Page 73

CHAPTER 73

I WATCHED THE MINUTES tick by on the clock in the dashboard, slowly calming as the numbers changed and the miles of desert and then forest flew by the windows. My panic simmered down to a quiet tension that stretched its limbs within mine. I was a smart, capable woman who could handle herself, yet conflicting emotions paraded through my mind: Guilt about keeping Baby in the dark about my current situation. Fury that Dave Summerly had dismissed my concerns so coldly. Embarrassment that I might be whipping the whole scenario into something more than it was and hysterically dragging a homicide detective in to back me up on a non-threat.

In the end, I didn’t have any definitive proof that someone was on my tail. I had only what I took to be evidence of their presence. I sighed and gripped the wheel and told myself that calling in backup had been the sensible thing to do. I would keep driving and not risk being attacked in a gas station or at a rest stop where innocent civilians could get in harm’s way.

The traffic thinned. I started seeing billboards for big Los Angeles hotels and checked my phone. I was still streaming my location to Brogan. It calmed me further to see myself as a little blue bubble on the long beige highway, heading toward Los Angeles, my return home as yet uninterrupted by actual violence.

I’m gonna be okay, I told myself. Brogan will call and tell me that he’s nearby, and I will pull over, and he will reassure me, and we will convoy back to the city .

The traffic dissolved. Mine was the only car on the highway when I felt a whump from under the car, and the sickening flapping sound that told me I’d blown a tire.