Pursuit by Karen Robards Page A

dying friend at the Sisters of Mercy Hospital in Fredericksburg and . . .”
    Dear God.
    Closing her eyes, feeling like the world was tipping sideways and she was clinging on by her fingernails in an effort not to fall off, Jess hit the power button, hit it without even consciously making the decision to do so. It was as if her body, reacting in its own defense, just said no to exposure to anything else that might cause her distress. But even with her eyes closed, even with the voices from the television silenced and the screen gone black, it still felt like she was tumbling down into nothingness as images from the accident chased one another through her mind.

9
    S peeding through the night, going faster and faster until the rolling hills and dark pastures and a narrow fence line of tall trees outside the window became nothing more than a black blur and her heart was pumping with alarm, feeling a hard jolt that sent the car skidding sideways, the terrible squeal of brakes drowned out after a single terrified moment by screams . . .
    “Jess, are you all right?”
    Jess opened her eyes. She was drenched in sweat and drawing deep, shuddering breaths, and she realized from her mother’s expression that she was probably as pale as a piece of angel food cake.
    “She was said to be on her way to visit a dying friend at the Sisters of Mercy Hospital in Fredericksburg . . .” That’s what they’d said on TV.
    Only it was a lie. They were telling lies.
    Why?
    “Jess?”
    Frowning, Judy walked toward her carrying a blue plastic basin filled with water that sloshed softly with every step, a small unwrapped bar of soap, a blue washrag, and a matching towel.
    “Jessica Jane? Do you hear me talking to you?”
    It occurred to Jess that she was staring at her mother as if she had been poleaxed. She willed herself to focus.
    Think it through later. Shake it off.
    “Oh, sorry. I was just . . . I’m fine.”
    That is, other than the fact that she was dizzy and limp with dread. Which she didn’t mean to share with her mother. Which she didn’t even totally understand herself. Taking a not-too-deep breath, she fought to get her emotions under control, to seem like her normal self, so her mother wouldn’t guess that something was majorly wrong. She didn’t know why she felt this was so important, but she did.
    Dark figures rushing past her down the slope . . .
    Jess realized she was breathing way too fast.
    “You don’t look fine. You look worse than you did when you were unconscious, for pete’s sake.”
    “I have a little headache.”
    That was true, as far as it went. Also, her palms were sweaty. Her mouth was dry. Her pulse was racing. Disoriented, that’s how she felt. Almost as if she could see—no, she didn’t want to see.
    Who were the dark figures? Were they even real?
    She didn’t want to think about it. She didn’t want to know.
    Her mother’s frown deepened. She was looking at her hard.
    “Maybe I should call the nurse.”
    “No. No, don’t.”
    You can’t go there now. Snap out of it.
    Every instinct Jess possessed screamed that she had to keep her mother—keep her family, keep everyone—from knowing that her memory wasn’t totally wiped out where the crash was concerned after all. Instead, it was throwing up weird images like puzzle pieces that didn’t quite fit. No, make that terrifying images.
    Fire . . . It started as a tiny orange burst and then — boom! — it exploded, pillars of flame enveloping the car, shooting toward the ink-black sky. . . .
    Jess closed her eyes. She clenched her fists. She bit down hard on the tip of her tongue. The pain did what it was supposed to do—it cleared the hideous pictures from her mind.
    “Jess?”
    Jess opened her eyes. “It’s just a headache . . . I’m better now.”
    “It’s been a while since they last gave you anything for pain—maybe we ought to ask for something.”
    “It’s okay. It’s gone.”
    Her mother was still looking at her with