As she neared her vehicle, she pressed the key fob and was welcomed by a pair of beeps and a distinct click as her car doors unlocked.
Behind her, a bright light cast a long shadow ahead of her. The light drew closer and she turned. It was a car. The same car that had been parked across the street from her office a few minutes earlier.
The engine roared as the vehicle gathered speed, heading straight for her. She waved her arms frantically. Didn’t he see her?
She froze in the headlights a moment, then her handbag fell from her shoulder as she lunged to one side. She felt a breeze as the car whipped through the spot she’d occupied a moment before. Her handbag tumbled and rolled, destroyed by the tires of the vehicle.
She clambered to her feet, her heart pounding furiously in her chest. Someone was trying to kill her. Why?
Her body shook all over, her breathing rapid and shallow, and she found it hard to think clearly.
Nina hesitated a moment and then raced toward her car. She stopped short as the driver hit the brakes hard, squealed to a stop on the asphalt, then spun around and stopped. The attacking vehicle faced the side of her car, its headlights flooding the door. As the driver revved the engine, she recoiled in horror.
He was waiting. Waiting for her.
She glanced toward her handbag. Even if she could get to it, her cell phone was probably destroyed, and she could never make it safely into her vehicle before being rammed. The fence behind her car was too high to climb. There was no choice but to run back across the parking lot to the school and hope she could outrun her attacker.
She spun around and sprinted across the lot at full speed. Tires squealed behind her and she glanced over her shoulder. The car moved forward, straight toward her.
She would never make it.
Nina stopped short, turned to face the vehicle, tensed her leg muscles, and held her breath. The car missed her by inches as she dove aside at the last second. She stumbled to her feet as the vehicle braked and circled around for another try.
Her strategy wasn’t going to work. She frantically tried to think of a way out of the deadly situation. She raced for the passenger side of her car and tugged at the door handle. The door swung open.
She lunged inside, fell across the front seat, and scrambled to a sitting position. Her eyes bulged and panic overtook her as the other car sped toward her head on. There was a roar, then a crash, as the vehicle swerved and rammed the passenger-side door. It closed with an explosion of shattered glass and twisted metal.
But she was unharmed.
She howled in exasperation coupled with intense fear. Her keys. She had dropped her keys when she’d lost her handbag. She squinted through the windshield and saw them, twenty feet in front of her, glinting in the soft moonlight. And off to her left, the deadly car relentlessly persisted, lined up to T-bone her vehicle on the driver side.
There was no protection, no way of starting the vehicle, and no one to help. She dove headlong through the empty window, gouging her side on a shard of glass as she scrambled to escape the death trap.
She landed hard on her shoulder and hit her head on the asphalt. She lay still a moment, stunned, trying to clear her senses and catch her breath as the attacking vehicle roared somewhere close by.
Her keys. She had to get her keys.
She stumbled to her feet, dazed and hurting, and staggered toward her key ring. It was her only chance. She’d dodged the vehicle once and she could do it again. She would grab her keys, make it to her car, and get as quickly and as far away as possible.
Nina raced to her keys, crouched down, and scrambled to pick them up as tires squealed behind her. She turned to face the killing machine, its headlights nearly blinding her as it roared closer. She waited, poised, and ready.
Now.
Too late. The deadly machine struck her, knocking her off her feet and tossing her to the asphalt. She landed on her back, stunned and unable to move. One leg felt broken, the other weak and useless. She attempted to think clearly, to still the panic overwhelming her senses.
Tires squealed again. An engine raced.
She struggled to sit but fell back on her elbows. As she gazed helplessly toward the oncoming vehicle, she saw her murderer’s face for the first time, illuminated by the moonlight.
It was a face she recognized. A face from years ago.
Chapter 2
DAY 2 - Tuesday, 6:25 a.m.
ANNIE LINCOLN AWOKE early and her eyes popped open. She took a deep, gasping breath and stared at the ceiling in the dim bedroom. Getting back to sleep was the last thing on her mind, the first thing being the horrendous nightmare she had endured.
She was bound by rusty chains on the fourth floor of a dilapidated mansion, somewhere in a secluded spot, deep in a dark forest. Blood-red tears trickled from the eyes of her abductor as he watched her, his painted lips curled into a sadistic smile. He held up a blood-stained knife and promised to cut off her fingers, one at a time, until she told him the truth.
She had no idea what the truth was or what he wanted to know. She felt no pain as the bloody knife cut through her fingers, and she watched them fall to the floor at his feet, wondering if she would be able to replace them.
It was somewhere around the seventh finger when she awoke, her trembling body covered in chilling sweat. She brought her hands up. Even in the dim room, she saw her fingers were all there, and she breathed again.
She turned her head. Jake was still fast asleep, a contented look on his face, oblivious to what she’d endured. Looking at him made her feel secure, and her shaky chills subsided. She rolled out of bed, her mind foggy, and staggered to the shower. She let the steaming water wash the horrifying memories away.
She wondered if her nightmare had a meaning, or if they were dregs of the worst experiences her mind held. Lately, along with her husband, she’d had more than her fair share of those.
When Jake had been laid off, they’d transformed her successful freelance research business into Lincoln Investigations. It had taken awhile to get the new firm established, but now, the small Canadian city of Richmond Hill they called home supplied more than enough clients to keep them busy. As well as tame chores like background checks and research for regular clientele, they often encountered villains of all varieties.
She stepped from the shower, wrapped herself in a comfortable towel, and blow-dried her shoulder-length hair. She frowned and squinted in the mirror. Perhaps she was mistaken, but for a moment, she thought she saw a gray hair sprouting among the blond. Must’ve been the light.
By the time she got back to the bedroom, Jake was already stirring, his six-foot-four inch body almost reaching both ends of the bed. She leaned over and helped him wake up with a kiss on his warm lips. He opened his eyes and his warm lips turned into a warm grin.
“Good morning,” he said. He rubbed his hand through his short dark hair, then stretched, yawned, groaned once, and asked, “Sleep okay?”
“Slept great,” she lied, straightening her back. Actually, it was mostly the truth, except for her early-morning nightmare, now fading away.
She felt Jake’s eyes on her while she dressed, and then he tumbled out of bed and yawned as she left the room.
Seeing their eight-year-old son always brought another bright point to her day. She padded into his bedroom and gently jiggled him awake. Matty opened his eyes, rolled over, and lay still. One of these days they would get him an alarm clock so he could get himself out of bed.
“Let’s go, Matty. Time to get up.”