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Before I can ask him what he means, I flinch away from the intense glare in the side mirror. “I hate those things. They make it a pain to drive at night.”
“It doesn’t help that this guy is up our ass.” He speeds up a little to put space between us and the offending car. “Nobody behind us for a mile, but he has to ride our tail.”
Of all the times for me to laugh… “I remember you teaching me to drive. You always drilled that into my head. Leave at least five car lengths between me and the vehicle in front of me.”
“And do you?” There’s a tiny bit of humor in his question, thank God.
“I hear your voice in my head all the time, so yeah.”
He doesn’t laugh—he’s too busy raising a hand above his eyes now that the headlights coming from behind us are blinding him. “What the hell?”
Sometimes a lifetime’s worth of understanding can pass through a person’s head in the time it takes to gasp. Like a sudden download. So many things materialize all at once, so fast you think your head will split open.
That’s not a random driver.
Wouldn’t this be the perfect time to come after me?
They were counting on this.
This must have been how she felt once she figured out somebody was on her tail.
“We have to get off the road!!” I twist in my seat, looking behind us with a hand shading my eyes. It’s no use. Those headlights blind me to everything else. I can’t make out the car or who’s behind the wheel.
“What do you mean?” My father peers out the rearview mirror.
“I have a very bad feeling.” The GPS says we’re ten minutes from the safe house. “I don’t think—”
The car lurches when we’re tapped from behind hard enough to make the phone tumble from my fingers and into the back seat. “Shit!” Dad grunts out as he fights to regain control of the vehicle.
“We have to get away from this car.” I try not to sound as panicked as I’m feeling.
“You think?” His voice is tight, like a wire pulled taut enough that it could snap any second. He sounds like the cop he used to be. “Face forward and make sure your seat belt is secure.”
“Dad?” I can’t find the breath to finish whatever it was I wanted to say.
“I know. Just hold on—and if I tell you to get down, get down.”
From the corner of my eye, I watch his gaze dart back and forth between the windshield and the mirror.
“This son of a bitch thinks he’s dealing with an amateur.”
“Please, be careful,” I squeak. It’s amazing I can take a breath with my throat tightened to the size of a pinhole.
The car lurches again when the driver hits the right corner. This time we swerve to the side and turn halfway before Dad steers us over to the center lane.
Dinner’s churning in my stomach and my life is flashing in front of my eyes. There are only so many close calls a person can have before they’ve had one too many. What sucks is there’s no way to know which one is the last until it’s too late to do anything about it.
I’m too young to die. I have too much to live for. Everything was finally starting to click. I was a heartbeat away from officially being engaged. I was about to plan a shopping trip with Dad. He was finally coming around on so many things and looking forward to being a granddad and, damn it, I need more time.
A single thought rings out loud and clear—so clear I can hear it. More like a prayer than a thought.
Mom. Help us, please.
Is this how she felt? Seeing that car bearing down on her, panic rising in her throat, the combination of fear and survival instincts making her foot heavier against the pedal.
No. In her case, it was worse. In her case, she was alone. She went through all of this by herself.
“I can’t shake this son of a bitch!” Dad jerks the wheel to the side while barely avoiding sideswiping a truck. I’m unable to bite back a breathless scream and I can’t help but wonder if she screamed too.
