bleeding from a gunshot wound, his attacker standing over him smirking.
As she neared her house, she slowed and looked around the neighborhood. His car was nowhere to be seen. She parked in the driveway, checked all around the house, including the backyard. No Adam.
Should she stay here and wait for him to call? Logic told her that was wise, but her instincts cried out for her to do something . . . anything. She’d try the motel once more. Carrie shuddered as she drove, praying for safety for Adam . . . and for her. God, keep him safe until I can find him. And when I do, I won’t let him go again .
NINE
ADAM LOOKED AT HIS CELL PHONE, WONDERING IF HE SHOULD TRY to call Carrie again. Then he noticed that the display was dark. He’d let his battery run down. He hurried to the parking lot and found the sack with the box his phone had come in. The first charger he dug out was the one for his car. Fair enough. He needed to be doing something anyway. He plugged in his phone and set it on the seat next to him. Then he started his pickup and began to drive toward Carrie’s house.
In a few moments a tone from his cell phone got his attention. Someone was sending a text.
He pulled to the side of the road and looked at the phone. “Blocked Number” showed on the caller ID. He scanned the message and his mouth went dry. The words were typical texting, abbreviated but easily understood. He read them quickly at first, then again, more carefully. “DR MRKHM N ACCIDENT. N SRGRY NOW CENT HOSP. COME QUICK.”
He didn’t bother wondering who sent the message, what the circumstances were. Carrie had been in an accident and was in surgery at Centennial Hospital. He needed to get there quickly. Adam put the pickup in gear and sped through the night, leaning forward as though he could make the vehicle go faster by doing so.
Adam’s phone lay on the seat beside him. A beep made him look at the display. Missed calls. Voice mail. He ignored them. They were probably from the ER, someone with more details about Carrie’s condition. He didn’t want to take the time to answer. Besides, it might be bad news. And he couldn’t stand that right now.
The Rancho Motel was normally fifteen minutes away from Centennial Medical Center. Adam made it in nine. He skidded into the ER parking area and took the first open slot he found, one marked for “Patient Unloading.”
He threw the selector into park, turned the key, and paused to whisper, “Please, God. Please let her be all right. I’ll do anything—” He slammed the door of his vehicle and sprinted toward the ER’s sliding glass doors. Suddenly, to his left, bright lights flared and the engine of a powerful vehicle roared. He glanced in that direction just before a white sedan barreled toward him. Reflexes carried Adam, rolling, to his right and back. He stopped when he was tucked under the front bumper of a car. The vehicle sheltering him rocked and a loud noise assaulted his ears as the pursuing car grazed the front fender just inches away.
Either this was a trap, or someone was taking advantage of Carrie’s accident to catch him unaware. Adam rolled out and ran toward his pickup. At the end of the row, the whitesedan skidded into a turn, ready to come back for another try at him.
In his pickup, he started the engine and rammed the gearshift into reverse, burning rubber as he backed out of the parking space. Adam turned the wheel, slammed the selector into drive, and stomped hard on the accelerator. He didn’t take the time to fasten his seat belt. The sedan was right behind him now.
At the last minute, Adam slammed on the brakes and cut the steering wheel of the pickup sharply to the right. He skidded into one of the parking aisles, barely missing cars right and left. A glance in the rearview mirror showed a flash of white going down the main aisle he’d just vacated.
He had to get out of here. Where was the exit? Adam slowed and began turning randomly right, left, left
As she neared her house, she slowed and looked around the neighborhood. His car was nowhere to be seen. She parked in the driveway, checked all around the house, including the backyard. No Adam.
Should she stay here and wait for him to call? Logic told her that was wise, but her instincts cried out for her to do something . . . anything. She’d try the motel once more. Carrie shuddered as she drove, praying for safety for Adam . . . and for her. God, keep him safe until I can find him. And when I do, I won’t let him go again .
NINE
ADAM LOOKED AT HIS CELL PHONE, WONDERING IF HE SHOULD TRY to call Carrie again. Then he noticed that the display was dark. He’d let his battery run down. He hurried to the parking lot and found the sack with the box his phone had come in. The first charger he dug out was the one for his car. Fair enough. He needed to be doing something anyway. He plugged in his phone and set it on the seat next to him. Then he started his pickup and began to drive toward Carrie’s house.
In a few moments a tone from his cell phone got his attention. Someone was sending a text.
He pulled to the side of the road and looked at the phone. “Blocked Number” showed on the caller ID. He scanned the message and his mouth went dry. The words were typical texting, abbreviated but easily understood. He read them quickly at first, then again, more carefully. “DR MRKHM N ACCIDENT. N SRGRY NOW CENT HOSP. COME QUICK.”
He didn’t bother wondering who sent the message, what the circumstances were. Carrie had been in an accident and was in surgery at Centennial Hospital. He needed to get there quickly. Adam put the pickup in gear and sped through the night, leaning forward as though he could make the vehicle go faster by doing so.
Adam’s phone lay on the seat beside him. A beep made him look at the display. Missed calls. Voice mail. He ignored them. They were probably from the ER, someone with more details about Carrie’s condition. He didn’t want to take the time to answer. Besides, it might be bad news. And he couldn’t stand that right now.
The Rancho Motel was normally fifteen minutes away from Centennial Medical Center. Adam made it in nine. He skidded into the ER parking area and took the first open slot he found, one marked for “Patient Unloading.”
He threw the selector into park, turned the key, and paused to whisper, “Please, God. Please let her be all right. I’ll do anything—” He slammed the door of his vehicle and sprinted toward the ER’s sliding glass doors. Suddenly, to his left, bright lights flared and the engine of a powerful vehicle roared. He glanced in that direction just before a white sedan barreled toward him. Reflexes carried Adam, rolling, to his right and back. He stopped when he was tucked under the front bumper of a car. The vehicle sheltering him rocked and a loud noise assaulted his ears as the pursuing car grazed the front fender just inches away.
Either this was a trap, or someone was taking advantage of Carrie’s accident to catch him unaware. Adam rolled out and ran toward his pickup. At the end of the row, the whitesedan skidded into a turn, ready to come back for another try at him.
In his pickup, he started the engine and rammed the gearshift into reverse, burning rubber as he backed out of the parking space. Adam turned the wheel, slammed the selector into drive, and stomped hard on the accelerator. He didn’t take the time to fasten his seat belt. The sedan was right behind him now.
At the last minute, Adam slammed on the brakes and cut the steering wheel of the pickup sharply to the right. He skidded into one of the parking aisles, barely missing cars right and left. A glance in the rearview mirror showed a flash of white going down the main aisle he’d just vacated.
He had to get out of here. Where was the exit? Adam slowed and began turning randomly right, left, left
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