She took a corner and then a quick turn down a smaller road. Just four miles from her house, she longed to strip off her jeans and sweater, slip into a hot bath and then into her pajamas. She’d made a pot roast the other night and knew it would warm up well. A good night just to cocoon and forget about killers, loss, and sadness. She turned the radio up another notch.
This time when she looked, she realized the lights had drawn closer. Tightening her hands on the wheel, she sped up. The second car not only matched her speed but also increased until it was inches from her bumper.
“No way. No way.” She pressed her foot on the accelerator but her old Jeep wouldn’t move much faster. Cursing, she shoved her foot almost to the floor.
The second car could have hit her bumper but instead cut hard to the left and came along beside her. She glanced into the other car but only saw a dark hoodie. The driver held up a gloved middle finger and then cut his car hard to the right and smacked into the side of her vehicle.
Old training kicked into play. She kept her gaze ahead as she swerved into the other lane. Praying for no traffic, she hit the brakes and watched as the other car zoomed ahead. She quickly got back into the right lane and kept driving as she watched the car up ahead. Damn.
For a moment, the car lights grew distant and the brake lights tapped on. She immediately slowed and cursed the two-lane road that gave her nowhere to go. The brake lights clicked off and then reverse lights appeared. The driver was backing up and heading straight toward her.
Heart pounding in her chest, she spotted an easement on the side of the road that led toward a field. Gunning her engine, she drove toward the patch of dirt and whisked off the road seconds before the other car barrelled past her.
The Jeep’s undercarriage bumped and scraped against the field’s rocks and ruts, jostling her against the side door. Her shoulder hit hard. She gripped the steering wheel and jammed on the breaks. When it came to a stop, her thoughts jumbled into a mix of anger, adrenaline, and fear.
Jenna reached for her glove box where she kept her Glock. She unholstered it as she glanced back toward the road to see if the driver had returned. Heart beating in her throat, she searched for the car. Only when she was certain it was gone did she fumble for her phone and dial 9-1-1. Backup. She needed backup.
“Nine-one-one operator.”
Again old training came into play. Once a cop always a cop. She gave her location and a description of what just happened as she searched in her rearview mirror for signs of the second car. In the distance, the glow of headlights appeared.
“I’ll have someone out there immediately.”
The dispatcher’s even, measured tone fueled rather than calmed her jazzed nerves. “Have them hurry. I think he’s turned around and headed back for more.”
“Can you provide a description of the car?”
She focused on facts not fear. Shutting off the engine, she killed her headlights. In the dim moonlight she could make out the car’s silhouette. “Appears to be a four-door sedan. Dark color. Too much in the shadows to make it out.”
“License plate?”
She tightened her grip on her gun as she waited for a sign the driver was getting out of the car. “Can’t see it.”
“We’ve a car on the way.”
“Good.”
The car paused for a long, tense second, its lights blaring in her direction and its engine humming. He had to see her. Her phone rang, making her jump. A glance at the screen told her it was a local number.
The car then backed up, turned around and sped off, kicking up gravel. The large engine rumbled down the deserted road. Hands trembling, she reached for the phone. “Hello?”
“Ms. Thompson, what’s your status?”
She dropped her head back against the seat and held her semi-automatic close. Adrenaline snapped and bit and then just as quickly faded as it evaporated. “The driver has left. He just drove off.”
“I’ll stay on the line with you.”
“Okay.”
“Is your car damaged? Is there any gasoline leaking?”
She sat up for a moment, sniffing for any signs of leaking gasoline. When she didn’t smell anything, she dropped her head back against the seat and closed her eyes. “No. No gas leaks.”
“Good.”
Damn it. Damn it.
“I’m getting out of the Jeep.”
“You feel strong enough to walk?”
“We’ll see.”
Talking calmed her thoughts. Gun in hand, she opened the door and stepped out. She climbed up the small embankment to the road and stared down the winding road. One hundred yards ahead, the road hooked to the right and vanished.
She didn’t have to wait long before she heard the police sirens and then saw the flash of blue lights. “I see the lights of the police car. Thanks.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She closed her phone and tucked it and her gun in her waistband at the base of her spine and held up her hands. The cops on duty knew they were headed into trouble. They could just as easily see the gun in her hand and figure she was the problem. Hoping to avoid more problems, she waited until they stopped and shone lights on her. The deputies got out of their vehicle.
“I’m Jenna Thompson. I called the accident in.” She explained she was carrying a legally registered weapon.
The officers took the gun from her and once they had control of the situation, asked, “That’s your vehicle at the bottom of the hill?”
“It is. I left my purse inside. It’s on the floor. It has my identification.”
“We’ll get that for you.” The officer was midsized, had a flat belly, and sported a thick mustache and a Tennessee drawl.
“Would you mind notifying Detective Rick Morgan of the accident? I just consulted with him on a case.”
Dark eyes narrowed and his frown deepened. “You’re that artist.”
“That would be me.”
“Yeah, I’ll get him on the horn. Have a seat in my car. It’ll be a few minutes before a tow truck arrives.”
“Thanks.”
“You need an ambulance?”