paranoid about her tail, so she made several turnoffs to determine if she really was being followed. Her every move was closely mirrored. When she slowed to make the pickup pass her, it slowed almost to a halt. Now she was ninety-eight percent sure it was him. The last thing she could do was go home... why had she taken a chance and not waited for Rayne?
She forced herself to think. Rayne would call her as soon as he checked his messages. She couldn't drive around for hours to avoid her pursuer, and what if he got desperate and tried to ram her or something? Who knew how nuts he was? What she needed was a safe place to go before things got any worse. Maybe she'd pass a police cruiser and could flag it down.
None of this was much help. She needed to do something now. Her hand tightened around the cell phone in her lap and she punched in 911, explained her near-certainty that the guy the cops had reported leaving the ballpark in a dark blue pickup was following her. The dispatcher gave her directions to the nearest police station and advised her to drive there immediately. She made the first turn, checking her mirrors. Sure enough, there was the blue pickup a few cars behind her.
She stepped on the gas, racing through a yellow light. Her shadow ran the red light, swerving to miss the oncoming traffic, racing to catch her. When he pulled in behind her, she memorized the license plate and the few identification details she could see in the glare of headlights. She clutched the steering wheel with shaky, clammy hands, heart slamming in her chest, and hit the accelerator, dodging slower traffic left and right. She couldn't make it to the police station— she needed help now. When the pickup was still with her at the next light she cut into a gas station, took a deep breath and jumped out, making a run for it inside. He wouldn't be insane enough to chase after her in front of everyone, would he?
The attendant eyed her suspiciously when she asked him if he could see a blue pickup. “Yeah, right there out front.”
“Can you see the driver?” Her voice shook.
“Sort of.”
She swallowed. “Can you tell me if it's a man or a woman and what color hair they have?”
He squinted out the window. “A man, with light-colored hair, I think.”
She called 911 again and told them where she was. Then she called Rayne, praying he would pick up this time. He answered after two rings.
“Hey kiddo, I just got your message— ”
“He's following me.”
“What? Where the hell are you?”
“At a gas station. I've called the cops. He tailed me from the park.”
“You left the park on your own, after he was there? Jesus, Christa, I told you not to— ”
“I know!” she snapped, nerves stretched to the breaking point. “I thought I'd be safe enough until you could meet up with me, but I guess your briefing took longer than expected.” If she sounded shaky and a little accusatory, well, she couldn't help it.
“I'm coming to get you,” he said, his voice taut. “Just stay there. Can he see you?”
“Yes.”
“Does he know you're onto him?”
She gnawed on her lower lip. “Probably, by now. But I didn't actually see him . The gas station attendant said it was a man with light-colored hair.” It didn't make any sense, now that she thought about it. Wouldn't he have dyed his hair, grown a beard, developed a sudden myopia that required corrective lenses to disguise his appearance?
She forced herself to turn around and the second her eyes lit on the pickup, it peeled out of the forecourt. “He took off,” she said, hand pressed over her pounding heart.
“Did you get a license plate?” She gave him the details she had noted, and her location. “Good girl. I'll be right there.”
She waited anxiously inside until the cops arrived and felt like an idiot when she had to admit that her stalker had vanished, although the attendant was able to confirm seeing a dark blue pickup entering the gas station immediately after
She forced herself to think. Rayne would call her as soon as he checked his messages. She couldn't drive around for hours to avoid her pursuer, and what if he got desperate and tried to ram her or something? Who knew how nuts he was? What she needed was a safe place to go before things got any worse. Maybe she'd pass a police cruiser and could flag it down.
None of this was much help. She needed to do something now. Her hand tightened around the cell phone in her lap and she punched in 911, explained her near-certainty that the guy the cops had reported leaving the ballpark in a dark blue pickup was following her. The dispatcher gave her directions to the nearest police station and advised her to drive there immediately. She made the first turn, checking her mirrors. Sure enough, there was the blue pickup a few cars behind her.
She stepped on the gas, racing through a yellow light. Her shadow ran the red light, swerving to miss the oncoming traffic, racing to catch her. When he pulled in behind her, she memorized the license plate and the few identification details she could see in the glare of headlights. She clutched the steering wheel with shaky, clammy hands, heart slamming in her chest, and hit the accelerator, dodging slower traffic left and right. She couldn't make it to the police station— she needed help now. When the pickup was still with her at the next light she cut into a gas station, took a deep breath and jumped out, making a run for it inside. He wouldn't be insane enough to chase after her in front of everyone, would he?
The attendant eyed her suspiciously when she asked him if he could see a blue pickup. “Yeah, right there out front.”
“Can you see the driver?” Her voice shook.
“Sort of.”
She swallowed. “Can you tell me if it's a man or a woman and what color hair they have?”
He squinted out the window. “A man, with light-colored hair, I think.”
She called 911 again and told them where she was. Then she called Rayne, praying he would pick up this time. He answered after two rings.
“Hey kiddo, I just got your message— ”
“He's following me.”
“What? Where the hell are you?”
“At a gas station. I've called the cops. He tailed me from the park.”
“You left the park on your own, after he was there? Jesus, Christa, I told you not to— ”
“I know!” she snapped, nerves stretched to the breaking point. “I thought I'd be safe enough until you could meet up with me, but I guess your briefing took longer than expected.” If she sounded shaky and a little accusatory, well, she couldn't help it.
“I'm coming to get you,” he said, his voice taut. “Just stay there. Can he see you?”
“Yes.”
“Does he know you're onto him?”
She gnawed on her lower lip. “Probably, by now. But I didn't actually see him . The gas station attendant said it was a man with light-colored hair.” It didn't make any sense, now that she thought about it. Wouldn't he have dyed his hair, grown a beard, developed a sudden myopia that required corrective lenses to disguise his appearance?
She forced herself to turn around and the second her eyes lit on the pickup, it peeled out of the forecourt. “He took off,” she said, hand pressed over her pounding heart.
“Did you get a license plate?” She gave him the details she had noted, and her location. “Good girl. I'll be right there.”
She waited anxiously inside until the cops arrived and felt like an idiot when she had to admit that her stalker had vanished, although the attendant was able to confirm seeing a dark blue pickup entering the gas station immediately after
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