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“These are all too nice,” she said after walking around them.

“They were all bought for next to nothing,” Repo said, shrugging it off.

“But you fixed them up.”

“Car repair is almost all labor cost,” Repo explained. “The parts are dirt cheap.”

“What do you think?” she asked, looking at me.

“I think crossovers crash test better.”

“Do they?” she asked Repo.

“Yeah. More car around you is generally safer. Sedans are less likely to flip, but if I were getting a new car for my wife, I’d put her in a SUV or crossover.”

“I like the color,” she said, running her hand over the pale green hood.

“Go on and sit in. See how well you see. You shouldn’t have a problem, though. You’re pretty tall,” Repo said, handing her the keys.

Georgie took them and opened the door.

But as soon as she sat down in the driver’s seat, I saw her eyes go wide and her breathing kick up faster.

I moved around the car to climb in the passenger side.

“Having flashbacks?”

“Yeah,” she said, sounding breathless.

“That’s normal. That was some scary shit. A wreck is bad enough, but someone terrorizing you is a whole different thing.”

“Yeah. I mean, the crash itself was so fast. But the chase and the tapping… that felt like it went on forever. That stupid road is so long.”

We’d hit a frustrating wall on the search for the bastards who did it. And I knew if Junior wasn’t making any progress, the chances of the cops getting anywhere were slim to none.

He did manage to pick them up on a few more cameras that we hadn’t seen before. But they’d managed to evade them again as the car drove into a neighborhood then seemingly disappeared.

Junior was working on trying to cross-reference DMV records with the make and model, but that shit was going to take time—if anything came from it at all.

I hated the idea that they could possibly get off. That they could move on with their lives thinking they were untouchable. That they could maybe do it again. And maybe next time, they’d kill someone.

And, yeah, it was possible Georgie had been right. They could have been just a couple of moron kids. But if that was the case, they were a couple of moron kids who needed to be taught a lesson.

Honestly, the more I thought about it, the more likely it seemed that it was joyriding teenagers. Who else would be so reckless? Who else wouldn’t know the consequences of their actions? Not just the crash and injuries. But all the other annoying shit that adults would think of: insurance claims, premium changes, shopping for a new car, lost work hours from injuries and lack of transportation.

Only a kid would be dumb enough not to realize how much this kind of shit could ruin someone’s life.

“I don’t know if this kind of thing is reassuring or not. But your chances of ever being purposely hit again are almost nonexistent.”

“Logically, I know that. But I think it’s going to be a long time before I feel comfortable driving alone at night on backroads.”

“Luckily, you can get just about everywhere around here on busier roads. You will get there one day. But that day doesn’t have to be this one. Or next week. Or next month.”

“Yeah, I’m sure I will get… oh,” she said when her phone started ringing, startling her enough to drop it.

I fetched it out of my footwell and handed it over.

“Did you forget to check in with the sisters this morning?”