Daddy's Little Liar - Maren Smith Page 0,1
tried to put weight back on her right foot again. Yelping, she grabbed her leg, hopping once more to spare herself the worst of the shooting pain. She got her balance back, but not without a lot of swearing.
Pulling herself together, she forcibly swallowed back the rest of her profanity-laced tirade. It wasn’t helping. Sighing, she mentally hiked her big-girl panties as high as they would go and started limping. It was either that or sit down in the dirt in her good interviewing clothes and wait for someone to tractor on by. With the sun already dipping its southern-most curve below the rocky desert-and-scrub horizon, she could be out here for hours before spotting anyone. She didn’t own anything reflective. She’d be lucky if they didn’t hit her.
The sun had completely set, taking almost all the light with it, and she had limped maybe a mile before the low rumble of—called it—a field tractor happened upon her. It was huge and green, with a fully enclosed cab every bit as dark as the shadowy fields surrounding her. She couldn’t see inside, not even enough to make out the form of whoever was driving it, although that might have been due more to the brightness of the headlights blinding her.
Shielding her eyes against the glare, she was still trying to decide if her fear of potentially catching a ride with a rural serial killer was greater than the throbbing agony walking on her ankle when said ‘serial killer’ decided for her. The door on her side of the cab popped open, and a weathered woman who had to be at least fifty leaned out.
“That your Camaro broke down half-mile back?”
She’d only gone half a mile? Georgia’s face must have shown her dismay because the older woman’s voice gentled.
“Need a ride into town?”
She’d never hitched a ride from a stranger in her life, but then she’d never been stranded in such a remote location at night with a twisted ankle. Georgia looked down the dark, dirt road toward a horizon barely haloed by what might eventually turn out to be city lights.
“It’s about another two miles to Solstice,” the woman on the tractor said. As if sensing her reluctance, she beckoned. “Come on, honey, hop in.”. “I’ll take you.”
Super Woman Georgia was not. She hobbled to the tractor.
Hopping in meant hopping up a short, three-step ladder attached to the side of the enormous tractor, but Georgia did it. She comforted herself with the knowledge when it came to rural murderers, one rarely thought of women, and one rarely used tractors. Chainsaws, yes. John Deere, not so much.
Georgia settled gingerly on the buddy seat beside the driver, and the farm vehicle lurched into motion. They clipped along at a pretty decent twenty miles an hour, bouncing in and out of every ankle-killing rut the weathered dirt road offered. The pain in her ankle didn’t feel any better now that she was off it, in fact, it got worse. Her whole leg seemed to throb along with the rumbling vibrations of the tractor. Grabbing her knee and locking her jaw, she tried to take her mind off the worst of it.
“Thank you for the ride,” Georgia said.
“No, problem.” The other woman smiled. “I’ll drop you at Dad’s. Best mechanic in town.” She snorted. “Only mechanic in town, for that matter.”
At least they had one.
“I appreciate it. Hopefully, your dad can fix my car, so I can get back on the road.”
Her snort becoming a sharp bark of laughter, the older woman said, “He’s not my daddy, honey. I said Dad, as in, Dad’s Garage. It’s the name of his mechanic shop.”
“Oh.”
“Don’t worry. He’s good, and he won’t cheat you. Guaranteed.”
For two miles, they bumped along in semi-companionable, semi-awkward silence. Georgia held onto her leg, trying to cushion it from the worst of the jarring. She kept hoping the pain would get better, but with every new bump and jostle, the opposite kept happening. Her jaw tightened, and her mouth clenched. When the tractor hit a sizeable pothole, she raised her foot off the floor, but the agonizing shocks that radiated all the way to her knee had her sucking air and even rocking a little.
The other woman noticed. “Want me to take you to Doc Johnson first?”
“God, no!” Georgia caught herself and quickly apologized. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say it like that. I just…” Can’t afford the gas for this trip, much less the car repair. “I-I’ll be fine.”
A doctor was