First Girl Gone(33)

“Damn,” Charlie said. Another dead end. “Thanks, Zoe.”

“It’s cool. You owe me.”

As if on cue, the driver of the Escalade gunned it as soon as Charlie ended the call. The dark vehicle took off like a rocket. Faster than before.

“Well, well, well,” Allie said. “Perhaps the post-boob haze of the Red Velvet Lounge finally cleared, and it dawned on this guy that you’ve been following him for the last thirty minutes.”

Charlie gripped the wheel tighter with both hands now as she gave chase.





Chapter Twenty-One





The SUV fishtailed as it veered right onto a dirt road, its attempt to dart away from her thwarted some by the skid. Charlie braked hard and then followed, heading deeper into the woods. Her heart hammered in her chest as the sound of the tires changed from the hum of asphalt to the grit of dirt flecked with gravel.

Clouds of dust billowed up from the rear of the vehicle in front of her like tan smoke flitting through her high beams. She needed to stay right on his bumper just to see him through the murk.

The trees flicked by faster and faster as they picked up speed again. She watched the speedometer creep up to seventy, then eighty, then ninety, turning that flicker of woods into a black blur on the sides of the road, the individual trees now indistinguishable.

The potholes throttled both cars, jamming them with more and more force as they accelerated. Charlie felt like she was getting tossed around on the back of a mechanical bull or something, her head going a little light. She pulled herself upright, holding her abs rigid to absorb the shock as much as she could.

The Escalade bounced hard to the left and then the right. The driver looked out of his depth, speeding down this kind of road—anyone would, really. She remembered how young he’d looked—those spindly arms and legs sprouting out of the long, slender torso.

Charlie focused on nothing but the SUV for the next couple of miles. Her pulse pounded, and her hands felt sweaty on the wheel. But she stayed on him.

When she finally looked down and saw the orange needle quivering at ninety-five miles per hour, she thought about giving up. One mistake at this speed could be fatal—even things she couldn’t control, like deer, were potential threats on her life. She eased up on the gas pedal.

“Don’t you even think about it,” Allie said.

“What?”

“Giving up now? This dirtbag clearly knows something about Kara, probably has information that could lead us to her right now. Tonight.”

She hesitated another second, the Escalade pulling away, the No Fat Chix decal growing blurry in the swirling, brown fog. Then she jammed the pedal again, felt the car stand up taller as it lurched forward with gusto. She started making up ground right away.

They hit an especially bumpy stretch—the road here washed out into grooves, rutted like a giant washboard made of packed sand. Both vehicles bobbed up and down, each timed to the opposite of the other.

THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

Charlie jostled in and out of her seat. Wrestled to keep a hold on the wheel. It felt for all the world like something had to give, something had to break. This couldn’t go on for long.

And then the SUV careened, suddenly out of control. It juddered to the left, the rear end lurching behind the rest of the vehicle. Charlie could see the moment the driver overcorrected and jerked the wheel to the right.

The Escalade pitched into a hard-right turn and launched off the road. There was a terrible crunch as it slammed into a tree. The vehicle halted with sickening abruptness, its front end wrapped around the trunk.

It sat motionless for a split second. Still. And then black smoke fluttered up from the wounded front end, visible in the wedge of night still lit by the crooked headlights.





Chapter Twenty-Two





Charlie slammed on the brakes, skidding just past the wreck. In the rearview mirror, everything behind her car glowed red from the brake lights.

She held still for a second, craned her neck to get a better look. The world seemed impossibly quiet now, impossibly calm after all that rushing momentum. It made her skin crawl.

Nothing moved in the shadowy place behind the vehicle’s windows. In fact, she could see nothing at all there—the glass looked utterly black just now. Inky like the bottom of the sea.

She swallowed. Felt the lump shift in her throat.

“Go on,” Allie said just above a whisper.

Charlie threw the car into reverse and backed up, pulling off to the side of the road just behind the half-smashed vehicle.

Again, she hesitated. Waited. Watched. Still no movement.

Finally, she scooped her phone out of the cup holder, never breaking her stare from the Escalade, eyes opened wide. She’d call it in. Then she’d take a look for herself.

She gave the 911 dispatcher the closest crossroad that she remembered, mind never fully straying into the reality of the phone call, instead staying in the moment with the SUV. The dispatcher asked her to stay on the line, but she hung up without really thinking about it. Couldn’t handle the distraction any longer.

She licked her lips. Tried to see anything at all beyond the thick black occupying the windows.

Her hand fumbled under the wheel and flipped the brights on, lighting up the inside of the SUV at last. The silhouette of the man inside was motionless, stark black against the white of the inflated airbag. His head cocked funny against the headrest, lolling off to one side. Probably knocked out, she thought.