Almost Dead (Lizzy Gardner #5)(38)

He dug deep into his front pants pocket and pulled out a key. “Want to take this baby for a ride?”

“Boy, do I.”

After they both latched their seatbelts, she turned on the engine and headed out to the main street, making a right on Sunrise and a left onto Eureka Road. “Am I allowed to take the car onto the highway?”

“Absolutely. Anything you want to do.”

She stopped at the light. So far, so good. “So how’s the car business these days?”

“I can’t complain.”

“Are you married?”

He laughed. “Are you flirting with me?”

“No,” she said, trying her best to look bashful. “I was just curious.”

“I was married once. No children,” he said. “That woman put me through hell. She’s still trying to get every dime out of me.”

Jenny listened to him ramble on. She knew all about his failed marriage and acrimonious divorce, which was why she knew the cops would go straight to his ex-wife after they found him.

“I’m only thirty,” he said. “I plan to keep my options open.”

The light turned green, and she hit the gas a little too hard. “Oops, sorry about that.”

Quit fooling around. You’re never going to pull this stunt off.

Jennings settled back in the leather seat, appeared at ease. With his tight pants, wrinkled shirt, and ugly tie with a food stain front and center, not to mention his slicked-back hair, she knew he’d be single for a while.

“What do you think about financing?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Are you looking for a larger monthly payment over a shorter duration of time or—”

“Cash,” she said.

“OK, now we’re talkin’. This baby isn’t cheap, you know?”

“That’s all right, Mr. Jennings, I’ve worked hard my entire life. I deserve a nice car.”

“Well, good for you.”

She didn’t want him asking questions about her work, so she asked him about himself, and for the next ten minutes he talked and she drove.

She merged onto Interstate 80 and then cut over and headed toward Marysville on 65. She stayed at the legal speed limit all the way to the Blue Oaks exit. She was well on her way to a seldom used two-lane road where teenagers sometimes gathered on the weekends to drag race when he finally stopped talking long enough to realize that something might be a little off.

“Where are we headed?”

“You said I could go anywhere I wanted, so I thought I’d take us on a little joyride in the dirt, see if this car is as good as you say it is.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, toots.”

“‘Toots’? Do you call all of your female customers toots?”

“Just the cute ones.”

She turned onto the dirt road and pushed down on the gas pedal, bringing the speedometer to seventy. “Tell me, Ron. Do you still pinch and pull hair like you used to?”

“What?” One of his hands was clamped on to the grab-handle above the window. He cleared his throat. “Of course not. What are you talking about?”

“You’re a liar.” She sped up. The speedometer read eighty and then eighty-five—way too fast for the road. The SUV was swimming a bit over the dirt. It was exhilarating.

The bend in the road wasn’t too far off now.

He let go of the grab-handle and placed both hands on the dashboard instead. “You need to slow down, ma’am. This isn’t safe or legal.”

When she failed to do as he said, he lunged for the steering wheel.

Jenny grabbed a sharpened pencil from her jacket pocket and stabbed his arm—once, twice, three times until he finally retreated.

Blood dripped from his arm. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

She kept her eyes on the road. “Nothing more than you did to me in high school.” She dropped the pencil. “How does it feel? Not too good, right?” Keeping her eyes on the road, she blindly reached for him and pinched him as hard as she could.

He shouted an obscenity as he yanked his arm back where she couldn’t get to him. “Who are you?”

“Someone you messed with one too many times.”

“You’re crazy!”

The speedometer read ninety. The dirt road was long and straight with a gradual uphill grade. Finally, straight ahead, was the 60-degree bend she was waiting for.

“Slow down!”

As the SUV lifted into the air over the peak, just before a bare dirt bank with a stand of trees in the background, she reached over with her right hand and unclasped his seatbelt.

His hands were all over the place as he tried to connect the belt. But it was too late. Instead of turning the wheel, she slammed hard on the brakes. She knew the air bag was supposed to be activated by accelerometers, not by making contact.

BAM!

The air bag on the driver’s side shoved her back with tremendous force. For two seconds, Jenny wondered if she’d broken her neck. Disoriented, she reached for the door handle. A strong acrid smell and a fine white mist floated around her.

She sat quietly for a moment.

Before climbing out of the car, she looked over at the passenger seat. The top part of Ron’s head had gone through the window. From the looks of it, a jagged piece of glass had taken off the top of his head upon impact. She could see more than just his skull. After the collision, she’d planned on giving him a shot of cyanide to make sure he didn’t survive, but there was certainly no need for that now.