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shop. Do I have a choice?
    “That would be great. Thank you so much for
your offer. I can have someone pick me up there if you have a phone
I can use.”
    “Yeah. Now, let’s get out of here. It’s
colder than a penguin’s pecker out here,” he said as he looked down
at the snow piled high on her driver’s side door. “It looks like
I’m going to have to dig you out a bit. Your door ain’t going to
open.” He pulled his black ski mask back down, protecting his face
against the harsh wind, and began heaving the snow away from the
door over his shoulder with quick movements. Of course, he’s
done this before. He’s a tow truck driver.
    Delaney closed the window and gathered her
phone with her overnight bag before waiting for Joe to stop
shoveling. He paused and motioned his hands before yelling “Give it
a try!” She pushed the door with her shoulder, shoving all her body
weight into the plastic next to the window. The door opened four
inches.
    “Close it!” Joe yelled, signaling again with
his hand. He began digging deeper to free yet more of the snow
built up on the door. She watched as more snow flung over his
shoulder ten feet behind him. His hunched body worked mechanically
much more efficient than she anticipated from a relatively bigger
man in - what she guessed - his early fifties. “Try ‘er again!”
    She lowered her shoulder again, pushing the
door open wide enough that she could fit through. The door scraped
against the snow as she squeezed herself out of the safety of the
Civic and into the white fury of hell that pelted her whole body.
The cold wetness seeped into her thin leather boots as she sunk a
few inches down. She put her head down and covered the side of her
face with her hand as she tried to move forward, the wind whipping
her body like a ragdoll. Joe climbed back up the ditch, motioning
for her to follow in his path of footsteps as he reached to grab
her forearm to help her up the slope. The grip was firm, hoisting
her onto the side of the road next to the truck. She climbed into
the passenger seat of the truck after she noted the “Joe’s Towing”
sprawled on the door.
    The four-by-four plowed south down the
freeway toward Joe’s shop, just ten miles away from Delaney’s
stranded Civic. She looked over, examining Joe’s blue snowsuit,
letting her eyes follow the red stripe up to his face. With his ski
mask pulled up, resting on top of his head, and gloves set aside
next to his seat, Delaney caught a better look at Joe’s face that
was clearly aged with years of hard labor. His hands were rough and
thick with calluses, dirt gathered deep under his nails. He noticed
her staring at his hands gripped loose on the steering wheel.
    “I bury a lot of bodies,” he rumbled with a
crack in his lips. Before Delaney could reply, he continued in a
serious tone, “I’m joking, dear. I suppose not the best time to
joke given the situation.”
    “The ground’s too hard to bury any bodies
now anyway. You better wait until the spring then you can get a
little deeper,” she replied, looking straight ahead.
    “Well, then, Miss Delaney, I guess I know
who to call if I’m ever in a predicament of that nature.” He
paused, looking over at his passenger, her brown hair falling over
her shoulders beneath her hat. “You never can pinpoint those
lady-killers, can you?” he finished.
    “Well, I’m surely not one of those, unless
I’m provoked, of course.” She looked at Joe’s face as his smile
spread wider.
    “You remind me of my daughter; you’re a
feisty one. What possessed you to drive a Civic in this snowstorm,
by the way? You know that’s a terrible idea,” he said. You sound
like Michael Jones. A father of a daughter.
    “My brother’s getting married tomorrow in
Milwaukee and I was headed down to spend time with my family. I
didn’t bother to check the weather like most normal people in
Wisconsin, and I just happened to lose reception when my father
called, urging me to wait