The motorcycle suddenly grew louder, and I checked my mirrors, only swerving a little at the distraction. He pulled out from behind me as if to pass but, instead, stayed next to me. I spared a quick glance at him. He rode with his visor up so I could see his troubled eyes.
He pointed to a spot in front of us—a small combination used car lot, junkyard, and farm implement supplier—and motioned for me to pull over. I nodded, fumbled for the blinker, and braked firmly. Thankfully, I’d pressed the correct pedal. I turned onto the gravel driveway still going a bit too fast, and my tires slid over the gravel for a few feet, making my backend swerve. I barely managed to pull to the side and park.
Heart racing from the wild turn, I put my head back against the headrest, closed my eyes, and willed myself to stop shaking. The boys remained mute behind me. I knew I needed to reassure them, not just about my driving but also about our future. I didn’t know what I could say that wouldn’t end up as a lie. Would everything be okay? David had found us, they could follow our vehicle, and I appeared to be listening to a complete stranger. No, I had nothing.
A knock on my window made me jump. The man stood next to my door, his motorcycle already parked behind him. He eyed me with concern. I hadn’t even noticed the roar of his engine die. This close I could distinguish the deep blue of his eyes from his pupils. I cautiously rolled down the window a few inches.
“You were starting to swerve,” he said quietly, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “How long since you last slept?”
I didn’t want to admit that the swerving was just the way I drove. I considered his question. About thirty-three hours if I counted the very short nap I’d taken while stopped at a stop sign until someone had honked at me. I knew people could survive a heck of a lot longer than that without sleeping. I wasn’t sure I could go much longer, though.
“It’s been a while.” My voice came out scratchy.
“That man, David, hinted this was how he followed you,” he said gesturing to the car.
It took me a moment to catch up with his thinking, and I understood why he’d wanted me to pull over here specifically. I needed a different car.
I looked at the single small building on the property. A man stood just outside the door, watching us. When the man noticed my attention, he started walking toward us. My stomach flipped and not in a good way. I had no idea what I was doing.
“Come on, guys. Let’s unbuckle and get out. Stay close,” I said unnecessarily. The man backed up so I could open my door. He glanced at the salesman then turned his attention back to us...me.
I really needed to ask his name, but the salesman wasted no time closing the distance between us.
“Howdy, folks. What can I do for you?”
“I need a different car,” I said while Aden climbed out and moved close to me. Liam already stood at my side. I gently ran my fingers through their hair, trying to give them what comfort I could without being obvious about it.
“A trade?” the salesman said. I nodded, and he looked thoughtful. “To be honest, your car is probably worth two of any of the cars I have.”
I glanced at my mother’s car. The bright red paint sparkled in the afternoon sun. I didn’t know a thing about cars, but even four years old, it still looked new. Part of me wanted to cry at the thought of leaving it behind. I had nothing else of hers. When we’d run, we’d run fast, just as Richard had said. I hadn’t even grabbed any clothes.
“It’s okay,” I lied. “The insurance on this thing is too much for me. I need something worth a little less to bring down the premiums.” Not bad for someone using the few cells still awake in her brain. Even locked away as long as I’d been, I wasn’t completely clueless. Blake often rewarded good premonitions with simple things like magazines and books.
We trailed behind the dealer as he moved through the collection of vehicles on his tiny lot. He showed us a dark blue truck flecked with bits of rust. It had dual gas tanks, but I would probably only get half the mileage I’d been getting. Not that it mattered. I still had a good chunk of Richard’s cash.
“I’ll take it,” I said firmly. The motorcycle man looked a little surprised that I’d agreed right away. I didn’t care about fair deals. I just wanted to keep moving.
“Come inside, and we’ll sign the papers. Do you have the title with you?”
It took me a moment to process his request. Title. Paperwork from Richard. Glovebox.
“Yes, I think so. Let me go get it.”
“I’ll get it for you and move your things,” the man said from behind me, making me glad he hadn’t left yet. My thoughts didn’t flow as quickly as they should.
The boys and I walked to the office building with the salesman. The motorcycle man joined us a few minutes later with the papers from the glovebox. It didn’t take us very long.