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I swallow hard and focus on the road.
The last thing I need right now is to be thinking about anything that has to do with Cutter Buckley’s penis.
I notice the car behind me and get the same sinking in my belly feeling that I had the last time.
Yes, the serial killer is back.
And here I am, dumb enough to be out on my own with my son sort of home alone.
Panic settles in as I wonder what Maryanne would do if I never came back home. What will happen to Saxon? He’ll probably get tossed to Hunter. And we all know Hunter won’t have the first clue on how to raise him.
I speed up.
The car behind me speeds up.
I can’t tell if the headlights are those annoying LED ones or if the serial killer has their high beams blaring at me. Warning me. Threatening me. Wanting me to make a mistake and turn down a dark street. Or crash.
I think about calling Cutter.
But that would mean I owe him even more besides the money for a car battery.
I slow as I approach a stop sign.
I take a chance and I don’t fully stop.
Instead, I simply coast through the stop sign and then turn right at the last possible second.
My eyes watch carefully in the rearview mirror.
For a few seconds… nothing.
I exhale a breath.
Then I see the car take the turn. To the right.
It’s still following me.
At the next corner, I turn left.
Same for the next one.
Another logical thought hits me.
Whoever this is following me, they must work for Cutter. He’s a famous baseball player. He probably has security. Protection. Bodyguards. Whatever you want to call it. He’s not in some big city or with his normal trainers and all that.
I finally feel like I’ve lost the car for good.
I’m a good mile from the gym, driving along back roads in town.
For the next few minutes I twist and turn, then check the rearview mirror.
Once I feel safe and definitely not followed, I hurry my way back home.
My mind? Racing.
Whether it’s my mom brain kicking into overdrive or that I’ve watched too many crime movies and shows, I’m scared half to death that the serial killer has gone to my house to go after Maryanne and my son.
If I call Maryanne, I’ll scare her.
