The Cypress Trap: A Suspense Thriller Read Free

rearview mirror. “What’re you talking ’bout?”
    “The
creepy black van that’s directly behind us again,” Rayanne said to him, then
twisted back into her seat. “It was tailgating us a couple of times back on the
interstate. If it gets any closer it’s going to rear-end the boat.”
    “Probably
just gettin’ off the interstate like we did.”
    Rayanne
glared at him for dismissing her like he always did. She turned her head to
stare out the passenger window. It had been raining off and on all day and a
light fog hovered over the blacktop and threaded through the pines that grew
thick on both sides of the road. The Chevy raced along, with the boat bouncing
and rocking behind it.
    Eventually,
the van tailing them slowed and turned right onto a narrow side road. Rayanne
noticed this in the side mirror.
    Owen
must’ve noticed it too, as he said, “They turned. Are you happy now?”
    She
didn’t answer, instead keeping her gaze locked firmly on the passing trees.
    “I’m
so glad to be out of the city,” she said after awhile. “Do you think we’ll see
some deer?”
    “Probably.”
    Owen
was grumbling at the traffic again. A station wagon in front of them drove some
ten miles below the speed limit, and he couldn’t pass it. She watched the veins
bulge in his neck and thought about massaging his shoulder. She reached for
him. He recoiled. She pulled away. Looking out the window, she sighed.
    “Is
this where you go on your hunting trips?” Weariness tinged her voice. When he
didn’t answer, she turned her gaze to him and tried to think of something else
to say. “I just love the ski boat.”
    Quickly,
under his breath, he said, “It’s a bass boat.”
    Then
nothing else. Rayanne stared out the window again.
    Finally
the oncoming traffic cleared and Owen maneuvered into the left lane. Rayanne
listened to the engine accelerate as they passed the station wagon.
    “Well,
I’m excited.” She felt the weight of her body sink into the seat as Owen
returned to the right lane and let the truck ease back to sixty. She wanted to
tell him to slow down, but thought better of it. Instead she smiled at him.
“I’ve been looking forward to us getting away for the weekend.”
    “Uh-huh,”
he muttered.
    They
passed a sign welcoming them to Willow, population 670, and the blacktop road
turned into Main Street. It was lined with dusty brick buildings, a post
office, and a corner diner. Beyond the town a thin road, bending like an
arthritic finger, poked into the thick woods and disappeared into the fog.
    Owen
pulled the Chevy into a Texaco station. Between the full-sized truck and the
boat and trailer, he took up two pumps, but didn’t seem the least bit
concerned. He hopped out of the truck. As he removed the gas cap and inserted
the nozzle, Rayanne walked across the street to the corner diner.
    The
door chimed when she entered. She smiled at a waitress behind the counter who
was smacking on gum and cleaning glass cups with a white hand towel. Her lips
were a deep orangey-red that competed sharply with the rouge on her cheeks. Her
hair, a slightly different shade of red, was confined for the most part within
a hairnet on the top of her head. The woman stared wide-eyed and unblinking,
without saying a word.
    Rayanne
hesitated at the door. For a split second she felt self-conscious about the way
she was dressed. She hadn’t planned for anyone to see her wearing Owen’s old
“Fish Naked” T-shirt and inappropriately short cutoffs. She looked like she
should be serving beer in an episode of The Dukes of Hazzard . Just as
quickly, though, she pushed the thought aside. She’d never see these people
again, so what did it matter?
    Smiling
at the waitress, she strode to the counter and ordered a large Mountain Dew for
Owen and an iced tea with no ice for herself. The waitress nodded and picked up
two glasses she had just wiped clean.
    “That
order’s to go,” Rayanne added as she gazed out the large front windows.