Sanctuary Read Online Free Page B

bother?
    Leaning her head back slightly, Melissa forced herself to relax a bit. Traffic in her lane had slowed to a crawl. To think I met Ryan in the month of Daddy’s birth , she mused. And yet, in the selfsame month she was leaving everything that was ever good and true.
    A never-ending screen of trees and wild ferns on either side of the road appeared to close in on her. Inching her car forward, she noticed the ceiling-sky beginning to fade from its sapphire hue as the sun prepared for its slow dive over distant hills to the west. At times, the pavement itself seemed to disappear as additional vehicles vied for space.
    More than once, she was tempted to use her cell phone to call Ryan. Oh, to hear his voice—the notion both thrilled and terrified her. She dared not succumb to temptation. Cell phones were dangerously susceptible to tracing.
    By now Ryan would have made a myriad of phone calls to their neighbors, to Ali, and to the florist shop where she was employed. He may have already reported her missing to the police. Calling home was out of the question. The hazard was too great.
    She ought to think about settling in somewhere for the night. Somewhere out of the way where she could make her next call from a safe phone. On the other hand, she didn’t want to put herself in a more precarious spot—leaving the highway, getting off the road and into a rural area where she could easily become a sitting duck. She’d have to wait until after sundown.
    Daddy always waited for nightfall , Melissa recalled. Yet she’d never consciously realized this fact as a girl, in spite of the many road trips they’d taken together. She remembered, very clearly, one night when she and her father had set out to visit Grandpa and Nana Clark, her mother’s parents. Though she had never known her mother, who passed away when she was two, Melissa loved to visit her only living grandparents. And Daddy never seemed to mind driving the winding, mountainous roads over Loveland Pass, through the long Eisenhower Tunnel, then past Vail and Glenwood Springs, to Grand Junction. They sang campfire songs as they drove. Sometimes, they kept track of out-of-state license plates. And Daddy had his own songs, too. Silly little tunes he made up at will. On occasion they talked of his fondest memories of her mother, though for the most part, he shied away from things too sentimental. Or too painful.

    It was nearly six o’clock when she spotted the exit sign for New Rochelle, New York. She would allow herself a very brief stop at the city nestled on the north shore of Long Island Sound in Southern Westchester County. Just long enough to gas up and purchase a few snacks and something to drink, at “The Queen City of the Sound”—inspiration for Broadway’s former smash hit Ragtime and home to both Robert Merrill, opera star, and Norman Rockwell, America’s popular artist.
    Melissa knew the place well. She and Ryan liked to poke around in the shops that lined historic Main Street, where fruits and vegetables could be purchased in the same vicinity as children’s toys and athletic apparel.
    Glancing in her rearview mirror, she surveyed the car directly behind her. A blue sports car. Hadn’t she noticed it earlier? Back near Fairfield, maybe?
    Changing lanes, she stepped on the accelerator, but the blue car sped up, nearly on her bumper now. Instantly, her throat closed up. She was being followed, just as she feared!
    Keep your cool!
    Anticipating the exit, she rejected the urge to use her turn signal. Yet the blue Mustang veered into the far right lane just as she did. She strained to see the driver’s face in her rearview mirror. If she could just manage that without causing an accident.
    She was about to focus on the man’s face when she heard the driver in the next lane blare his horn. A good thing, too, for she nearly plowed into the car in front of her, halfway to the end of the crowded exit ramp.
    “Watch where you’re going!” the driver