Candy slammed on the brakes, causing the tires to lose their grip on the road and sending the Jeep into a skid. Had the original owner of the vehicle added the optional antilock braking system, she probably wouldn’t have had much of a problem. As it was, the vehicle’s tail end swung around to the right, she cranked the wheel to the left, and the back end of Jeep slid deep into a four-foot-high bank of snow piled up by the side of the road.
In a rush of light and sound, the vehicle came to a stop with a solid whulmpf as the back right tire wedged deeply in the tightly packed snow.
Candy had her seat belt on, so she was fine. Calmly she put the shifter into park, switched off the engine, and sat for several moments with her hands on the steering wheel and her foot still on the brake. She was more upset at herself than shaken. She’d skidded off the road before. Just about everyone who drove in New England during the winter had at one time or another. It went with the territory. One day on the way home from work you just hit a patch of black ice and the road went out from underneath you. That’s the way it happened. But this time, it had been her own fault, because she’d known she was traveling over a dangerous icy patch.
Still…
She turned her head as she lifted it, and looked out the right-hand side of the windshield.
The white moose stood stoically, unmoving, its head raised. It was staring off into the distance, its thickly furred ears perked, as if it had heard a sound far off.
Candy shook her head, let out a breath, unbuckled her seat belt, and climbed out of the cab.
The moose turned its head toward her.
“What are you doing here?” Candy asked, not sure whether to be angry or thrilled.
It looked at her forlornly.
“Oh boy.” She suddenly remembered what Maggie and Ben had told her.
The last thing she needed right now was a lovesick moose standing between her and lunch. She tried her best not to look too attractive, which wasn’t that hard today.
“Um, listen,” she said gently. “I wish I didn’t have to be the one to point this out, but you’re blocking my path. I can’t get home. And I would sure like to get inside where it’s warm. So I don’t suppose you could move aside?”
The moose dropped its head, searching the snow-covered ground for something to munch on. Spotting an item of interest, it took a few steps toward her, snorting as it came closer, stopping no more than a dozen feet away. It sniffed at the ground but found nothing. Giving up, it raised its head again to its full, majestic height.
Even at that distance, it seemed to tower over her. She couldn’t help but take a step back as she looked up at it. “Wow, you really are a big fellow,” she said, marveling at the size of the creature this close. And, to be honest, she felt a little intimidated by it. She was out here all alone, facing down a moose in the open, with no one else around to help if the animal should suddenly turn wild.
She considered climbing back into the Jeep, but hesitated.
Rather than look aggressive, the moose seemed, well, interested. Maybe even curious. It turned its head so its left eye could get a better look at her, and blinked several times.
Candy didn’t know what to think.
It turned to look toward the woods, then back at her.
Candy followed its gaze, puzzled. An odd thought struck her.
It wants something, she realized. It keeps looking toward the woods. Does that mean…?
The next moment, Elizabeth’s words came to her: Follow the light.
Candy’s head tiled. The white moose? Was that what she meant?
She barked out a quick laugh, which caused the moose to look at her warily. “That’s crazy,” she said to herself.
Moose didn’t come out of the woods and beckon you to follow them. Those sorts of things just didn’t happen. After all, this wasn’t Lassie. The moose wasn’t here to save the day. This was the real world.
Of course, this was Cape Willington, where strange things were known to happen—like a playboy falling off a cliff, or someone committing murder for a lobster stew recipe.
Or an old hermit stumbling across a body in the woods…
Abruptly the moose snorted softly, swung its head around, and lumbered away toward the back field, moving gracefully.
It headed straight toward the spot where Solomon had emerged from the woods, two days earlier.
That struck Candy as oddly coincidental.
Or maybe it wasn’t a coincidence.
She watched the moose amble away, and could practically feel the pull it had on her.
On an impulse, she hurried back to the Jeep and grabbed her tote bag. She fished out a notepad and pen, scribbled a quick note, and along with the keys, left it sitting on the driver’s seat, in plain view, so Doc could see it if he looked in the window.
From the backseat, she took an extra scarf, her spare knit cap, and an extra pair of fleece gloves, all of which she shoved into her coat pockets. Just in case.
She looked up. The sky was still clear, though starting to become overcast in the west. Another cold front would move through later in the day, bringing flurries again, but she knew she had at least a few hours before the inclement weather arrived.
She’d be fine as long as it didn’t snow, since anyone who came behind her would be able to follow her footprints, and she’d be able to follow her own tracks back out. Snow, of course, would cover them, making it more difficult for someone to come after her, or for her to retrace her steps.
Another thought came to her then. She looked down at her torso. She was wearing the same jacket she’d had on yesterday, when she’d gone into the woods with Ben.
She unzipped it about halfway and stuck her hand inside, feeling at an interior coat pocket. The compass Ben had given her was safely tucked away, zipped into its own compartment.
That made her feel more secure. No matter what happens, she thought, I should be able to find my way out if I get turned around.
As she zipped up again, she turned and looked out across the snowy field, toward the woods. The moose was already heading up the distant ridge toward the upper tree line, moving at a steady clip.
Candy snugged her jacket tighter around her and started after it at a brisk pace.