Asher gave a slow nod. “The ATM hit at two in the morning would support that. She wanted to make sure she had plenty.”
“I didn’t realize it until later,” Travis said, “but she was gone by the time I got there to watch her house.” He pressed his fingers to his eyes and shook his head. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice, but the light was on in her kitchen and I thought she was there.” He was still kicking himself that he’d let her drive off from Brooke’s house without him. “I never saw evidence of anyone else, though. I never saw any indication of a stalker or that anything was wrong.” His jaw tightened. How had he let her just vanish? He should have done something, noticed something was off while he was sitting outside her home. “Okay, here’s what I think we should do.”
The others exchanged glances and Asher raised a brow. “What?”
“It’s really simple, actually. We catch her stalker.”
“Well, that is simple—in a very complex way. Any brilliant ideas for how to do that?” Brooke asked.
“I might have one idea. And if it works, you’re free to label it brilliant.”
CHAPTER
FOUR
MID-FEBRUARY
THURSDAY EVENING
SUNRISE, NC
After three weeks of lying low and hiding out, Heather had finally convinced herself that she’d ditched her stalker. Tonight, she drove the winding back road in Sunrise, a small, practically off-the-grid town where no one knew her but had gotten used to seeing her around. Especially since she’d just started volunteering to deliver medications from the pharmacy this past week.
She was still watchful, still careful, still on edge, but she’d done what she’d learned to do as a child and later as a teen. Take care of herself, handle her problems alone—and depend on no one else to help her.
The thought left her strangely sad and empty. She missed her friends. She missed her job. She missed Travis. Which was completely silly because she hadn’t given him—them—a chance. She’d let fears and insecurities send her scurrying. And it made her mad.
Mostly at herself.
In spite of that, she was ready to get back to her life, but was unsure of what that would mean. In the little town of Sunrise, she’d found a semblance of peace—and some volunteer work to pass the hours. The thought of staying there indefinitely wasn’t completely unpleasant.
Headlights flashed in her rearview mirror and she adjusted it with a frown. Usually, before darkness fell, she’d finished her deliveries—and up to this point, none of them had been babies—and was tucked into the surprisingly comfortable hotel room, watching I Love Lucy reruns and sketching one “get back to life” plan after another. Plans that involved drawing her stalker out and catching him. Unfortunately, she’d tossed each one as ridiculous or stupid—or would require help. The one thing she was trying to avoid.
The headlights pulled closer. Three car lengths back, but definitely still there. “Stop freaking,” she muttered. “It’s a mountain road. One way up and one way down.” The safe way. She didn’t count the flimsy guardrail running along the edge, protecting motorists from the steep drop-off. “People have to travel this road every day at all hours.”
Just because someone was behind her didn’t mean he was following her. In spite of the mental reassurances, the hair on her arms spiked and she tightened her fingers around the wheel.
She hadn’t thought about having to drive home in the dark, but a simple vitamin prescription delivery had led her to a woman in labor—a sweet young waitress who’d served her at the diner. When Heather had arrived, Kelly was too far along to make the trip to the hospital. Since cell reception was zero up on the mountain, Heather went into doctor mode. And she hadn’t wanted to leave the new mother and baby too soon. Which meant she was finally on her way back, six hours later than planned.
And now the lights were right on her bumper. Closing in fast.
Certainty centered itself in her gut. If she was being paranoid due to a set of headlights, so be it, but she felt quite sure he’d found her.
Heather glanced at the phone clipped in its holder. Using voice commands, she said, “Call 911.”
She breathed a relieved sigh when the call connected, despite the area’s spotty reception.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
“I’m on Tipton Road,” she said, leaning over to open the glove box and slip the Glock from its foam-covered resting place. “There’s someone riding my tail and driving recklessly. Could you send help?”
The keyboard clicked in the background.
Heather turned into the curve, tapping the brakes. The car behind her surged forward and rammed into her.
A scream escaped her as she spun the wheel to avoid shooting off the side of the road. Her tires churned on the shoulder, spinning gravel and slinging mud, but she made it back onto the road and gunned the engine. Then slammed on the brakes when she turned too fast into the next sharp curve.
The vehicle on her tail battered her bumper, sending her careening around the bend. The steering wheel spun beneath her palms, and she slid along the guardrail, firecracker sparks bursting at the metal-on-metal contact. Another hit from behind. The force of the motion hurled her against the seatbelt.
Her little rental car hit a post and spun, doing a one eighty, the back end smashing through a break in the guardrails and skidding over the edge of the mountain. Heather released another scream as she continued down, rolling and bouncing violently. No amount of brake stomping slowed her descent.
Another desperate cry strangled her and she held on, waiting for the impact that was going to hurt.
Jesus, help me . . .
Travis pressed the gas pedal, trying desperately to get to the scene in front of him. He’d followed Heather to the farmhouse, then stayed a good distance behind her when she left.
He’d rounded the curve just in time to see a dark SUV shoot out of a side street and into the single lane, causing him to slam on the brakes to keep from plowing into it. His nerves had tightened, his attention on the reckless driver, wishing he had blue lights to flip on.
Then the driver rushed ahead, crowding Heather’s car in front of him, and finally, with one more burst of speed, sent it into a spin on the narrow mountain road.
Travis laid on his horn, blaring it long and loud. The driver who’d rammed the Mustang had surged past the drop-off and taken the next curve almost on two wheels, taillights disappearing.
Travis pulled to a fast stop on the shoulder and threw the truck in park. He opened the driver’s door with his left hand and snagged his phone with his right, then bolted toward where he’d seen Heather’s car drop out of sight, his stomach twisting as he looked down.
“Heather,” he whispered.
The little white Mustang was wedged tail first against a large tree. The headlights pointed upward. However, the landscape leveled out near the tree that cradled the Mustang. If he could get her out, he would find a way to get her back up to the truck. Travis dialed 911 as he ran back to his vehicle. The call dropped. “No, no. Don’t do this.” He tried different locations until he finally got two bars and dialed again.
“MVA on Tipton Road,” he said when the woman picked up. “Someone ran her off and she spun out over the side and down the embankment.”