The Speed of Light: A Novel(4)

The shooter must be less than a foot away from the cabinet, because I can hear breathing—so chillingly normal, almost familiar. There is just another human being standing in the bathroom right now.

Another human being with a gun.

Seconds tick by. My body shakes, but somehow I remain silent. Images swirl through my mind—not the sequential life-flashing-before-your-eyes you read about, but my mom and dad playing cards at the kitchen table, my brother, Emmett, riding next to me on the merry-go-round when he was little.

A footstep scrapes—the shooter takes a step closer to the cabinet.

My arms wrap around myself, the only protection I have.

All is lost; I’m sure of it. My mind races, swirling like the snowflakes in the wind outside, the snow globe tipped and jostled violently. From the depths of my chaotic mind, one thought forces its way out—perhaps my last.

Connor, I’m sorry. I love you.





CHAPTER ONE

Christmas Eve, one year before

The snow swirls in the air, down through the jet-black sky, onto my windshield. As a kid I always thought driving through the mesmerizing white flakes made it seem like we were traveling at light speed, blasting through space like the Millennium Falcon.

Tonight, though, the snow doesn’t fool me. Mostly because I’m not moving at all.

“Come on, baby,” I purr to my old Honda. “Please?”

I turn the key again, but I’m met with the relentless half roar of an engine that refuses to revive. She growls at me over and over, like it’s causing her pain.

I give up, slam my hand on the steering wheel. “Merry freaking Christmas to you, too.”

I sigh—it’s not my car’s fault this happened. None of this is her fault. Not the tingle in my legs. Not my uncertain future.

I give the steering wheel a loving pat, then take out my phone. After three rings, I hear laughter and holiday music burst from the other side—the warmth and security of being surrounded by loved ones, not stranded on the side of the road.

“Hello?” There’s a smile in my mom’s voice, and it makes my frown deepen.

“Hey, Mom, it’s me.” I pause, close my eyes so I don’t have to look at the swirling snowstorm against the black sky outside my window. “I’m, uh . . . my car broke down.”

“Simone, honey, where are you?” The smile is gone.

“I’m still about thirty miles out.”

“On the highway?”

“Yeah.” My chuckle is bitter. “Well, on the side of it, technically.”

“Did you have an accident? I didn’t think the snow was supposed to be this bad!”

“No. I mean, yeah, the roads aren’t great.” I’d been white-knuckling it for about forty miles now, but she doesn’t need to know that. “But that’s not the problem. I don’t really know what’s going on with my car.” The truth is, my check-engine light has been turning on and off for the past few weeks, but I’ve been too busy to find out why—she doesn’t need to know that, either.

Mom tsks. “Simone, you need to get yourself a more reliable vehicle, especially if you insist on driving from Sioux Falls after dark.”

I don’t bother responding—I don’t need her paranoia right now. Mom’s already moved on anyway, her voice muffled as she covers the phone to speak to Dad. “Bob, her car broke down. Get your boots on and start up the truck.”

“No, Mom, don’t worry about it.” I clench my shaking fist, clutch the phone tighter in my other hand. “You made me get AAA, remember? I should probably use it.”

“Oh, honey, I hate the idea of you sitting out in the cold by yourself.” There’s a pause, and I know what’s coming, as if I can feel the concern forming in her mind. Mom has her own form of anxiety about my recent medical issues, worrying when I do anything on my own. But it’s only because she doesn’t understand what’s happening to me. And I can’t blame her, because neither do I, really.

I sigh. “I’m fine—sitting here in the warm car.” Laughter bursts out behind her. “Everybody’s already there. I don’t want anyone to come out in this weather. Go get dinner ready. I’ll be there soon.”

Mom pauses; then I hear her whisper to my dad before turning her attention back to me on the phone. “Okay, well, if you’re sure. But keep us updated about how long you’ll have to wait. Dad has his boots on. Just text and he’ll be there, okay?”

A typical parental offering, but it makes me extra thankful in this moment. “Okay.”

I end the call and dial AAA like the competent adult I am. “I’m about to ruin somebody else’s Christmas Eve,” I whisper into my ringing phone.

There’s a click and a woman picks up. “How may I help you?”

“Um, hi, I’m wondering if there’s any chance I can get a tow? I mean, I know it’s Christmas Eve and everything, but, um, my car broke down and—”

The woman cuts me off—a little no-nonsense tactic to combat my flustered babbling. “What’s your location, ma’am?”

“Uh, Highway 12, about thirty miles east of Aberdeen, South Dakota.”

“Mile marker?”

I blink out my window, squint, but there’s only darkness beyond the swirling snow. “I don’t see one. I’m sorry.”