7
It was strange how uneasy the thought of leaving her made him feel.
Mark had been contemplating that as he looked through clothes at the store, trying to stay focused. Instead he spent most of the time keeping one eye on Harper. He had no idea why. She struck him as being perfectly capable of keeping an eye out for herself.
But he figured they had made it into town. Now would be the time to have her drop him off at one of the used car lots that did business around here. He wasn't going to buy new and have it run off the road again. He could see her to whatever place she was staying and then find himself some rest before hitting the road and resuming his search.
In theory it sounded like a pretty solid plan. But it left him feeling oddly hollow. As if a part of him knew that even though it would have worked out fine any other time, this time was somehow different. The events of the night had left him doubting his instincts, which was something else that was new. Maybe he really did need to find a doctor and get himself a proper examination. It was entirely possible he cracked his head and just didn't remember doing it.
He knew as soon as he saw her face that something had happened. It had rattled her, even more than getting shot at during the night. Maybe it was because she was tired but it took Harper more of an effort to put her game face back on. And heaven help him he was starting to admire her ability to keep moving forward even when there was crazy happening all around her.
She drove in silence through town, keeping an eye on the road behind them, and to both sides. It was subtle. She had gotten control of her initial shock. But it led to a slight change of plans. Instead of checking in to a motel directly off the highway on the outskirts of town, Harper instead went to the center of the small town and pulled into the parking lot of a motel that was located directly across from a small sheriff's station.
"False sense of security maybe." Harper said it as if Mark had asked. In truth, he hadn't needed to. He understood the change in plans, and approved. The presence of the police didn't mean much in the grand scheme of things but if something happened it was likely that someone would see something.
She parked near the motel's office and got out to see about getting a couple of rooms. Mark kept an eye on the road but saw nothing unusual. Actually he had wanted to protest the need for a room for himself – he should move on and soon – but she had been pretty adamant about him getting some rest. He wasn't sure if she were worried for his well-being or not but it felt sort of strange to be fussed over that way. It wasn't something he was used to.
Harper reappeared a few minutes later and got behind the wheel. "Here you go." She held out a key. Mark took it and glanced at her as she drove the Jeep around to the side of the building where the parking lot was. She found her own room and parked right in front of it. "You're next door." She pointed out. Mark nodded and climbed out, reaching into the back to grab the things he'd bought earlier.
The room was all right. Small, but he'd stayed in worse. At least he wasn't trying to take a nap in his vehicle. That was always a plus. There was a door next to the entrance, and out of curiosity he pulled it open. Whether she had done it purposely or if it was just the luck of the draw and what was available, Harper had gotten them adjoining rooms. He tapped on the door and in a few moments she opened her side, looking amused and worn out at the same time. It was the first time he had seen her with her defenses down. He wasn't the only one who could use some sleep apparently.
"I thought this was maybe a closet." She said, peering into his room curiously.
"A closet might be bigger. You all right?"
"Yup. Going to grab a shower and then pass out for at least a few hours. If I can." She glanced at the door to her room. "Unless I have to worry about some idiot breaking in and killing me in my sleep."
"That could happen anywhere. And breaking in isn't really its style."
"It's sort of playing against its style isn't it?" She said, but instead of the sarcastic edge he expected, she sounded flat. "I'm more worried it's going to mess with my Jeep while I'm sleeping, to be honest. Isn't that how it gets people?"
"Yeah." Mark rubbed his temples. "Best we can do is check it out before you hit the road again. It uses the same few tricks to cause a breakdown."
"Ok."
"I have to go out for a bit."
Harper's eyebrow went up at that. "Oh?"
"Yeah. Got to replace my truck. I can do that now and save myself the trouble later." Plus he wanted to have a secondary vehicle, just in case.
"All right. You want me to give you a lift or…"
"Nah. There's a dealership right up the road. I shouldn't be gone too long." He put his hand against the door that he'd opened between their rooms. "Keep this open until I get back though." He did not have to explain why. She got it. The adjoining rooms were a good idea unless the thing figured out it could get to her in a different way. "You should be safe here." He pointed out when she didn't immediately move to take her shower or get ready to sleep.
"Should be." She echoed it and shook her head before turning away and disappearing through a doorway in the back corner. A few moments later the sound of water flowing reached his ear. Mark was confused again. Once more he wasn't sure if Harper was worried for herself or for his welfare. On the surface, she had been worried about herself but he got the distinct feeling that was more for his benefit than hers. He didn't know why he would think that way but it felt true.
Mark sighed and headed out, making sure to lock the door behind him. He looked around, satisfied that the Mustang and driver were nowhere in sight before he headed out of the lot. A bit over an hour later he drove back to the motel leaving a pretty well stunned salesperson behind. Mark had spent all of three minutes perusing what was available, test drove a truck, poked through the engine, and deemed it good enough. He had the money wired to the dealership's finance department which took the bulk of his time out. The only real perk about living the way he had been – he didn't need anything fancy. The truck would get him around. And he could always trade it for something else later.
He was starting to feel like a paranoid idiot by the time he got back to the motel. Mark found himself looking constantly over his shoulder, down side roads, in his mirrors - to the point of hardly paying attention to what was directly in front of him. Traffic was light though. He doubted this town saw much in the way of gridlock.
Now that he'd been out and away from Harper he was starting to rethink his urge to stay near her. He was starting to feel the exact opposite. He should grab his stuff and hit the road, and put some distance between them. It was his fault that she was in danger. He could hope that by putting miles between them would also turn the thing's attention away from her. He wished there as a way to be sure though.
And Mark couldn't babysit Harper for the rest of her life. She was heading off on her own business, and that was fine by him. He didn't know what business it was but she seemed resigned to do it. So it was best that she get on her way. And he'd point out that she needed to head to more populated travel areas. They weren't so far off a couple of major highways that it would be risky.
Mark parked his trucked next to Harper's Jeep and spent a few minutes listening to the engine tick as it cooled down. The rain, which had declined since the night before, was now mixed with snow. He could see fat wet flakes strike the windshield and melting on the warmed glass. Across the street, a couple of deputies were hanging out near the entrance to the sheriff's station, smoking, huddled against the cold air. That was fine. More eyes meant he could let down his guard just a little bit and get some sleep.
He let himself into his room and glanced through the open door to Harper's room. She'd apparently had her shower – she was sitting on the end of her bed with her dark hair laying wet on her shoulders and a towel wrapped around her. She was also talking on a cell phone that was plugged into a wall outlet, presumably charging. Mark averted his eyes but not before he took in an eyeful of bare skin.
He did however listen with half an ear as he dug into his bags. He pulled out what he'd need for a shower and caught himself smiling at Harper's tone of voice. It wasn't the same person she'd been speaking to the night before – there was no annoyed sarcasm this time. She was explaining why she was calling from a new number although Mark noted that she left out quite a few of the more life-threatening details like being shot at.
Mark shook his head and ducked into the tiny bathroom. The shower was almost big enough for him to turn around in, but the water was hot and that was all that mattered. He relaxed in the steam for a few minutes, trying to get himself geared down for a few hours of sleep. Then he would try to figure out how the hell the thing had managed to turn things around on him. Mark finally washed off and had to contort himself a bit to get the soap out of his hair – the shower wasn't made for somebody his height. He made do though because he'd had to deal with worse. He wiped fog from the mirror and spent a few minutes shaving and brushing his teeth. It always struck him how doing such randomly mundane things should be so calming. He combed the tangles out of his wet hair then dried off and pulled on a pair of shorts and a plain t-shirt, in deference to having company nearby. Normally he wouldn't have bothered.
At least he was presentable. He left his towel hanging and took his worn clothing back into the main room. He'd bought a small overnight bag, so he spent a few minutes packing it with all of the new things he'd bought. He also tossed in his toiletries because he figured he'd be up and ready to leave in less than four hours. That was his usual pattern anyway. He was restless by nature, and had never gotten used to sleeping during the day
It took him a few minutes to notice how quiet it had gotten. He stepped toward the open door to Harper's room and saw that she was no longer sitting on the bed. Nor was she laying in it. Her phone was sitting on the bedside table, her bathroom door was standing open, but the woman herself was not in sight. There were no places she could be hiding either.
Mark was trying to decide how panicked he would be if she had been snatched right out from under his nose when there was the sound of a key rattling in the door. It opened and Harper stepped inside, coat wrapped tightly around her, shivering. She'd given up her towel for a pair of pajama pants – which was sort of disappointing. While Mark didn't necessarily pursue women as a habit it didn't stop him from admiring a nice set of legs on occasion. Or other parts. He pushed that thought away.
"Thought you got kidnapped or something." He said, sounding a little gruffer than he had meant it to sound.
"Nope. Just had to go up to the office for a minute." She had a small square box in her hand. Mark frowned at it in confusion as she shrugged her coat off and tossed it onto the room's only other piece of furniture – a worn chair in the corner.
"Did you hurt yourself?" He asked, concerned, watching as she sat down and pried the lid open. Mark could see it was a first-aid kit.
"No. At least not that I recall." Harper pulled a couple of bandages out, a small tube of cream, then she looked up at Mark. "I guess I was sort of pumped up on adrenaline and didn't notice that I had a bullet hole in my shirt."
"You were shot?" He moved toward her.
"No. Grazed, I guess, would be the word for it." She sounded amused. Actually amused. He could only gape at her as she lifted the thin shirt she was wearing. Not too far – just enough to expose a few inches of skin on her side. And she had an angry looking red streak on her side. A graze was right – the bullet had been close enough to burn her and leave a shallow scratch about two inches long. It was a miracle she wasn't hurt worse. "I didn't notice it and it didn't start hurting until I was taking a shower and got soap in it."
Mark watched as she took a few of the gauze pads from the first aid kit and poured peroxide over them. He saw her grit her teeth before she applied it to the wound on her side. She hissed in a breath but that was her only reaction. He sat down on the bed next to her and moved her hands out of the way, carefully cleaning her wound. The scratch was jagged and seeped a little bit of blood, but it wasn't bad. He took the tube of ointment from her and applied it liberally to the wound and the burned skin around it, careful not to press too hard. Then he covered it all up with another piece of clean gauze.
He smoothed the last piece of tape over the edge, ensuring it would stay in place, and finally looked up. Harper was watching him, that amused expression still on her face but it was underlined by something more serious. He met her eyes, struck for a moment by the bright blue color. He also realized, a little belatedly, that his hand was still on her side and his fingers were slowly stroking the skin above the bandage and tape he'd just applied. No wonder she looked amused.
Mark cleared his throat and pulled back, ignoring the little flash of regret at letting go, resolutely looking away from her and toward the door to his room. "Well…uh. I'm gonna try to catch some sleep. Saw some cops outside while I was out so maybe that'll be all right."
"Yeah. I noticed them." Harper hadn't moved. She didn't make an effort to lower her shirt either. She was eying him as if he were a new species of weird.
"Ok. Good…night. I guess?" He sounded unsure and made it a question. Harper smiled.
"Yup. Good night."
Mark got up and went to his own room, aware every step of the way that Harper was still watching him. It made him uncomfortable – maybe because he had no idea what she was thinking. Normally he wouldn't give a damn. For some reason she was starting to get under his skin. It was for the best, that they'd be parting ways in a few hours. She was probably a complication he did not need in his life.
