'd invite me in."
"You've got that right. And don't come by here ever again. You hear?" I got out of the truck and wanted to slam the door behind me, but the wind was so strong that I could barely close it.
I made a break for my front porch as he backed down the drive. As I felt around under the flowerpot for my key, I heard him exploiting all the fresh, slippery wetness he could, to do one massive long peel out the entire length of my road.