As she eyed the boxes, she registered movement in her peripheral vision and she turned. A man was crossing the street toward her, moving fast. There was a split second when she wasn’t sure how to react. This was a safe place; in this neighborhood, she’d never so much as heard of a burglary or a domestic dispute that had gotten out of hand, and she’d never been afraid. She was only yards from her parents’ front door, on a street so safe she used to camp out in the backyard on warm summer nights. And yet, the stranger’s purposeful gait made the hairs on the back of her neck suddenly rise because she knew instinctively that whoever it was didn’t belong here.
Darkness made clear recognition impossible, but in that instant the man’s shadowed face was suddenly illuminated by the lights that spilled from her parents’ living room. She saw a glint of metal in his hand and with the sight of the gun, fear took hold. She couldn’t move and could barely breathe; only vaguely did she hear Colin say her name on the phone.
Colin repeated her name a second and third time, his mounting concern enough to finally bring her back.
“He’s here,” she finally whispered.
“Who’s there?” Colin demanded. “What’s going on?”
“He has a gun,” she said.
“Who has a gun?”
“Lester Manning,” she said. “He’s here at the house.”
CHAPTER 23
Colin
T
he shock of hearing Maria say Lester’s name gave way to a surge of adrenaline, the fight-or-flight reflex kicking in. Colin vaguely heard Lester shout something and the call was disconnected.
Lester.
By then, Colin was already on the move, bursting from the back room and rushing past the bar. He wove around tables and guests even as he hit the redial button.
The phone went straight to voice mail.
Redial.
Voice mail again.
Maria is in trouble.
Behind him, he heard the bartender call his name; waitresses looked over in confusion, and as Colin exploded out the entrance, the manager demanded to know where he was going.
Lester has a gun.
Colin raced around the corner of the building, his feet slipping on the lightly sanded sidewalk. Regaining his footing, he sprinted up the street, already calculating the most direct route to Maria’s parents’ place.
Hoping the roads were clear.
Hoping his car would start.
Please, let it start.
He’d call the police from the car.
He swerved around an elderly couple and rocketed into the street, his car in sight.
Precious seconds ticking away.
Lester could have already shoved her into his car and driven off, just like Gerald Laws did to Cassie…
It was twenty minutes to her parents’.
He would make it in ten. Or fewer.
Maria might already be gone…
At the car now. Jumping in, jamming his keys in the ignition, careful not to flood the engine even as he turned the key hard, and the old Camaro roared to life. Colin peeled away from the curb, his eyes already on the cars ahead.
Closing the gap between his car and those ahead of him, he glanced toward his phone. With one hand he frantically dialed 911 and heard the operator ask the nature of the emergency.
A man with a gun, threatening a woman, he said. Maria Sanchez. A guy named Lester Manning had been stalking her, and he’d surprised her at her parents’…
He couldn’t remember the address offhand, but told the operator Maria’s parents’ names, as well as the street and cross street. Identifying himself, he stated that he was on the way. When the operator urged him to let the police handle the situation without interference, he hung up.
By then he was speeding along, the nose of his car practically on the bumper of the car in front of him. With the next lane blocked by a black Range Rover coasting along at the speed limit, Colin cut across the breakdown lane and zoomed past a cluster of cars before veering back onto the road. He hit the accelerator hard and within a few seconds came up on a pickup truck and a white minivan driving side by side. He passed them in the breakdown lane, too, this time barely slowing.
Reaching the turnoff to the bridge, he jerked the wheel hard, tires squealing.
Racing past more cars in the breakdown lane, he finally made it to a long stretch of road with less traffic and jammed the accelerator to the floor. Adrenaline sharpened his instincts behind the wheel, his body responding in perfect sync with the car.