Stone Cold Heart (Tracers #13)(55)

The road curved right again. And again he picked up speed. He’d noticed her. Why else would he speed up?

And why would he speed up at all, unless he had something to hide right now, something incriminating?

Another call. She snatched up the phone.

“What?”

“I’ve got a unit heading your way, so you can pull over.”

She put the call on speaker and dropped the phone into the cupholder.

“If I do that, I’ll lose him. He just sped up, and I think he’s trying to shake me.”

“Jesus, Sara.”

The road curved left, and Sara tapped the brakes. After another curve, she reached a straightaway.

“Damn, where’d he go?”

The road ahead of her was empty.

“He turned off somewhere, Nolan. Damn it, he ditched me! How’s that for suspicious? He has to be hiding something.”

Sara pressed the accelerator, but the nearest car was a blue sedan several hundred yards ahead.

“Give me your exact location,” Nolan said.

“About half a mile west of Stony Creek Park, maybe more. You know, his license plate was all smeared with dirt. I couldn’t even get a digit.”

“Was it a Texas plate?”

“I think so, yeah. But I can’t be sure. I really couldn’t see.”

“Okay, Crowley’s on his way.”

Sara glanced in the rearview mirror. Her heart jumped into her throat at the sight of a white Tahoe.

“He can get your statement and—”

“He’s back.”

“What?”

Her chest squeezed. “He’s behind me, Nolan. Right now. He’s speeding up.”

“You’re sure it’s the same vehicle?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, slow down. See if he passes. Maybe you ticked him off, and he’s messing with you.”

Sara moved the camera to the seat beside her. She took her foot off the gas, trying to keep an eye on him and on the road at the same time. Her heart hammered as the big silver grille moved right behind her.

“He’s not passing me.”

“Shit. Okay, listen. He’s probably just trying to intimidate you.”

“It’s working.” Sara gripped the wheel, watching the reflection in her mirror. He had a cap pulled low over his face, casting a shadow, but she could see his hands on the steering wheel.

“He’s Caucasian, and he’s wearing a blue ball cap,” she said. “That’s about all I can tell.”

“The sheriff’s office is about six miles away. When you reach Tillman Road, you’re going to take a right turn.”

A sign ahead indicated an S-curve coming soon. She looked around, panicked. She was going too fast, but she didn’t want to brake and get rear-ended.

“Sara?”

He was right on her bumper now. She nudged up her speed, but then the road curved, and she gripped the wheel.

“I have to slow down,” she said, taking her foot off the gas. The road made another bend, and she struggled to keep control.

Boom!

Sara’s head snapped forward. She careened onto the shoulder. Her stomach clenched as the tires hit gravel, and then she was spinning, spinning, spinning—a blur of trees and sky and rock. She gripped the wheel, and her stomach did a free fall. She glanced at the rearview mirror as she sailed backward into a wall of trees.





CHAPTER 17


Sara’s neck hurt. Her chest hurt. She blinked her eyes open, and everything was gray and blurry.

She struggled to breathe and reached for the door handle. Pain zinged up her side.

Seat belt.

She jabbed the button with her thumb, again and again, until finally it released. She reached for the handle again, less surprised by the jolt of pain this time as she struggled to push open the door.

Sky.

But it was dimmer than she remembered. How long had she been out? Had she been out?

Grabbing onto the door, she leaned forward and managed to lever herself out, yelping when her shin met with something sharp. A splintered tree branch jutted up from the ground. The entire limb had been shorn off.

Had she done that? She glanced around. Her Explorer had plowed through some small trees, it looked like, before landing backward in a ditch at the base of a rock wall. She was probably lucky the trees had cushioned her fall, or the impact would have been worse.

Sara’s foot snagged on something, and she stumbled, catching herself on the trunk of a tree. The light was gray and hazy. Or maybe her brain was hazy. She felt nauseated. Disoriented.

The rumble of an engine snapped her to attention, and she whirled around. A truck. The roar got louder and louder, until it was right on top of her. She flattened herself against her Explorer as the truck barreled past in a cloud of dust and exhaust.

Sara bent over, coughing and gasping, trying to catch her breath. Her gaze fell on a tear in her black yoga pants. Blood oozed out, trickling down her leg.

Another engine approaching—this time from the other direction. Why hadn’t anyone stopped? Glancing around, she saw that the front of her Explorer was mostly concealed by foliage. She ducked around limbs to check out the back. The bumper and side panel were crumpled, and one of her taillights was broken.

Images flashed through her brain. The curve in the road, the spin, the trees coming at her.