My clothes were wet, my face was throbbing, and I started to shiver.But I had no intention of staying there. Nor would I howl or claw at the door. I fumbled around with my stiff, freezing fingers until I found the keys to the Valiant in my pocket. I climbed into the car, started it up, and put it into reverse. I backed into a snowdrift, but then I put the car in drive and slammed the accelerator to the floor. The tires churned and spun in the snow, but finally found their traction and I sped away from the Wagon Wheel. If I’d known the way to Denver—or to Minneapolis or Winnipeg—I might have driven in that direction. As it was, I headed back toward Willow Falls.Sure that I would soon see the pursuing headlights of the doctor’s Chrysler in the rearview mirror, or even the flashing red lights of a county sheriff or highway patrolman, I drove as fast as I dared. Curves came up before I could slow for them, and I often veered over into the oncoming lane. I hit icy stretches of road before I could prepare for them.
