The moon was full, the sky was bare, and the mercury had dropped into the teens under zero. Worse still, the truck was totaled, upside-down in a ditch, and the sign up on the road said she was about twenty miles from anywhere.
Jane Doe called out into the night but there was no one around to listen. Not any more. Two men lay in the snow. One was dead, the other was bleeding out. He’d choke on his own blood soon enough. She couldn’t remember how she got the gun, the knife, who was driving or who she was. She couldn’t remember anything.