Page 140 of No Good Fight

Then I stop.

No.

Leave the trail.

Ryder needs the truck exactly where it is so that he can make sure Preston pays for this.

I slide back down onto both feet because there’s no point trapping myself halfway inside. One of my knees gives almost immediately, and I hit the wet gravel hard enough to tear through the thin fabric covering it.

The pain barely registers.

I brace one hand against the side of the truck and force myself upright again.

If I can’t leave, then I have to get to Mrs. Vance.

The logic is terrible, I know that.

I start toward the bend in the road anyway.

My first step works.

The second drifts sideways.

By the third, I have to reach for the truck again, but I’m already past the end of it and there’s nothing there to catch me. I stumble onto the muddy shoulder, recover badly, then keep going because stopping feels more dangerous than falling.

The road ahead looks longer now.

I know it isn’t.

My legs simply aren’t going to carry me there.

I make it a few more yards before one knee folds beneath me. My hands hit mud and gravel, sending a dull shock through my wrists. For several seconds I stay that way, breathing hard, staring down at my own fingers while I order them to push me back up.

They move slowly but it isn’t enough.

I turn my head toward the truck.

It’s still visible behind me.

Good.

The phone is with Ryder.

The messages are there.

The cameras saw me leave.

The truck is here.

He’ll know where I went.

He’ll know Preston did this.

I roll onto my side, cheek against cold gravel, and try to focus on the pale strip of sky between the trees.

I listen for footsteps.

For Preston’s voice.