At least it wasn’t raining.
Afternoon sunlight slanted through the tops of the trees, though the thick forest that surrounded the two-lane road still gave a sinister vibe. It wasn’t a bad day, going by the weather. Other events were putting it high on Naomi’s list of least favorite days.
Such as the flat tire that was the reason her sedan was parked on the shoulder, and why she was struggling to rearrange the body in her trunk to get at the spare tire.
Normally, it would take her just minutes to get what she needed, change the tire, and be on her way again.
But the fates had chosen this moment, when her trunk was stuffed with something she couldn’t remove because she’d never get it back in again alone, to give her a flat tire.
Naomi, though, was made of stern stuff. Petite she might be, but she had an iron will, and her muscles weren’t bad either. She had finally wrestled the spare tire out, shoving the tarp-covered body as far to the side as was safe without having it fall out onto the road, and was looking for the jack when she heard the rumble of an engine approaching behind her.
She reached to shut the trunk but realized with panic that the corpse’s legs, complete with brown suede derbies and the cuffed ends of khaki pants, were hanging out the side. Her efforts had displaced the tarp, exposing what she absolutely did not need anyone to see.
With lightning movements, she shoved the legs back inside and slammed her trunk shut just as the car she’d heard pulled up behind her. She whirled around.
It was a burly-looking older model sedan, the front bumper shiny chrome and the hood an expanse of clean, polished black. She heard the strains of one of her favorite tunes, Linda Ronstadt warbling “You’re No Good,” drifting from the open window before the driver switched it off.
The man who emerged was also burly, but a blond, blue-eyed, wholesome version. He slammed the door shut and gave her a boyish smile, shoving his hands into the front pockets of his faded jeans.
“Hey! Flat tire? That sucks. Need any help?”
Naomi shook her head, making her honey-brown hair swing. “No, I have it under control. Thanks for stopping, though.”
He nodded but didn’t move. “Sure.”
She saw his eyes take in the spare tire and lug wrench she’d placed to one side. “Got your jack?” he asked.
“Yes, I’ve got a jack,” she replied. Unfortunately, it was still somewhere in her trunk. “Really, I’m fine. You don’t need to hang around.”
He didn’t take the hint. “No worries. I’ll get my jack.” He opened his door to pull the lever that popped the trunk, then disappeared behind his car.
Naomi huffed a sigh. Clearly, the man had not seen what was in her trunk, so maybe if she just let him do his Galahad thing, he’d be satisfied and be on his way. She picked up the lug wrench and went to start loosening the nuts on the flat tire.
His feet crunched on the road gravel as he approached. She kept an eye on him, assessing his body language, which seemed non-threatening.
“Flat as flat can be!” he observed jovially. He knelt in the dirt where the asphalt ended and the forest soil began and shoved the jack under the car. “You wanna do the honors?” he asked, offering her the lever to pump the car up.
“No, you go ahead,” she said. She moved to bring the spare tire over while he gave the jack a few swift pumps, lifting the car up until the flat was well clear of the ground.
“So, who’s that you’re keeping in your trunk?” he asked as she was bending to pick up the spare.
She froze.
“Looked like a guy, from what I saw. I’m guessing he did something to you that deserved murder?”
Now he was removing the lug nuts and collecting them in one hand. One nut spun off its bolt and sailed into the pine litter before he could catch it. “Oh, fudge,” he muttered, reaching for it.
Naomi picked up the spare tire, took two steps toward the man, and swung the tire, walloping him in the head.
The man crumpled to the ground with a grunt, his hands over his head, the remaining nuts flying in silvery arcs to land who knew where. He stayed there, but she could tell he wasn’t completely unconscious because he was gripping his head and uttering angry little whimpers.
A rope… she needed a rope to tie him up, quick. No way was she going to actually kill anyone, so she needed time to think about what to do with this guy. The only rope she had was currently in use, wrapped around the person occupying her trunk. But this guy probably had rope in his car!
She dropped the spare and ran over to pop his car’s trunk, then ran to the back, her fingers crossed that he had something in there she could use.
In fact, he did have a rope, she saw that right away. It was knotted neatly around the dead body in his trunk.
She observed the differences between the victim in the stranger’s trunk and the one in her own. This one was also a guy, a bit fat. A veritable pelt of body hair showed around the edges of his Nike tank top. Long, baggy shorts, athletic shoes with no socks. He had a bullet hole in his forehead.
She slammed the trunk closed.
It would have been too late for a rope anyhow. The man was already sitting up. He glared at her as she approached.
“You didn’t need to do that,” he grumbled. “It really hurt.”
“Sorry.” She spotted one of the nuts hiding in the dirt and started searching them out and picking them up. “So, who’s that you’re keeping in your trunk?” she asked.
The man chuckled. It should have sounded creepy, but instead Naomi found herself grinning back at him.
“I asked first,” he challenged.
She shrugged. “He was my despicable, abusive boss. But I didn’t kill him. That was kind of a joint effort by some of my coworkers, organized by one of the women he raped. My part is to get rid of the body, that’s all. But he absolutely deserved it. Several times over.”
He nodded and gave the back of his head a final wincing rub before hoisting himself to his feet.
“Mine was a neighbor of a friend,” he explained. He grabbed the flat tire, still hanging drunkenly from its bolts, and pulled it off. “Hand me the spare, please. Gently.”
Naomi did so. He fitted it onto the posts.
“And why did he deserve to end up… where he is?” she asked, handing him the nuts she’d collected one by one.
“He was a coach at the school where my friend’s kids go. He was also an equal-opportunity pedophile. Boys, girls, he was fine with it all.”
“I see.” She handed him the lug wrench and watched him tighten each nut with swift strength. “And how did you get involved?”
“Just something I do.”
“Professional?”
“You could say that.” He stood, twisted the jack handle so the car sank back to the ground, and finished tightening the nuts while Naomi put the flat tire in her back seat.
The task complete, they stood and regarded each other.
“Look, I can see you’re a very capable person, but if you need any help with…” he gestured to the back of her car.
Naomi smiled and shook her head. “I appreciate the offer, but I’ll be okay. Besides, you have your own” she repeated his gesture, indicating his car, “to deal with.”
He flashed another grin. “Right. Well, in that case…” He offered her his hand. When she took it, his grip was firm, his hand warm and dry. He released her with the barest caress of his fingers against her palm, sending a shiver up her spine. His smile faded and his eyes darkened with a bewildered longing.
“May I know your name?” he asked.
“I think it’s better if we don’t,” she said, her tone regretful.
“You’re right. Best we stay strangers. But I’m glad to have met you.”
“Me too. Thanks for your help. And good luck with your profession.”
He laughed. “You too. Bye now.” He waved as he turned away, the jack dangling from his other hand, and strode back to his car.
Back on the road, Naomi could still feel his touch on the palm of her hand. She realized that some of the people she knew in her life, such as the sadistic scumbag in her trunk, were ones she wished had stayed strangers. But then there were strangers who came and went that she was destined to remember forever.