The Note (Unsolved Mysteries Book 1) by Kim Knight (red seas under red skies .TXT) 📗

ran her hand over the visible damage. She shook her head at it.

“Great, punctured.”

Pulling herself up, she glanced the length of the quiet road in search of help. There was no one around. She gave up on anyone passing by that could help her. Instead, she dialled the number on the windscreen sticker for the car breakdown service.

“Hello, my name’s . . . sorry, excuse me. Hallo, mijn naam is Madeline,” she said to the call handler.

There was a silence on the line.

“Hello, hello,” she yelled.

Madeline tutted at the blank screen. Her battery had died. She groaned loudly and shoved her phone in her pocket.

The bitter wind whipped around her, and the rain assaulted the thin material of her coat. She began to shiver and cursed even more. She leaned on the side of the car, and tears welled in her eyes, then spilt over onto her cheeks.

A dog barked somewhere in the distance.

Her eyes darted toward the woodland area.

“Hey, hello, is anyone there?” Her voice echoed back, bouncing around the open space.

Overcome with fear, she hurried away and jumped into the driver’s seat. She locked the doors and prayed someone would pass by and help her. With the weather as bad as it was, she wasn’t optimistic about it.

Why would anyone be out in this? She wondered. She could only hope a car would drive by.

The dog barked again, and her hearted pounded against her rib cage.

She narrowed her eyes and stared into the distance.

The distorted form of a man jogging out of the woods with a dog behind him, came into focus.

Madeline lowered the window, then called out through the rain, “Hey, excuse me.”

The dog barked again in her direction. From what she could see through the heavy rain and hail stones, it looked as if the man glanced toward her.

“Excuse me,” she yelled out again. “I have a flat tire can you help me?”

What the hell. He probably doesn’t speak English. God, help me.

Madeline stepped out of the car, then waved her arms to beckon the man to come over. Once she had his attention, she pointed to the tire.

Through the onslaught of rain, Madeline noticed the man jogging in her direction. She let out a breath and counted her blessings.

“Are you okay, what's up?” he asked.

He removed his earbuds and doubled over to catch his breath.

Madeline's heart fluttered. She was happy he spoke English.

“My tire’s flat,” she said. “I don't have any juice on my phone. Can I borrow yours?”

Impatiently, she waited for his response.

The stranger moved his gaze over her car, then pulled out his phone.

“Sure.” He handed her the device. “Do you have break down cover?”

“Yes, thank God. That's one thing I do have.”

Madeline took his iPhone in hand, then quickly dialled the breakdown service.

“Yes, hello. It's . . . Oh, I'm sorry,” she paused a moment, trying to recall what Dutch she knew, given the situation.

“Here, allow me,” the man said. “I speak fluent Dutch.”

Madeline's attention moved back to the stranger. Through the rain, from under his hood, he looked down at her. But his face remained obscured partly by his hood.

He held his hand out for the phone, and she passed it to him.

Nodding toward the car, he said, “Get in. It’s pouring out here.”

“Thank you, my name's Madeline Slone. I just need someone to change the tire. That's all.”

“Do you have a spare?”

“I don't know. I guess so, probably.”

The man laughed at her, then placed the phone to his ear under his hood. He spoke in rapid Dutch to the call handler.

Madeline hopped into the car to shield herself from the storm, as well as from the dog that yapped at her feet. The furry beast kept her from closing the door.

Damn dog, move. She kicked at the mut, then slammed the door.

Several seconds later, the man tapped on her window, and she rolled it down.

“Okay. Let's take a look in the boot,” he said.

“The boot?”

“Yeah, for the spare.”

“When will they get here to—”

“Don't worry,” he said. “I'll handle it—it's just a puncture.”

“Oh, okay. But it's raining.” Madeline looked up at the dark, grey sky.

The man laughed again. “It's just water. I'm Chris, by the way.”

Slightly pissed off at his sarcasm, Madeline pressed the release button to open the boot.

Yeah right, just water, she thought, then smoothed a hand over what was her sleek, bone-straight hair now back to its natural curly state.

Thirty minutes later, and with a fresh tire change, Madeline started the engine, then turned to Chris.

“I really don't know how to thank you,” she told him. “You could’ve allowed the breakdown service to handle it. You would’ve been home by now. You're soaked.”

“No problem. You’d still be waiting if I did that.”

Shyly, Madeline looked away from Chris' gaze, focused on the road ahead, then glanced back to him.

He stood in the rain with his hoodie zipped to his neck, shivering.

“Let me give you a lift home, it's the least I can do.”

Chris' expression remained unreadable. He glanced up and down the road.

“Okay, thanks,” he said. “Which way are you heading?”

“To Amsterdam Centraal. What about you?"

“Same.”

“Hop in, let's go.”

Chris rounded the car to the passenger side, opened the door, moved the chair back, and then whistled for his dog to jump in. “I'm sorry if he leaves mud on the seat. I’ll clean it off.”

Madeline cringed at the thought of dog hair and mud all over the seat, then forced a lazy smile across her lips. “Don’t worry about.”

Once Chris and his dog were on board, she placed the car in gear, then slowly took off. She navigated her way through the storm toward the city centre.

The journey was longer than expected. The weather caused Madeline to drive cautiously.

“Here we go. I'll jump out here,” Chris told her almost an hour later.

She pulled over into a free space just past the tramline.

“Thanks for your help today, Chris.”

“No problem.” Chris faced her head on.

For the first time, Madeline noticed just how handsome he was.

His hair was slightly damp and had