10

By the time Harper got dressed and had packed up her belongings, Mark was already outside. She opened the door and watched him as he walked around her Jeep, stooping to peer at the tires before opening the hood and poking around in the engine.

"All clear?" She asked, smiling at the intent look on his face.

"Looks like it." He slammed the hood shut. "I don't see anything wrong. You should be good to go."

"Fabulous."

"I hope you aren't going to stay on the back roads." He said, stepping closer.

Harper shook her head. "I think the interstate will be good enough for me from now on. It's only about six miles away."

"Good. That's probably the safest thing you can do." He followed her inside the room and shut the door behind him. "I don't have to say it but I will. Don't stop for anybody. And try to stay in populated places."

"I know. I get it." Harper looked around, double checking that she had everything. "So where are you going?"

Mark shrugged. "I don't know. I'll figure it out as I go. Maybe back to where I got pushed off the road. It's a place to start." He was studying her closely. Harper looked up and met his eyes. "I gotta admit I don't like the idea of you drivin' off alone."

She waved a hand at that. "I don't need a babysitter. You have things to do. I have places to go."

"Yeah but if that thing decides to follow you…"

"I'll shoot it in the face for its effort. Don't worry about me." She smiled. "Why not just let it go?"

Mark's eyebrow went up. "Let it go?"

"Yeah. You know. Let the cops in their own slow way deal with it or the backlash from it. Go live an actual life again."

"I can't. I already have too much blood on my hands." He actually looked down at his hands as if to prove his point. "Do you know how many it's killed since I stopped it the first time? Because if I let it go then I have to live with that plus all the others that'll be victims from this point on. I have enough nightmares without adding that to it."

"Ok. Sorry for suggesting it." Harper seemed to be sort of hurt by his refusal of her idea. Mark had no idea why. He had thought if roles were reversed that she would feel the same way. Of course he didn't really know her so it was hard to say what she was really thinking. She looked at him for a long moment before grabbing her bags. "Going to throw this in and warm my Jeep up. I'll be back." She was out the door before he could say anything else.

Mark stared after her, confused. He finally shook his head and went into his own room to pick up his bags. He'd transferred everything into a small overnight bag he'd picked up that morning, so it wasn't much to lug around. By the time he got back to Harper's room she was there again, tugging her coat on. She had snow in her hair, and her cheeks were red from the few brief moments outside, and Mark thought that in a perfect world he'd say screw it and just take her to bed again. And probably stay there for about a week. But it sure as hell wouldn't be at some cruddy little motel…the more he thought about it the more he would have liked to take her home with him. His wife had passed away and he'd sold their big rambling farmhouse – the plan had been to fill the five bedrooms with kids at some point – in favor of a more modest single level log house. One bedroom. The best part – the place had absolutely no memories. It also had all the personality of a model home because to Mark it was just a place he crashed when he wasn't doing anything more pressing. He didn't live there really. He waited.

Apparently his romantic side was rusty as hell because once he thought of getting Harper to his house he was baffled as to what would come next. He had a fireplace. Of course he hadn't used it in over two years, so he wasn't sure it was usable at the moment. Did women even enjoy that kind of thing anymore? It wasn't something he had bothered to think about in years. On the rare occasion when he'd gotten an urge, he had taken care of it at a motel like this one or on extremely rare occasions the woman's place if it was more convenient and she didn't seem like the clingy type.

He shook himself out of his thoughts. There was no sense in wondering about it now. They were parting ways. He'd never see her again, and she was probably better off for it. Hasn't he caused her enough trouble?

"Well. I'm all set I guess." Harper finally said, mindless of his scrutiny and errant thoughts. "Back to my own quest for inner peace. Plus I remembered to plug my MP3 player in so I'll even have music to listen to. The universe has realigned itself." She smiled up at him. "You want me to go first?"

"That would probably be best. But I'm debating following you to see if you're followed."

"But then how would you know it's following me and not you?" Harper asked. Mark frowned in confusion.

"Good question. Ok. Maybe I should go first. I'm heading back in the other direction. Maybe it'll be curious to see what I'm up to. There's no way of knowing unless it shows up."

"I'll offer it again. Do you want my phone?"

"Are you kidding?" Mark snorted. She'd already tried to give him her new phone once. And her gun. He had declined both. He had no use for either. She on the other hand might need to call for help in a hurry. The thought made his stomach churn. "Who would I call? Bill Murray?"

"I'm pretty sure he said he's finished being a Ghostbuster." Harper said, serious. "I just don't like this, that's all."

"It'll be all right. As long as you stay on the interstate and don't go wandering off alone…"

"I'm not so worried about myself." She said, eying him. Then she shook her head. "Just take care of yourself. And watch yourself out there."

"I will." He was oddly touched by her worry. It had been a long time since anyone had bothered to care even that much. "Harper…"

She looked away from him and zipped her coat, giving herself something to do. "Thank you. You know. For this morning." It was strangely formal, and the first time she had sounded remotely awkward, and it made a weak smile surface on Mark's face. It was also the only time either of them had come close to mentioning what had happened between them.

"Uh…well. I can't take all the credit for that." He finally said.

"Take care of yourself." She repeated it and finally looked up at him. Mark could only nod at her serious tone of voice. Harper stepped forward, caught the shirt he was wearing in her hands and pulled him down. She kissed him, surprising him, but Mark wasn't going to complain as he kissed her back thoroughly. Hell who knew when he'd have the notion again? He should enjoy it while he could.

When she finally pulled back they were both breathless. She smiled and raised her hand in a wave instead of saying anything else. Mark nodded and watched as she walked outside and climbed into her idling Jeep. He sighed heavily as she pulled away. He felt oddly empty as he watched her turn onto the main road and head in the direction of the interstate.

He waited and watched traffic. Although it was snowing, and accumulating, people were still driving. Traffic was actually sort of heavy at the moment with people heading home from work. He did not see the familiar car but that could mean nothing. The thing could have easily traded it for something else by now.

But why would it? The car was obviously still in working order. Plus there was the added satisfaction of scaring the hell out of Harper if she saw it. If it chose to go after her – which Mark was almost positive was going to happen, no matter what he had said about the interstate being safe, about her not being one of its usual victims – then the car would be an asset for it. It liked the fear almost as much as it liked the kill, at least in Mark's opinion.

Plus its appearance at the store that morning, and for Harper's benefit, just solidified in Mark's mind the idea that the thing was going for her. Maybe because she interfered. Maybe because he felt she was unfinished business. Or maybe because she had dared to stand her ground and fire back. Who knew? The thing didn't spend time thinking like normal people.

Mark gave Harper thirty minutes then forty-five. And that was about the end of his comfort zone of time. Anything more than that and he'd risk losing her. He left the motel room and shut the door behind him, trying like hell to find his detached way of thinking again. It was hard because his mind wanted to think about Harper. Ok. His mind wanted to fantasize about Harper. For the first time in a long time he found himself wishing that he'd had more time with someone other than just long enough to get a release and give a token 'I'll call you'.

He let the truck warm up for a couple of minutes, once again listening to the engine, getting used to the sound of the new vehicle. Satisfied he finally backed out of the space and went to the lot exit. He paused for a moment, looking both ways before turning in the same direction that Harper had taken. He wasn't going to be leisurely about it but he wasn't going to get too close too fast. He didn't want her – and hopefully it – to know he was closing in. He only hoped that his instincts were right this time. They had failed him the night before.

Although he had gotten to be with Harper. If that was a fail maybe he should fail more often. Smiling at that utter absurdity of that thought, Mark gave the truck some gas and got ahead of slower moving traffic. Now that he was moving that inner voice of his that had led him was telling him not to get too far behind.

If she followed her own newly made plans of travel, Harper would be going west on the interstate for about three hours until she would stop at the next largest city to refuel and get dinner. Or lunch. Sleeping in the day sort of threw off Mark's sense of time. After that she planned to drive another four hours to the next major city where she would take a longer break That was as much as Mark knew because that was as much as Harper had planned for. If she drove straight through she could get to her destination in about fourteen more hours. But she was in no real hurry even if the funeral was scheduled for the day after tomorrow. She didn't have to see the guy's body to enjoy his death. Mark hadn't questioned exactly why she was so happy to see some old guy kick the bucket. It made sense to her so that's what mattered.

The rest had done him a world of good, maybe nearly as much as the brief interlude he had shared with Harper. Mark kept an eye on the traffic around him as he guided the truck onto the interstate. He had no real reason to rush. Maybe the rest had done his instincts a world of good. He picked up speed, quickly outpacing the slower traffic around him. He didn't care. Like the murders that occurred in the rural areas, the cops always seemed to turn a blind eye to his vehicle. It was a theory Mark had tested on many occasions, sometimes pushing the truck or car he was using into the 90 or 100 mile per hour range. He had passed state cops doing better than 40 over the speed limit without a hint of being pursued. It was like they did not see him.

That had happened many times since he'd started this whole thing. People had seemed to look right through him, to the point that he sometimes wondered why he bothered being around at all. Until Harper, he could not remember the last time someone had actually paid attention to him, had seen him. It never bothered him before. Now Mark felt uncomfortable with the thought.

Resolutely he increased his speed as he left town limits and reached open highway. The plan was to trail Harper for a while and watch her back, at least until his alarm bells quieted where she was concerned. He was determined that she had seen the worst that she would have to endure. The thing wasn't going to get another chance at her if Mark had anything to say about it.

He was reaching for the radio, meaning to tune in to a weather report. The snow was still coming down, and he was probably driving way too fast for the conditions, but he had to make time while the sun was out. After dark visibility would be horrible and he'd be forced to slow down. His finger rested on the power button but he paused, listening. Something was rattling. He made a face, expecting a wave of annoyance. It was a used truck of course it would have issues. Before he could get annoyed he realized it was coming from under the seat. He raised an eyebrow. There hadn't been anything under the seat to rattle. He had checked. He debated pulling over, decided the road was clear enough ahead, and leaned over to carefully feel along the floor under the passenger seat. His fingers brushed cool metal. Mark pulled it out and raised an eyebrow. It was a gun case.

"Harper…" He muttered her name in exasperation and unhooked the latches on the sides. Sure enough the .45 she had used the night before was inside, along with a spare ammo clip. It was full. There was a slip of paper tucked inside too. He brought the truck to a short stop, ignoring the bite of tires on asphalt, and pulled over onto the shoulder. He grabbed the paper and unfolded it, smiling a little at the short message.

'I know you said no, but now you're stuck with it. No worries. I have another one.' Under that was a phone number. Mark carefully re-folded the paper and tucked it back into the metal box. He eyed the gun for a moment and shook his head. She was insisting he keep the gun maybe to make herself feel better. He understood that. Maybe the number was so he could return it eventually. Or maybe it was her roundabout way of telling him to call her. Either way – it made him smile again.

And it struck him. The things she had said at the motel about getting on with his life, about letting this stuff go. And how she'd been momentarily hurt by his insistence of continuing. He replayed the conversation in his mind, turning it carefully, realizing belatedly that maybe she had been hinting at moving on…with her. She hadn't wanted to come right out and say it because hell, even Mark could admit the idea would have freaked him out if presented in a blunt manner. In Harper's usual manner. She had toned it down and pulled back just to see his reaction, and he had disappointed her. But here was her gun and her number. Obviously there was still some hope.

He picked up the gun, testing its weight. He checked the clip that was already set – it was also full. Mark made sure the safety was on before sliding the gun into the gap between the driver's seat and the passenger's seat. It wouldn't slide around and he'd be able to get to it faster than if he put it back under the seat. He took the second clip and put it into the center console, pretty sure if one clip wasn't enough the second wouldn't do much good. He hoped she hadn't been joking about having a second gun. She might end up needing it. Hating how that thought made him feel, Mark checked for traffic and pulled back onto the interstate, quickly gaining speed.