Hurricane House Read Online Free Page B

Ladies Room and peeked out at the rest-area parking lot. No Hummer, only two cars, one camper and a woman walking her white poodle.
    Purple clouds threatened more rain, but for now, not even a sprinkle. Thankful for the break in the storm, she took a deep breath and ran toward the BP. She’d call Kenny, tell him what happened and ask him to pick her up. He owed her. She had cleaned his truck and in exchange he’d promised he’d take her to Geneva’s in Tallahassee. He was supposed to pick her up from the McDonald’s at 7 p.m. She’d waited three hours. He never showed and didn’t even answer his phone.
    Ellen fumed over Kenny’s irresponsible behavior as she ran to the BP Station. Her lungs burned and she was panting for breath when she walked into the station. The place looked un-staffed, no one behind the counter. A wave of fear came over her. Crazy. What’s going on? Ellen walked through the store cautiously, glancing behind every nook. Finally, she spotted a middle-aged, blond woman squatting near the cappuccino machine. Her name-tag said, Lorraine.
    Lorraine jumped up when she noticed Ellen. “Door don’t ring. Can I help you?”
    Ellen made an effort to talk but still no voice. What had her life become? Hitchhiking homeless was bad enough, but now she had lost her voice, when singing was what she loved most.
    Ellen mouthed the words, “I can’t talk,” and pulled up her sleeve to show her bruise. She pointed to a pen and yellow pad on the counter next to the cash register, but the clerk squinted, as if confused.
    Ellen walked around to the other side of the counter and picked up the pad and pen. She wrote, “A man attacked me & I’m in shock & I can’t talk.” Ellen didn’t see any reason to go into detail as to why she’d lost her voice. Let Lorraine think I’m mute.
    After reading Ellen’s note, Lorraine said, “Want me to call the cops?”
    Ellen shrugged. The cops would say a hitchhiker gets what she deserves, but if she didn’t report what happened, John would feel free to attack another woman.
    Ellen wrote, “Yes, and please call my friend Kenny to come and get me.” Ellen gave the clerk Kenny’s number.
    While Lorraine made the calls, Ellen looked for something to soothe her throat. She bought a pint of chocolate ice cream, cough drops and a Pepsi.
    “Cops’ll be here soon, but I don’t know about your trucker friend. Said his rig broke down. He may get here or may not, depending on if he can get it up and running. Said he’d call back in the next ten minutes if he can’t make it.”
    Ellen wrote, “Thank you.”
    Lorraine opened the door to a storage area and pulled out a folding chair. “Take a load off, honey.”
    Ellen smiled her thanks, sat down and decided to write out a police report. She had finished the report, eaten half the quart of ice cream and was sucking on a cough drop by the time the sheriff’s department’s white Ford cruiser pulled up.
    “Hi, Billy,” Lorraine said to the first cop, about forty, a thin man with a shiny baldhead like he’d shaved it. He and Lorraine looked to be the same height, five-seven maybe.
    “Hi Lorra Lee,” Billy said, giving her a hug.
    The female cop with him was a dishwater blond, who looked like a high-school student wearing a uniform and playing “pretend.”
    Lorraine smiled at Billy and slipped her arm around Ellen’s shoulder in a show of support. “Bless her heart, she can’t talk, but she can write.”
    Ellen gave the officers her driver’s license for identification.
    “What happened?” Billy asked, expressionless.
    Ellen handed him her two-page, handwritten epistle.
    Billy scanned both pages; then gave them to the female cop. “Can you hear me okay?” he shouted. The cop probably yelled because he thought she was not only mute, but deaf, Ellen thought. “We’ll need a name, a description of the man who allegedly attacked you, and his license plate.”
    Ellen frowned. She had written all she knew in the