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Lindsey Presley stared at the blond man confronting Deputy Jeff Gage, her every nerve suddenly on edge.
Reaching behind her, Lindsey double-checked that the front door to her restaurant remained firmly locked. She hugged the night deposit bag tighter. She prayed she was wrong. After all, the young man didn’t look that different from other young people in the area. Clean shaven, short hair, t-shirt, jeans. Barely more than a kid. Average.
Normal. Except for that vintage orange 1968 Pontiac GTO that waited behind him. Its front door stood open, waiting. Its motor idled with the distinctive rumble of a pampered muscle car.
Lindsey blinked hard, distracted as the kid shook his left hand out to one side, as if trying to fling a bug from it. His right hand remained hidden behind his hip.
Go back inside. This isn’t right. A street-wise instinct honed in her childhood urged Lindsey to flee behind closed doors. There a kitchen bristled with knives she could use for defense. But that instinct fought with her reluctance to leave the sheriff’s deputy who stood between her and the young man. Jeff had sworn to protect her on the nightly deposit runs to the bank and had done exactly that. During those short rides to the bank, they’d become casual friends. She didn’t want to abandon him. She wouldn’t.
Friends don’t do that. And the guy still hasn’t done anything wrong. Logic told her to wait; her gut told her to run.
Jeff, who had been waiting for her at the foot of the front steps, also seemed to sense something odd about the way the young man had slid the GTO into the parking lot after closing time. He stood with his back stiff, feet apart and firmly planted, his hand on his gun. On guard and wary.
The man’s left hand shook harder, and Lindsey’s muscles tensed. Now, she thought. It’s going to happen now. What do I do?
Trip the alarm. The thought startled her, but she immediately knew it was the right thing to do. Turning, she thrust her key in the lock, twisted it, and cracked open the door. If she didn’t close it or enter the code inside within thirty seconds, the alarm would sound.
“Sir, you need to leave.” Jeff’s firm command echoed over the empty parking lot. Lindsey pivoted around to watch them. “The restaurant is closed.”
The man shook his head, now holding his left hand high and smiling broadly. “I understand. I understand. I just need directions. I drove all the way from . . . from Chicago. Trying to find a girl I met online. Just a girl.” He stepped forward, as if to go around Jeff.
Jeff blocked his path. He glanced warily up at the kid’s left hand. “Where are you going?”
The blond never responded. Instead, he swung his right arm around from behind his back. The stun gun he held ground into Jeff’s chest. With a stark cry of pain, Jeff dropped to the asphalt, his body twisting in spastic seizures.
“No!” Lindsey screamed. She dashed down the steps toward them, throwing the money bag at the man. “Take it!” She lunged toward Jeff.
She never reached him. Fire shot through her skull as the man grabbed her by the hair, yanking her backward. He punched her in the solar plexus. Lindsey’s breath stopped and spots danced in front of her eyes as she collapsed. Her assailant slung her over the hood of the GTO, cursing under his breath as the alarm blared through the night, the sirens radiating off every wall in the neighborhood.
Lindsey fought for air as he yanked her arms behind her. Plastic ties cut deep into her skin as he secured her wrists. Finally drawing a raspy gasp, Lindsey tried to scream again, but a sharp blow to her ribs cut it off as she curled in agony. He snapped her ankles together, wrapping the ties around them. He tossed her over one shoulder, her small frame no burden at all to him.
He bent to scoop up the money, then kicked Jeff twice as he passed the struggling deputy. Once in the side, then his boot struck the back of Jeff’s skull with a sickening crack. Jeff went limp.
Lindsey found more breath. “No!” She bucked against the man, but he ignored her, shoving her unceremoniously into the back seat of the GTO. “Scream away, Darlin’. No one will hear you over this baby.”
The blond got in and gunned the engine. The fine-tuned rumble exploded into a roar that split the night air. The orange car spit loose gravel and smoke bellowed from beneath its tires as it spun out of the parking lot less than five minutes after it had pulled in.
Lindsey pushed herself around, still fighting to breathe normally, regularly. Not an easy task—pain throbbed through her ribs and head. She struggled against her bonds, without success. Sweat coated her back and legs where they pressed against the vinyl backseat of the car. The fury and adrenaline that seared through her made Lindsey’s mind spin. Her muscles trembled, but terror and pain kept her sane and focused as the last few minutes played over and over in her head.
Lord, how do I get out of this? Help me.
Lindsey twisted until she could see her attacker over the low, split front seat of the GTO. His pasty face glowed in the glare of oncoming headlights, and rivulets of water dripped out of the man’s hair and trailed down his cheeks and neck.
He’s sweating! Despite the open front windows and light chill of the early fall night, the blond’s hair remained plastered to his scalp. He fidgeted, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel and squirming in his seat. He pulled a slip of paper from his shirt pocket to check it, mumbling directions to himself. Over the roar of the engine, Lindsey barely caught the words, “Must be ten twenty-three. Go slow. Careful. Left after three miles.” He shoved the paper back in his pocket. He let up on the gas, and the car slowed.
He’s going to turn. Leave the main road. Lindsey knew the road he planned to take. It ran deep into an almost impenetrable woodland. In that second’s realization, Lindsey knew she was about to die. No! Her mind screamed the word, and in pure desperation, a rough idea formed in her mind. He’ll be focused on the turn, the other cars. An insane idea.
As Lindsey slowly shifted her body into position, more words reached her ears, words repeated over and over.
“Must be ten twenty-three. Must be ten twenty-three.”
Lindsey frowned, then blinked the words away. She must get ready, no matter how crazy it seemed. You can do this. You can do this! Pushing over on her back, she ignored the agony in her hands as she braced her shoulders against the middle of the seat and cautiously drew her knees up to her chest. Her short, petite frame let her curl into a tight ball, and Lindsey had never felt so grateful for being so short—or for taking that Pilates class her sister had insisted on.
Still mumbling the numbers, the blond braked the car suddenly, shouting at an oncoming vehicle to get out of the way. As he stamped on the accelerator again, heading the car into the left turn, Lindsey shrieked with all her might. Startled, the man’s head snapped around to glare at her, just as she kicked both legs with as much strength as she had, thrusting her thick-soled, restaurant-durable shoes directly at his face.
His scream matched hers as blood shot from his crushed nose. He jerked, twisting the wheel to the right, veering the car out of the turn and straight toward the corner where the two roads met. He never had a chance to touch the brakes as the orange GTO crashed through the guard rail and soared into the air. The engine howled as the tires left the road. Lindsey felt weightless, her body floating above the seat as the car arced into the ravine. Then the car plowed into the rock and dirt, landing grill down with a deafening sound of sheared metal and shattering glass.
Lindsey plunged forward over the seat. Searing pain sliced through her as her shins hit the blond’s head, which slammed forward into the steering wheel with a sickening crack. She crashed into the windshield, then the dash, as the car thudded over on its right side. It slid another few yards before the weight of the engine pulled it upright again.
Lindsey’s head thudded into the dash a second time, and the darkness of unconsciousness consumed her.
* * *
Jeff groaned as consciousness returned. Rocks and dirt bit into his cheek, and he tried to raise his head, which throbbed with a deep, unrelenting pain. Lindsey! Oh, dear God, what did he do to Lindsey? The silent air around him deepened his sense of panic. What happened to the alarms?
He heard the crunch of hard soles on gravel and tried to push up, only to have a foot land in the middle of his back, shoving him back to the ground. With quick, efficient moves, the man plucked Jeff’s handcuffs off his belt and secured the deputy’s hands behind him.
“Relax, boy. She’ll be dead before you can get to your feet.”
Jeff clawed through his memory, trying to recognize the rough voice, but nothing popped. His brain felt as fried as his muscles.
But Lindsey couldn’t be dead. She couldn’t. “No.” His voice croaked.
The man bent closer but deftly stayed out of Jeff’s line of sight. “Oh, yes. You’re worthless, boy. If that woman were still alive, she’d hate you for abandoning her. Sheriff Taylor should fire you. And he will by the time we get through with you. We’ll be watching and waiting for the next chance to make you fail.”
Jeff spit gravel out of his mouth and tried to speak. Then he heard the ominous buzz just before the spears of pain hit his shoulder. Lightning shots of current sheared through him again, and Jeff screamed in rage and agony.
* * *
Nothing smells like a wrecked car. Lindsey had been in more than one accident, and the smells always lingered in her memory. Hot oil, burnt rubber, gasoline, and stressed metal. Acidic smoke burned her nose. It had startled Lindsey to consciousness, but now she just wanted away from it. She tried to move, but a low moan escaped her instead, as each and every inch of her body felt battered and bruised.
It was an old feeling, deep from within her childhood, and she pushed it away, mentally going over her body to survey her injuries. The coppery taste in her mouth and swollen cheek and lips meant a blow to the face, and the slick and sticky liquid coating her hands told her that the plastic ties had cut deep into her skin. Her right shoulder felt twisted. One ankle throbbed with an excruciating ache, but nothing felt broken.
But worse than her injuries, Lindsey stared, face-to-face, at her attacker. Her small, limp frame had crumpled and wedged itself in the passenger floorboard. Unbelted, the blond man had toppled from behind the wheel when the car went up on its right side. He’d smashed head first into the passenger side window, then slid down in the seat as the car settled back on four wheels. Even unconscious and bleeding from two major head wounds, he felt menacing.
Who are you? Ghostly pale, his round face still had a babyish quality to it, like a teenager. She’d never seen him before, and from Jeff’s reaction back at the restaurant, he hadn’t recognized him either. And Lindsey felt pretty certain that Deputy Jeff Gage knew just about everyone in Bell County.
Jeff. Her thoughts flashed back to the restaurant, to the sight of Jeff lying unmoving on the ground. “Please, Lord,” she whispered. “Let him be OK.” In that moment, Lindsey realized she really wanted Jeff here, to see him, to know he was all right. For him to tell her everything would be OK.
“Please. Get us out of this.”
Out. I have to get out. Lindsey tried to move, to straighten out her legs, but she almost screamed from pain that shot through her muscles and joints. She gave up, taking comfort in the sound of someone scrambling around in the brush outside the car.
“We’re here!” she called out. “Please help us!”
A blinding light hit her face, and Lindsey grimaced, trying to turn away. “Hey!”
“You’re supposed to be dead.”
Lindsey stilled. “Who are you?”
A gloved hand reached in through the passenger window and fumbled around the boy’s body. “Is he dead?”
Fear seized Lindsey now, freezing her tongue. And old memory shot through her, one from her childhood. A voice that had made her stop in her tracks, unable to speak. Words so similar, Lindsey wondered if she were hallucinating. You’re supposed to be dead. Is she dead?
She. Not he. Lindsey blinked hard, trying to clear the fog in her mind. Everything felt mixed up, the past and present like paint colors running together. Why can’t I remember!
“No matter.” The hand kept pulling at the boy’s close until it found the shirt pocket. “If he’s not, he will be soon. I’ll see to it. Stupid . . . deserves to die for wrecking this car. What a waste. Beautiful machine.” Fingers clawed into the pocket, plucking the piece of paper from it. “And for not completing his job with you.”
The street-savvy kid that still lived deep inside Lindsey reacted instinctively, and she twisted hard, shoving herself deeper beneath the dash. She screamed just as the light swung, smashing into the spot her head had been. The light shattered and went out.
Sirens split the night air, and the man cursed under his breath, backing away from the car. “We’re not done with you. We’re around every corner.”
As he crashed away through the brush, Lindsey sobbed. Who are you?
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