She racked her brain. What was the last sign we passed?
God, she hated driving at night.
She opted to pull over at the first exit. It was pitch black outside. The highway lights did little to illuminate a road or wide shoulder where it would be safe to pull over. From what she could recall last time they travelled the highway, the next main exit was a ways down the road. They were in the middle of nowhere.
She drove another five minutes. The truck stayed on her bumper. It was unnerving to have someone so close behind her. What if she had to slam on the brakes?
And why is this driver so persistent?
The thought niggled at her. Being followed like this made her think of those horror movies in which the unsuspecting friends are harassed by a trucker, then tortured and killed.
Don’t pull over until he’s gone.
Rebecca slowed the car to under the speed limit. Hopefully the guy in the truck would give up on following her. It wasn’t as if her little Hyundai was sheltering him from the onslaught of rain.
Go past me, asshole.
Yes, Mr. Truck Driver had now graduated from buddy to asshole.
“Are we there yet, Mom?”
“Not quite, Colton.”
“I wish it wasn’t raining.”
“Me too, honey.” More than you know.
Up ahead a highway light illuminated a gravel road. It probably led to private property, but that didn’t matter. It was a perfect place to pull over, providing there wasn’t a chain across the road.
She blew out a pent-up breath. Yes! Finally!
She signaled right and reduced her speed. The truck slowed with her, and her heart skipped a beat. “Go around us.”
She pulled onto the gravel road, the tires kicking up water. The truck pulled in right behind her. She slapped the steering wheel and muffled a curse. Of all the roads to choose, she’d picked the one belonging to the owner of the truck. Really?
She attempted to pull over on the dirt road, but it was barely wide enough for one vehicle. She had no choice but to keep moving. Somewhere ahead there must be a place where she could turn around. She hoped the truck driver wouldn’t be too annoyed that she’d turned off on his land. Some people were very protective of their property.
There was a dull thud and the car lurched.
What’s this guy doing?
“Mom?” Colton cried out. “What was that?”
“It’s okay, honey. The road’s a bit rough.”
It wasn’t the road that had made the sedan lurch. The bastard truck driver had hit the back bumper of her car.
Rebecca’s pulse raced with fear. She thought about all the horror movies she’d watched growing up. The ones with the psychopathic truckers who hunted down innocent victims with their big rigs.
Jesus!
Checking the mirror, she watched in horror as the headlights from the truck behind her grew larger. He was taking another run at her. She pressed her foot to the gas pedal, weaving along the unpaved road until they were enclosed by bushes and trees. She had the high beams on her car to guide her along the rough road, but the rain made visibility almost nil.
She was lost. There were no signs. No houses. No streetlights.
“Mommy, why are you driving so fast?” Ella asked.
“I want to get to the hotel,” she said in a faux cheerful voice.
God, how she wanted to get to a hotel. Or a gas station. Anywhere there were people. And a phone.
She thought about her cell phone. It was in her purse, which had landed on the floor of the passenger’s seat when she’d veered around the last wild corner.
“Mom, there’s someone behind us,” Colton said in a nervous voice.
“I know.”
“How come he’s so close?”
“He wants to pass us, but there’s no room.”
The truck loomed closer. With the trees and brush around them keeping away much of the rain, she could make out a row of lights on the top of the truck, the kind hunters used. With these and the truck’s headlights on high, the light converged into one eye-piercing beam.
She tilted the rearview mirror so the light wouldn’t be in her eyes.
The truck hit them again, harder this time.
In the back seat Colton let out a yelp. “Mom?”
“Sit back, honey. I’ll find a place to turn around.”
Branches whipped at the side of the car as she steered it deeper into the woods. She wanted to cry. Scream. Turn around and go home. But those weren’t options. All she could do was follow the road to God knows where and pray that there’d be help at the end.
What did the trucker want with them?
She glanced in the rearview mirror. Ella was awake now, playing with her Barbies, oblivious to the danger that was hot on their trail. Colton wore a fearful expression. Oh God. He knows.
“It’s okay, honey. We’re―”
The truck slammed into them. She heard Ella and Colton scream. There was nothing she could do except scream with them as the car pitched forward toward a dense wooded area and branches scraped along the outside of the vehicle.
The front end slammed into a solid mass, the impact knocking the breath from Rebecca’s lungs. As rain climaxed into a crescendo on the roof, she was thrown into the steering wheel. Pain rippled through her chest and ribs, and she fought to stay conscious. Her vision wavered, distorting everything in front of her.
Colton… Ella…
Darkness engulfed her.
Chapter Eleven
Marcus had a mere hour and a half left on his shift. For some reason he was feeling antsy. He blamed his edginess on all the coffee he’d had during his shift. Tiredness had crept into every joint of his body, and caffeine was one of few stimulants he could use nowadays.
Leo had given him a hard time this shift, telling him he should cut back on the caffeine so that maybe Marcus would finally sleep.
Marcus stared into his empty mug. Maybe Leo’s right.
He definitely felt jittery. Last time he’d felt like this he’d been injecting himself with codeine. Stronger drugs had followed.
Look where that got you.
Quitting hadn’t been easy. He still had cravings. He remembered quite clearly the sense of ethereal peace he’d felt while flying high. Nothing had bothered him. Until he found he couldn’t function without it. Without the rush that burned through his veins.
He’d almost lost Jane as a result of his addiction.
The phone rang, and a small light on it flashed. It was an inner office call. Shipley.
“Need something, Pete?”
“Time for your weekly piss.”
Marcus sighed. This game was getting old.
“Fine. I’ll be right there.”
As he headed for the men’s washroom, he wondered what in God’s name had possessed him to promise a weekly drug test.
You needed the job. That’s why.
Besides, Leo had suggested it was the only way Pete Shipley would welcome him to the center, and it wasn’t like Marcus had a lot of options. His very public and humiliating suspension from EMS had limited his choices. Since he could no longer work as a paramedic, 911 was the closest thing to the rush he’d once felt working the job. He’d whizzed through the training in no time.
Now he was whizzing in a cup on command.
Suck it up, Marcus. You made your bed.
He pushed open the washroom door.
“Here,” Shipley said, handing him a sealed plastic cup. “Make it fast. I’ve got work to do.”