Chapter One
★•**•★
Tara Barlow couldn’t believe the series of events that transpired over the last few days. How could one woman have such bad luck? If she tried to tell anyone else about what had happened, they’d think she was describing a movie or a television show. These ridiculous things didn’t occur in real life except… well, they had. And she was sick of being the victim.
Trudging through the thick snow, hard white flakes slicing into her face, her mind traveled back to the beginning. She’d been working as a bank teller in one of the larger branches of Capital One in Los Angeles until the pandemic had stolen her hours, and she was forced to cut her time by almost half.
Of course, during the first month, she realized she couldn’t keep paying her rent without using up her savings. When she’d visited the folks, her mom and goofy stepdad figured out what had happened to make her sad. Once she admitted her plight, they insisted she move home to mitigate her expenses.
Stupidly, she’d agreed. Knowing that Christmas was fast approaching and hating to be alone during this time of year, forgetting what had driven her out of the house in the first place, she’d hoped things would turn out okay.
Living alone with her mother would have worked. They got along well enough if she ignored her mom’s ridiculous habits. Tara could have handled her mother’s drinking herself into a blob every night, then dragging herself to the hotel where she worked as a cleaning lady the next day. The cussing and meanness in the mornings would be forgotten that evening before her mom reached for that first drink after her shift.
There would usually be a period between the first sip and too darn many where they could be together in civility, talk about their day, and decide on what to make for dinner.
Then Tom showed up and all that changed. He’d barely survived on a monthly income from the government for his medical disability, so he brought in very little to the upkeep of the house.
As far as she was concerned, his problems were all in his head. Yet he’d managed to convince his doctor and then a government clerk that his back problems were legitimate, and he deserved their financial help.
Once he moved in, living there was indescribable. She couldn’t do it any longer. Taking the small amount of savings from her bank and taking a leave of absence, rather than quitting, Tara packed lightly. One suitcase, a small backpack, and her purse; she bought a bus ticket to the town where she’d vacationed as a child with her real father and then sober mother.
Carlton Grove, near Seattle, was a small town where the people cared about each other. Reinforced so deeply in her memory, she often dreamed of returning and making it her home. What better time? If forced to spend the Christmas holiday alone, why not in the town that had lingered in her mind for so many years?
And face it, this was the place she’d like to be quarantined. She’d get a motel room either near or on the beach until she found a small apartment and happily spend those first fourteen days over the holidays in isolation. She could imagine the wonderful walks along the water, seeing the fancy displays of lights, and the Christmas cheer and couldn’t wait.
Gulping down her apprehension, she said her goodbyes to the two drunks who crabbily insisted on driving her to the depot and then charging her. She caught her bus and the nightmare began.
Chapter Two
★•**•★
ice, she’d gotten off the bus at one of the stops. There she met up with one of the new passengers – a needy, vocal male who thought he was God’s gift to females. The creep couldn’t understand why she didn’t want him in the seat next to her so they could get close during the rest of the trip.
“I’m seeing someone, and I’m really – I’m happier on my own. But thanks for the invite.” Really, what’s so rude about those words? He’d taken them as an insult saying, “Fine. Screw you. I was trying to be nice.”
Rather than answering, she’d nodded and spread her things over both seats to let him know she hadn’t changed her mind about sharing and ignored him across from her after that. But it had spoiled her two-day trip. Now she had to stick to herself and hope the bus never got so busy she’d have to share. Thankfully, with the pandemic becoming real, people weren’t traveling much.
As the second evening slowly appeared, knowing she’d be getting off very soon, she began gathering her things together and looking everywhere for her small purse.
Last she’d seen of it was when she’d used it as a pillow for her head in the latter part of the afternoon. She’d kept the strap around her arm, but it had a wonky clasp, and it often unhitched itself when she least expected. It most likely slid onto the floor while she’d slept. Crawling around, she used the flash on her phone to light up the surrounding dark area.
When she started moving everything around, it still didn’t turn up. Now panic began to set in. Her voice filled with worry, she talked to the person sitting in front of her, praying the purse had slid forward and got mixed in with his gear.
No such luck.
Next, she checked with the latest passenger, an older woman behind her who had kept her distance and wore a mask and gloves. That heavy-set, frizzy-haired senior shook her head. But seeing the panic Tara couldn’t hide, she moved her belongings on the seat and looked on the floor to be sure it hadn’t slid there.
The search revealed no sign of the wallet-like purse.
Terrified of losing all her savings and her Visa and debit cards, Tara swallowed her sudden tears and looked over to see the idiot she’d repulsed. He appeared to be sleeping.
Ignoring the signals, she leaned over and tried to keep the accusatory note out of her shaking voice. She woke him up, saying, “Excuse me. Did you happen to see my small purse? It’s grey, looks similar to an oversized wallet, and has a bottle of disinfectant hanging from the handle on the side?”
The creep barely moved. But he did open his eyes and growled out a reply, “Who me? No, I’ve been sleeping. I never saw your purse. Could be the bloke behind you who got off on the last stop. Maybe he took it with him?”
More tears gathered. She hated dealing with his rotten attitude. The stinky breath satiated with a distinct alcohol odor made her stomach lurch. But she had to get that purse back. “Why would a stranger take my things?”
He straightened to a slouch yet maintained his miserable attitude. “How should I know? You accused me, and I’ve been sleeping most of the day. It was just a suggestion.”
Frustrated, teary-eyed, and scared, she approached the bus driver. His reply held out little hope. “Sorry, missy. It’s your responsibility to take care of your own gear. The company takes no blame. I can ask everyone to search at the next stop in Carlton. That’s where you get off, right?”
“Yes. Please. I really must find my purse. It has everything I need, all my money and cards. Please help me.”
“Right. Take your seat, and we’ll see what we can do.”
The driver did exactly as he’d promised, but after everyone – especially those close to her seat – did a small search, no one stepped forward with the item. He wrote down her phone number and dropped her, plus the other few getting off at that stop, with the directive of her taking more care with her belongings in the future. Through her tears, she watched the bus weaving away through the snow, the lights disappearing into the darkness.