“I have no idea. The men in ordnance handle that.” Kimberly shrugged. “If you want to watch the regiment, they’re practicing for Valley Forge tomorrow at McGlinchey’s. Come by around three. That’s our deadline for getting these uniforms done.”
“Thanks, sounds like fun.” Julia headed for the door. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” Paul said with a nod.
“Goodnight.” Kimberly waved, but Mean Jean stayed silent, watching them go.
Julia couldn’t wait to talk to Paul alone, and they left, stepping into a downpour. They hurried down the porch steps to the car and they jumped in. She started the ignition and the windshield wipers, then took off. “Hey, are you thinking about the musket? It must’ve been made on a 3D printer.”
“Yes.” Paul nodded, excited. “If they can make a ghost musket, they can make a ghost gun.”
Julia felt excited, too. “It connects the murder weapon tothisgroup. We have to find out who made that musket. I say we go to the practice at McGlinchey’s tomorrow. We can look around and ask a few questions. Maybe we’ll even figure out what Kay found. It’s where the last clean-up was.” Julia drove through town, which was deserted. House after house was abandoned, and the rest were dark and shrouded with rain. “Things are coming together.”
“Agree, but I think I should go to the reenactment without you.” Paul frowned. “One of those guys could’ve killed Kay, and McKenna and Novak are out there somewhere.”
“I’m going, too.” Julia pressed the gas. Rain pelted her windshield.
“We’ll fight about it tomorrow.” Paul glanced out the window at the storm. “You know, my cousin’s a Civil War reenactor. They’remostly history buffs and former military. We’ll tell Bennie about the muskets if she’s still up.”
“Ghost muskets in a ghost town,” Julia said, half to herself, as she steered out of Buckley to the motel. The terrain turned wooded and hilly, and they drove up a narrow road that shot through the trees. A metal guardrail flanked the stretch. The shoulder vanished. A reflective sign readSPEED LIMIT 15. It was pitch-black out, with no streetlights or houses anywhere.
Julia checked the rearview mirror to see a car behind them, its highbeams on. She didn’t know where it had come from. It accelerated quickly, riding her bumper. “Do you see this car on my ass?”
Paul looked back. “Yes.”
Julia sped up but the car sped up, too. “There’s one guy on the road and he tailgates?”
“Let him pass,” Paul said, newly tense.
“I’m trying but there’s no room.” Julia gritted her teeth. She clenched the wheel and drove close to the guardrail. Gravel sprayed from her tires on the passenger side. The tailgater had room to go around her. He dogged her.
Suddenly powerful highbeams blasted their car interior from behind, blinding her.
“Jesus!” Paul wheeled around, shielding his eyes from the highbeams. “Drive!”
“I am!” Julia was already accelerating. Their car shot forward in the rain, underpowered. The tailgater sped up to them and slammed into their fender.
“He hit us!” Julia’s head snapped forward and back. She squeezed the steering wheel to stay in control of the car.
“What the fuck!” Paul lurched forward, grabbing the hand grip.
Julia floored the gas pedal, her heart pounding. Her speed increased from seventy to eighty, then eighty-five miles an hour.
The tailgater stayed glued to her, blinding her with highbeams. She raced up the side of the road, trying to get out of the way. Rain sluiced down her windshield. Tree branches splintered against their car, scratching its exterior as they blew past.
“He’s trying to run us off the road!” Paul shouted, but ahead, Julia spotted the end of the guardrail. They were heading through the overpass and back to level ground. The shoulder of the road reappeared, lined by thick dark woods.
“Hold on!” Julia steered for the shoulder and drove off the road, braking with a lurch just before they crashed into an oak tree.
The tailgater zoomed past them, spraying rainwater and gravel.
Julia gasped, out of breath, realizing what she’d just seen. “That wasn’t a car, it was a black pickup! That’s the type of truck Kay’s killer drove!”
“For real?” Paul asked, his eyes wide as he raked back his hair.
“Yes.” Julia sagged in her seat, her hands on the wheel. “Did you get the license plate?”
“No, but there was a flag sticker in the back window.”
