She Can Hide (She Can #4)(83)

Away from the sirens, he decided, and turned right. The mixed precipitation had turned to 100 percent freezing rain. The visibility was as shitty as the traction. The road surface was black and slick as an oil patch. Ethan could feel the ice slide under the tires, but he pushed the car anyway.

They couldn’t have gotten far.

A blue spot in the distance gave him hope. He accelerated.

Please, let her not be dead.

Ethan drew closer. An SUV. Not Abby.

Where was she?




Once Abby had put a few miles between Joe and the people she loved, fear for her own safety gathered fresh in her throat. She was alone with a killer, a man who’d already tried to kill her twice.

“Slow down.” Joe pointed to an intersection ahead. “Turn left up there.”

“Why do you want to kill me?” Abby glanced over.

“You don’t get to ask the questions.” Joe slid the knife into a sheath at his belt and rested the gun casually across his thigh. The muzzle wasn’t pointed at her. What were her options? “This time I’m making sure you are a hundred percent dead. A bullet won’t look like an accident, but it’s fast and efficient. I followed you until you pulled over, then waited for you to pass out. I drove your car to the creek. You were out cold when I pushed your car into the water. I had to hike two miles back to my vehicle in that fucking sleet storm. There’s no way you should have been able to escape. I put enough juice in your bottle to put you under for hours.”

“I saved half for after my run.”

“Well, fuck me. I didn’t think of that.” Joe scratched his chin. “You escaped my chemical bombs too. No matter. No screwing around this time.”

“What if I pay you to not kill me?” she asked.

“There are some people you don’t turn on. What you’re going to do right now is shut the fuck up. I got you. No more lucking out for you. I’m going to do this once and for all.” Joe sounded relaxed and confident. Since they’d turned off the main road a few miles back, he’d stopped looking through the back window every ten seconds.

There went that idea. Back to finding a way to escape. She could crash the car. But Joe was wearing his seat belt. She wasn’t. Driving into a tree would likely be worse for her than him. Slamming on the brakes wouldn’t work on the icy road.

“Make a left,” he said.

Abby turned. The truck fishtailed, but she straightened it out. A mile later, the road curved to the right. Just ahead, the Packman Creek bubbled on the other side of a narrow strip of grass. She’d woken up in the creek just a couple of miles downstream from here. Abby eased through the next turn with more care. She did not want to end up in the creek again.

Or did she?

She shivered at the memory of being submerged in the frigid water. She might not get so lucky a second time. Drowning was a definite possibility. But could anything be worse than whatever Joe had in mind? If she went to their final, private destination, she was facing a bullet to the head.

Joe sat up and started scanning the area with a critical eye. Was he looking for a place to kill her and dump her body? His fingers twitched on the gun. He checked the load. “Pull over here.”

His gun was in his hand. Hers was at her back. Could she get it out while climbing out of the car before Joe shot her? Doubtful.

Her gaze slipped to the churning creek. A slim possibility of escape was better than none at all.

She jerked the wheel. The car skidded on an angle toward the bank of the creek. A bump sent her flopping over the steering wheel.

“What the fuck?” Joe dropped his gun and grabbed for the armrest. The truck bounced and bumped down the snowy bank and hit the water harder than Abby anticipated. The airbag exploded in her face. Her left arm buckled. Pain snapped through her elbow like a bolt of electricity.

Next to her, Joe coughed. “Shit. You stupid bitch.”

Dust hovered in the moist air. He turned in his seat and punched her in the face. Pain burst through her cheekbone. She blinked at the blackness creeping across her visual field. Passing out meant death.

Water chilled Abby’s ankles. Joe opened his window and released his seat belt. He bent double, sticking his hand in the eight inches of water on the floorboards and feeling around. He sat up and shook water from the barrel of his gun.

Abby’s heart seized. This time, she wouldn’t escape death.

The car rocked hard, and Joe fell sideways. Metal groaned.

“Fuck it.” He hoisted himself up on the edge of the window, slid out, and fell backward with a splash.

Abby pushed at the button on her door. Nothing happened. She tried again, but the window didn’t budge. The wires must have shorted out.

She scooted across the bench seat. A white-hot wave of pain shot up her left arm. She looked down. Nausea rolled through her. Her elbow was not supposed to bend in that direction. The creek lapped over her knees and froze her thighs.

Abby’s vision tunneled. The pickup spun, the force of the current dragging the truck farther toward the center of the creek. The cab tilted, and gravity pulled Abby away from the open window. Water closed over her head and stole her breath.





CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Ethan stopped the car and K-turned to reverse his direction. With only a couple of minutes lead time, there was no way Abby and Joe had gotten any farther ahead. Ethan had pushed the Marquis to a crazy speed on the icy road.