Page 91

“Sorry about the engine, Mr. Poe,” she said. “It might be cooked.”

“Never mind that,” Poe replied. He held up his phone. It was a text from Helene Grey: WATER BROKE. IT’S TIME.

CHAPTER 95

POE RAN OUTSIDE to search for the lodge’s battered pickup—the vehicle they’d driven to the arena hours earlier. Cooked or not, the Hummer was no longer street legal. Virginia was a few steps behind him, having waved off the celebratory crowd inside. She’d shucked off her driving suit and thrown on her parka over her sweater and jeans. The snow was up to their calves.

“Where is it?” Poe shouted, blinded by the pelting snow. It was dark outside, except for a few dim pole lights, and he couldn’t remember where they’d parked. Over the past few hours, the snow had blown in hard off the lake. The vehicles in the lot were just mounds of white. Poe’s mind was racing with fear and guilt. Helene had been resting comfortably when he left. She’d given him her blessing to support Virginia at the race. “Go,” she’d said. “I’ll be fine.” But nobody had counted on this. The storm had swept in harder and faster than anyone had predicted.

Virginia waved her arm. “This way!” She pointed to the last row in the lot. She ran over and started wiping snow off the pickup’s hood with her arm. Poe yanked the door open and turned the key in the ignition. The truck fired up. He switched on the headlights.

When he turned on the wipers, they were too weighed down to move. “Do we have a snow scraper?”

“It’s in the bed!” Virginia shouted. Meaning the back of the truck. Buried in snow.

She spotted a shovel leaning against the side of a Jeep. She grabbed it and started pushing snow off the truck, clearing the windshield, hood, and headlights.

“That’s good enough!” shouted Poe. “Get in!”

Virginia tossed the shovel aside and stomped through a drift to reach the passenger door, then pulled it open and slid in. Poe had the defroster blasting, but so far it was only blowing cold air. Virginia buckled her lap belt and pounded the dashboard. “Go! Go!”

Poe put the truck in Low and pressed the accelerator. He heard a high-pitched whine from underneath. “Shit!” The pickup had four-wheel drive, but at least two of the wheels were spinning in the packed snow. The truck moved forward about a foot, then dropped back.

“Rock it!” Virginia shouted.

Poe nodded. He made a series of rapid shifts, from Low to Reverse and back again, goosing the pedal in between, trying to get some momentum in either direction. No good. Still stuck. He looked up and saw a bunch of silhouettes pass in front of his headlights—bundled-up figures leaning forward against the blowing snow.

Virginia opened her door and leaned out to stop them. “Hey! Wait!”

As they turned toward the truck, the snow cleared for a second. Poe saw their faces. Dammit. They were the other monster-truck drivers—the ones Virginia had just soundly beaten.

Virginia jumped out. She grabbed the guy in the lead by the arm and pointed at Poe. “See that guy? He’s my boss, and his partner is having twins. Right now! We need your help!”

“Holy crap!” one of the other drivers shouted into the wind. Virginia herded them all toward the bed of the pickup, then climbed back into the passenger seat. She nodded at Poe. “Get ready. Let’s hope they can push better than they can drive.”

Poe felt the truck start to rock back and forth in a forceful rhythm. At the peak of the next shove, he pressed the gas pedal. No go. The truck rocked back. He could hear grunts and curses from behind.

Another strong shove. This time the truck shifted a few feet forward, then rocked back again. Virginia leaned out the window and shouted back. “Harder! Or do you need me to come back there and show you?”

That did it. The next shove was momentous. Poe hit the gas. The truck blasted over the snow and swerved across the driveway, plowing a path as it went. Virginia raised her hand out the window with a V for victory. Poe tapped the horn. In less than a minute, they were on the main road, grinding toward home.

Snow blew across the dark pavement in clouds and swirls. Poe hugged the center line, or what he could see of it. With one hand on the wheel, he pulled out his cell phone and called Holmes.

“Auguste! Where are you?”

“Heading back! How’s Helene?”

“She’s in advanced labor! Dilated six centimeters, Margaret says!”

“Call a medevac!”

“Forget it. Nothing can fly in this storm.”

Poe heard a rattle of static, then Marple came on the line, calm but determined. “We’re on our own here, Auguste. Your babies are coming. Hurry!”

CHAPTER 96

THE PICKUP’S DEFROSTER was for shit. As Poe drove on through the dark, Virginia kept wiping her hands across the inside of the fogged-up windshield to clear his view. She was hoping they’d see a patrol car or a snowplow, anybody she could flag down to ask for help. But the roads were deserted. Everybody was lying low, waiting out the storm.