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Mentally, I congratulated myself for planning ahead like Dad had taught me. Changing lanes again, I sped up. When my turn appeared ahead, I still hadn’t spotted the SUV. I considered not turning off, but if I was wrong, the scenic route would only cost me a half hour.
The nervous twitch in my left leg proved I wasn’t as confident as I wanted to be, and I pressed on my knee to calm it. Nervous equaled weak, and I was not weak.Be proud, be bold.I’d gotten the tattoo to remind myself every day.
When I reached the fire station, I breathed a deep, easy breath and continued. All my mirror checks showed no scary SUV. A weak woman would have stopped and dialed 9-1-1 from the safety of the fire station and then endured questions from the highway patrol officer about why I felt threatened when I hadn’t even seen the SUV follow me onto this road.
The officer would shake his head all the way back to his patrol car, marveling at what a weak little girl I was.
I wasn’t weak. I was proud and bold, so I drove on by. There was no reason to stop. Besides, it was a nice day to enjoy the winding road through the hills.
Music.That’s what I needed. Something light to cheer me up. I could do this job. Next time, I’d show those creeps at Knife Creek who was boss. As I tuned in a station, I told myself there was nothing to worry about, not even Mom’s pending Saturday barbeque.
Aretha Franklin’s “Respect” came bursting through the speakers, and I sang along. A little R-E-S-P-E-C-T was what I needed, all right. I’d moved up from data analyst to pollution-control auditor, and all on my own—without my dad’s help. I was done being the sheltered little girl in the billionaire’s family. I was on my own and proud of it.
When a melancholy breakup song from another artist started, I switched off the radio. That wasn’t my cup of tea today. How could I relate to a melancholy breakup song when splitting with George Kittleman last year had been the best thing for me?
Then, a shiver ran down my spine when I looked back to find the evil-looking SUV behind me, gaining fast.
I hadn’t checked the mirror in a while, so maybe it was a different black SUV driven by someone in a hurry. There had to be hundreds of them in the LA area, if not thousands.
But then he got close, too close. I pressed on the gas. Sweat beaded on my forehead. My nerves about this SUV had been right.Why didn’t I mention it to Zach?
The SUV accelerated with me.
I hoped my little EPA sedan could handle the curves better than he could. I took the next corner faster, my tires protesting a tiny bit. My left leg trembled. I relaxed my death grip on the wheel when, as expected, the SUV lost ground in the corner.
Then, on the straightaway, he surged forward. My chest tightened as adrenaline rushed through me. God, I wished I’d driven my car. At least it had an engine. Like most government cars this one only had three hamsters on a wheel under the hood.
I knew the road well enough to keep the accelerator on around the long bend leading to the tight corner. My heart raced as I took the car nearer to its limit than I wanted.
The asshole matched me again. This was getting serious fast. Why hadn’t I been smart and stopped at the fire station?
I laid on the brakes for the corner. A second later, he bumped me hard, throwing my head back against the headrest.
We were going too fast. My rear tires squealed, and the tail of my car pitched out. Dad’s words,“Steer into the skid,”echoed in my head as I adjusted the wheel and recovered at the very edge of the pavement, just as he’d had me practice on a rain-slick parking lot years ago.Thank you, Dad.
I had to create distance between me and this maniac, so I floored it, exiting the turn with the little engine screaming in protest. I shot forward and checked the mirror. No, my car didn’t have more get-up-and-go than the big SUV.
When I yanked my eyes forward again, it was almost too late. I saw the deer bounding into my path and swerved right to keep from hitting him and sending three hundred pounds of deer and antlers through my windshield. I still clipped him, and I put my arm up to shield myself as I headed for the edge. Hitting the guardrail sounded like a gunshot as the airbag slammed my wrist into my throat and hit me in the face. My eyes shut instinctively. I was weightless for a second as we hurtled over the edge.
I was thrown side to side like a rag doll as the car rolled down the embankment. When we stopped, I hung upside down from the seatbelt, listening to the whine of the revving engine,then it went silent. My shoulder throbbed to the fast beat of my heart.
Dazed and disoriented, I pushed against the airbag. Man, was it hot, and it smelled of smoke.
Phone.
I needed my phone. It had been in the cupholder next to me. I didn’t see it anywhere now, but I was hanging upside down and dazed.
Fucking shit. The smell of gasoline joined the smoky smell. I fumbled around until I found the seatbelt release. I bumped my head hard on the roof as it let go, and it took some contortions to get untangled from the steering wheel.
Bluetooth. I could use the car’s Bluetooth. I pressed the call button. “Call 9-1-1.”
Nothing. Pressing the start-stop button got the engine to turn over, but not catch. Of course the thing wouldn’t be able to start upside down. Pulling the door handle got me nowhere.Trapped.This could get worse in a hurry. I searched again for my phone.
Then, through the windshield, I saw a man in a black leather jacket at the top of the embankment. “Help me,” I called to him. My throat hurt. It came out hoarse, but loud enough to reach him through the broken passenger-side window. Unfortunately, the roll had crushed the roof on that side enough to make it impossible to get out in that direction.
Black Jacket Guy started down the hill—black pants, black boots, all black. He just needed to find a rock to break the window and get me out.
He smiled at me.Odd.
