“Crap!”
She overcorrected, and the car began to twist again, shuddering and sliding into the oncoming lane.
Headlights glared bright.
Oh. God.
A big truck was bearing down on her!
Frantically, she yanked on the wheel.
The car slid sideways, and she worked the brakes again. Desperately she tried to steer out of the truck’s path.
A horn blasted, echoing in the night.
“Oh, Jesus!” Her heart nearly stopped.
The damned brakes locked.
Still the little SUV skidded sideways, the driver’s side exposed to the massive grille of a pickup barreling down on her.
“Son of a bitch!” Frantic, Kacey stepped on the gas while forcing her steering wheel to turn. Her car lurched, tires spinning crazily. “Come on, come on!”
Sweat beaded on her brow.
The truck bore down on her, close enough that she could see the driver’s face. Their eyes locked. For a split second she thought she recognized him, had seen his face somewhere before. Then she braced herself for the impact. The driver turned away and blasted his horn. The truck slid as the driver stood on his brakes.
She hit the gas.
Her Edge jolted suddenly, tires catching hold.
The little SUV leaped forward, straightening, but not before the corner of the pickup’s front panel clipped her back bumper.
Bam!
The entire SUV shuddered! Kacey’s seat belt cinched tight. Her vehicle was sent spinning crazily across both lanes, snow and ice flying, the inky night flashing through her frozen windshield.
“Come on, come on,” she said as if the damned vehicle could understand her. She worked the brakes and the steering wheel, fighting the spin, feeling sick.
The whirling, swirling darkness eased a bit.
Frozen, snow-covered trees that had been reeling monoliths careening past her windows now became distinct.
The road seemed to straighten.
Finally the Edge stopped.
Kacey’s stomach settled. “Oh, damn,” she whispered, her heart thudding wildly, her pulse jumping. She took a deep breath and felt nervous sweat begin to dry on her skin.
Her vehicle’s nose was pointed in the opposite direction of her house, now facing oncoming traffic as she was in the wrong lane. Fortunately, there were no cars or trucks approaching from either direction. Farther ahead, the pickup had stopped, his taillights glowing a bright red and reflecting against the dirty snow packed onto the asphalt.
Her hands were shaking violently as she eased onto the gas and carefully drove forward, sliding into the correct lane behind the idling pickup. She was pointed in the wrong direction, away from her house, but now, at least, she was in the right lane as far as traffic was concerned, though thankfully there was still none.
Like it or not, she had to talk to the dark-haired guy in the pickup and explain what had happened as she exchanged insurance information with him, but as her headlights reached the tailgate of the snow-covered truck, the once-idling truck took off, snow and ice flying from beneath its tires.
“Hey!” she yelled. What the hell?
For a split second, she considered taking off after him. There was damage to her car, and potentially to the pickup. Technically, unless the driver of the car that had passed her and nearly sideswiped her was found, she was at fault. She stepped on the gas, but her tires spun and the truck was disappearing into the night, its license plate, from Idaho, smudged and dark, only the number eight — or was it three? — visible.
What was it about the driver that had seemed so familiar? His dark hair? The way he stared down at her? Something else?
Straining so hard to see the license plate of the retreating vehicle, at first she didn’t notice the woman at the edge of the road. But a movement caught her eye, and she realized she wasn’t alone. A tall, slim woman with graying blond hair peeking out of a white stocking cap was walking along a trail leading from the surrounding woods. Grace Perchant. The local woman who claimed to speak with ghosts and predict the future. At Grace’s side was a huge dog, its bristly fur tan and gray, its eyes, those of a cunning predator. Part wolf, local gossip claimed, and Kacey believed it.
Grace approached her car as Kacey rolled down the window. “Did you see that?” she asked, and the other woman nodded. “I don’t know why he took off.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
The wolf dog growled low in his throat, eyes as pale as his master’s fixed on the surrounding forest.
“Bane, hush!” Grace commanded, and the big animal became mute.
Kacey was still talking about the other driver. “But. . his truck might be damaged and my car—”
“Your car is fine.” Grace glanced toward the darkness into which the driver had guided his truck.
“I should speak with him.”
“No.” Grace’s gaze returned to Kacey’s. Pale green eyes were round with concern. “You should never speak to him.”
“Why? You know him?”
Grace was shaking her head and again turned to face the stretch of icy road that disappeared into darkness. “I only know that he’s evil,” she said, her breath clouding in the air. “He means you harm.”
“He took off! And I don’t think he meant to hit me.”
Grace turned back to her. “Be careful,” she warned and, whistling to the dog, walked across the road to a spot where the ditch wasn’t quite so deep and a path curved into the surrounding forest.
“Weird,” Kacey said under her breath, still shaken up, then, with some effort, turned her car around and cautiously drove the last four miles to the house she now called home. The lane was piled thick with snow, but her car, dented though it was, churned through the white powder and drove easily to its spot in the garage.
It was nearly eleven by the time she let out her breath and listened to the engine tick as it began to cool. After climbing out of the car, she flipped on the interior lights to survey the damage.
A crumpled bumper on one side, a few scratches, and a small dent were all that had happened. Easily fixed. And she was lucky to have survived. The accident could have been so much worse. Telling herself to deal with everything in the morning, she locked the garage behind her and started for the back door. The night was still, snow gently falling, the path she’d broken earlier already partially filled with new snow. Yet she had no trouble following it, her boots stepping in the large prints she’d left earlier. On the porch she paused and looked around the yard. Why, she didn’t know, just an uneasy feeling that had been with her all night. The accident hadn’t helped, nor had the other driver’s quick exit.
What had Grace said? That the driver was “evil,” that he meant Kacey harm?
That’s ridiculous. Don’t go there! He was just another driver in a hurry. And yet she felt a chill deep in her soul and remembered thinking fleetingly that she’d seen the driver somewhere before. “Now you’re imagining things.” She let herself inside and made certain the dead bolt was secure behind her.
Snapping on lights, she had the ludicrous sensation that someone had been inside. “Oh, for the love of God.” Still, she eyed each room, stepping through the archways and doors as she unwound her scarf, then hung it and her coat on the hall tree near the front door.
No knife-wielding, masked boogeyman leaped out at her.
No dark shadow crossed her path.
No pairs of eyes glowed from behind the curtains.
Muttering beneath her breath, she headed up the stairs. One step down from the landing, she paused, certain she smelled something out of the ordinary lingering in the small alcove where a portrait of her grandparents was mounted on the faded wallpaper Kacey had sworn she would take it down. She hadn’t. The pale pink rose pattern had been Grannie’s favorite, and Kacey had had neither the time nor the heart to strip it from the walls.