Hurricane House Read Free

Kenny would get around to checking his messages and calling her back. He’d already proven he couldn’t be trusted. He’d promised to pick her up at the McDonald’s hours ago, but he never showed, and she needed to get to Geneva’s house before she left for the beach. Otherwise, Ellen wouldn’t have a clue what Geneva wanted her to do. It had been six years since she’d cleaned and organized Geneva’s place. Long enough for Geneva to marry a lawyer/politician and move into a house that, according to the photos, looked like something a Barbie doll would live in.
    Thinking about Geneva, Ellen felt a wave of gratitude. No doubt that woman was heaven sent. No other way to explain why she’d interviewed her and wrote that “Singing Hitchhiker” article. Thanks to Geneva, Ellen could finally leave the road. No more risking her life and limb with strangers. Now she’d be safe and productive as a live-in housekeeper.
    Ellen positioned the strap of her duffle bag over her shoulder and walked toward the Hummer. The bag contained everything a veteran hitchhiker would need, including a canister of pepper spray.
    She wondered why anyone would want to drive a car as big and costly as a house. “Are you serious? Going all the way to Tallahassee?”
    He smiled. “Sure am.”
    “I’m soaked, might ruin your upholstery.”
    “Don’t worry about it.”
    Ellen edged into the seat beside him and put her duffle on her lap. The Hummer looked clean, but contained a musty odor. A long fridge lay on its side in the back. “Thanks. You can drop me off at the nearest Tallahassee exit. I’ll take a cab from there.”
    He grabbed the strap of Ellen’s bag. “Let me put this in the back for you.” “No, I’d rather hold it.” The nerve of him, trying to take my stuff. He flashed Ellen a movie star smile, perfect teeth. “You from Tallahassee?”
    “No.” She told herself to stay calm as she reached inside the bag to locate the pepper spray.
    He turned to face her. “Just visiting?”
    “Don’t know, I may move there permanently.”
    “Where’re you staying in Tallahassee?”
    Ellen wanted to say none of your business, but she held her tongue for once. “With a friend.”
    “Who’s your friend? I know several people in Tallahassee. May know him.”
    Ellen studied the stranger. His red polo shirt looked soiled, and he wore black gloves. A bad sign. “Not a him, a her.”
    “Oh, sorry, but maybe I know her? I have several friends in Tallahassee.” He shrugged and winked. “I might know your friend.”
    Ellen didn’t like his wink and she was growing wary of his questions. They felt wrong, even though this guy was obviously no bum and nice enough to give her a ride. “I suppose it’s possible you know her. She’s Geneva VanSant, a well-known journalist. Her articles have appeared in newspapers all over the country.”
    The stranger’s jaw dropped as if he’d heard something shocking.
    Ellen thought he may have seen Geneva’s by-line or met her at some celebrity bash. “Do you know her?”
    The stranger pulled his Hummer onto Interstate 10. “The name sounds familiar and I’m thinking I’ve seen her somewhere. I’m not sure. Maybe it will come to me.”
    He smiled and pointed to the seatbelt, “Be safe, buckle up.”
    Ellen smoothed her Clairol-blond pixie, thinking no way she’d trap herself in this tank with a strange man. “I don’t think so. I hate seatbelts.”
    “You ride with me, you’ll wear yours.”
    Ellen’s neck hairs bristled. “Maybe you’d better take me back to MacDonald’s or drop me off here.” She inched toward the door and held onto the pepper spray in her bag.
    “In this rain?” He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “You’re feisty I’ll give you that. Why else would a fine woman like you catch a ride with God knows who?”
    Ellen’s heart hammered, warning her. She’d made a bad choice. She’d accepted a ride with a strange man, who drove like a maniac,