The Silence (Columbia River #2)(57)

Faintly she heard Zander ask if she was okay. But her focus was locked on Mason’s eyes. She continued to inhale and exhale, concentrating on the physical sensation in her lungs. She repeated each breath to a count of four in her mind. The panic eased.

“I’m all right.”

“You will be in a few more seconds.”

Exhaustion suddenly swamped her, and he pulled her close again. She pressed her face against his shirt; he smelled of heat and male skin. Soothing and comforting.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “Stupid.”

“Trust me. You aren’t the only one having that experience right now.”

She looked up. Sweat beaded his temples. It was hot. But not that hot. She wrapped her arms around his waist. Ignoring himself to help me.

The man was a rock.

Her rock.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Anytime.”





22

Mason could barely keep his eyes open as he turned onto his street. He’d left the memorial service before Ava, who was still talking with Emily, and she had promised she’d leave for home soon. He was waiting for a car to pass so he could turn into his driveway when taillights farther down his street caught his attention. The car had just pulled away from the curb, and its distinctive taillight shapes jolted him awake.

Three vertical rectangles on each side.

He’d grown up envying the people who drove the cars with the characteristic red pattern.

A Mustang.

He immediately pressed the accelerator, passing his home.

It’s nothing. A coincidence. There are probably dozens in the area.

He swore at himself as he unsuccessfully tried to recall part of Shawn Braswell’s license plate. He dialed Nora.

“What’s wrong?” she asked sharply in lieu of hello.

“Nothing. I need the plate number for Braswell’s Mustang.”

“You’ve got one?”

“I’m following one that was parked on my street.”

“It’s silver?”

“It’s a light color. I can’t tell exactly in the dark.”

“Hang on a second while I check.”

The car took a left, and Mason continued to follow. He pulled closer for a few seconds, squinting at the plate. He rattled off the number to Nora and put more distance between the two vehicles.

“That doesn’t match,” she said.

Disappointment filled him. I knew it. “Wait,” he said. “There were stolen plates on the vehicle Ava saw. Run the plate I just gave you.”

“Hang on again.”

The Mustang turned again. He’s heading toward the freeway. The freeway entrance was still two turns away, but Mason felt it in his gut.

“That plate belongs to a Prius.” Controlled excitement filled Nora’s voice.

“It’s definitely not a Prius.”

Mason gave her the car’s location and direction and asked her to call it in as he stayed on the line with her. He could make the call, but he wanted his complete focus on keeping track of the vehicle. The Mustang stopped at a red light, and Mason idled behind him, unable to see the driver.

Stay casual.

He wished he weren’t driving his big truck. It had a powerful engine but lacked agility. Mason leaned to the left, trying to see the driver in the Mustang’s side-view mirror. It was too dark. The light turned green, and the Mustang’s tires spun as the car shot away.

“Shit!”

Mason floored the gas pedal and the truck’s tires squealed. His pulse pounded in his head.

“What happened?” Nora asked.

“I think I’ve been made. He’s still heading east but now going at least twice the speed limit.” Mason was thankful the city streets were relatively deserted at the late hour, but that also meant the driver might be more reckless.

The driver turned sharply at the next right, his back end sliding far into the oncoming lane. Mason relayed the turn to Nora. “He’s going to kill someone if he’s not careful.” Mason slowed down his big truck to take the same turn, his hands tight on the steering wheel. The taillights of the Mustang were much farther ahead than he’d expected. The lights vanished, but he still saw the silver car from the streetlights.

Mason accelerated again, his big engine roaring. “He turned off his lights. Where the fuck is patrol?”

“They’ve been notified . . . They’re running a skeleton crew tonight because of the memorial service.”

“He must have known we’d go to the service,” Mason muttered. Why was he on my street? A chill went up his spine. “Dammit! Call Ava. Tell her not to enter the house. Get a couple officers over there to clear it first.”

“On it.”

Did he get inside our house? Their security system was top-notch. Mason should have received phone notifications if someone had entered. But he knew nothing was infallible.

“Shawn Braswell must have killed his brother,” he told Nora. “That’s the only explanation. Why else would he have stolen plates and be on my street?”

“And take off when he spotted you.”

Mason was pushing seventy in a business area, and he wasn’t getting any closer to the Mustang. “He’s got to be headed toward the freeway.”