Chapter 3

 

No one in his right mind would choose this twisty, unlit highway for a fast getaway, especially in a storm like this. At least that’s what Harry hoped the cops would think.

A gust of wind slammed the compact sedan sideways on the wet pavement. His passenger screamed. He swerved back into his lane, hard enough to throw her against the door. Theatrics, but it served her right.

“Hang on. I won’t kill you. Yet.”

He squinted past the wild slap-slap of the wipers at the blurred lane markings. A headache hovered behind his eyes, and he spared one hand from the wheel to knead the back of his neck. Two years since he’d been in the driver’s seat. His reaction time had slipped, but he was still good.

The headlights reflected white off a curtain of rain. Harry kept a steady pressure on the gas, ignoring the pale ghosts of speed limit signs that rose out of the darkness. Speeding infractions were nothing after what he’d done—and would do again.

This was liberty. Not his escape from prison, but this. Speed. Control, even under these conditions. The rush. The edge that made him master of the best tracks in North America, from the legendary Indianapolis Brickyard to the street circuit of his home race in Toronto.

He sat taller, shoulders pressed into the backrest to stretch his muscles. Look at him now, on a third-rate highway on the east coast of Canada, driving a gutless tub. And grateful to hold a steering wheel.

One last race, such as it was. There should be one last celebratory victim before he left the country. He shot a bitter glance at the woman beside him. The girl at the store had been perfect. A mouth-watering blonde in her late teens. Pure looking, maybe even a virgin. But he was stuck with this aging sheep. Too old, wrong hair. Dull.

He arched his back against the tension cramping his spine. He hated his plans being thwarted, hated her for being here. Somehow he’d make this work—make her pay for his loss.

The road flattened at the base of another hill, and he hit the gas. He needed the speed to settle his nerves. These east coast highways didn’t deserve the name. This one only had a single lane in each direction, with sometimes a passing lane in the middle. Good thing there was no one in his way tonight.

The lane markings made a sharp turn to the left. Harry lifted his foot, hands tight on the wheel. The car hydroplaned straight for the pavement’s edge. The headlights shone over an inky drop. Why no guardrail? Cold swept his body, then a wave of blistering heat. He swore. If they went off here …

Teeth clenched, he eased onto the brake. The pedal shuddered as the ABS kicked in. Give me something, anything. Sliding for the brink, the car jerked as tires bit asphalt. He reversed to gain enough room to turn, threw it into drive and crept forward in a shallow turn.

One tire slid on the painted pavement markings. But the car continued into the turn. Harry released the accelerator. The car spun and skidded backward.

Harry sucked air and stood on the brake. His captive screamed again, a long, thin note that broke off as they hit the highway’s gravelled shoulder. The rear wheels slithered, then caught.

Car and body back under control, he let out a long, slow whistle. It wasn’t the first time he’d come out lucky.

The woman dropped her hands from her face. Relieved they hadn’t crashed, or disappointed?

“You’re not getting out of it that easy. We finish this my way.”

He nudged the accelerator, increasing pressure as the wheels grabbed traction. The car slewed back onto the pavement, tires spitting gravel.

She wiped her eyes on her coat sleeve. Her lips moved, and he caught a few words over the hammering rain: “God help me!”

He glared at the dark road ahead. “Don’t waste your breath. If there is a God, He didn’t help any of the others.”

Muscle memory clenched his hands on the steering wheel. “Especially the last one.”

~~~

An exit sign loomed out of the rain. Harry took the off-ramp at a speed that made Ruth brace her feet against the floor. She flinched at the sudden, grating sound as the tires cut a swath through a deep puddle, splashing waterfalls higher than the car. If his driving terrified her, what would happen when he stopped?

The ramp merged onto a secondary highway. Harry eased to a stop on the side of the road. He snapped on the dome light and turned his full attention to her for the first time. The anger in his glare caught Ruth’s breath.

His jaw clenched under its thick layer of stubble. Then his lips pulled into a savage grin. “This must be your lucky day. You get to stand in for my gorgeous blonde. I hope you’re up to it.”

Ruth struggled to breathe. Her lungs felt like they had turned to stone. A cold, heavy stone. “You could let me go,” she whispered through numb lips. “By the time the police found me, you’d be miles away.”

“And ruin my reputation? Not a chance.” Steel blue eyes raked over her.

Ruth clasped her arms across her chest, as if to reinforce the thin blue raincoat. His narrow lips curved at the gesture.

“Don’t worry, you can leave it on—for now. But take that stupid plastic thing off your head.”

What? Ruth’s hand touched wet plastic. As soon as she remembered the hated hat, sweat prickled at the roots of her hair. She didn’t want to obey him, but this had to come off her head—now. A simple bow tied the strings, but she couldn’t work her fingers to unfasten it.

Her breathing hitched. Harry watched her with a mocking smile, as if her helplessness proved his power. She grabbed the crown of the hat and dragged it over her face. It hurt her ears and pulled her hair, but the horrid thing was off.

Harry tossed it into the back seat, then turned to study her. One finger traced the laugh lines that fanned from her left eye. His touch burned.

She willed herself to keep still, to maintain eye contact.

“How old are you?”

Ruth’s eyes widened. “Forty-six.” Would he want to check her teeth? She ground them together against a wave of hysteria. She had to keep control, keep looking for a chance.

“Too old.” He tweaked her chin. “Still, it’s been a long time. You’ll have to do.”

He pulled back onto the road. Ruth leaned against the headrest and tried to pray, but she couldn’t focus. Her thoughts flailed for a way out, mimicking the windshield wipers’ rapid dance.

Slowly a new problem forced itself into her consciousness. She squirmed in her seat. Her captor spared her one brief glance from the road.

“I need to use the washroom.”

His smile was barely visible in the dim glow from the dashboard. “I’ll bet you do. No little jaunts off into to the forest for you. You might get lost. Cross your legs or something. Besides, it’s not my car. I don’t care what happens to the upholstery.”

Ruth tried not to think about the coffee she’d finished before leaving the prayer meeting. She checked the glowing readout of her watch. Was it only an hour ago?

Harry had turned off again, and they were following the old Number Three highway as it snaked southward along the Atlantic coastline. Through his window, the ocean glowed pale in the darkness. No whitecaps tonight. The rain had beaten the waves into a heavy swell.

She and Tony sometimes took this drive on lazy summer days. They liked to browse in the craft shops and stop for lunch in one of the small communities that dotted the coast. But tonight...

Oh, Tony. And Lorna, Alden, and Ian—Susan’s family. How much is too much, God? How could this happen? I did my part and prayed for Harry. I wasn’t supposed to meet him... to be his next victim.

Harry drove slower now. With more buildings around, he probably didn’t want to raise suspicion. If they were stopped on this stretch of road, he wouldn’t have much chance of escape. The sea was inhospitable, and searchers would have the advantage if he took to the unfamiliar woods in the darkness.

After what seemed hours, the road veered inland. Soon they passed another signpost. Harry grunted. “About time.” He turned left onto a dark lane leading into the trees.

Ruth frowned. So he wasn’t fleeing blind. “You know where you’re going.”

“When we get there, the fun begins.”

It wasn’t enough he wanted to kill her. Harry had to mess with her head first? Ruth bit her lip. When he stopped the car, she’d run. Hide in the forest.

Harry doused the headlights and edged the car along by the muted glow of the parking lights. A few minutes later he turned left again, and then right onto a half-hidden track. It looked like an old driveway, winding and narrow in the darkness. The dim lights picked out a strip of grass growing along the hump in the middle. Wet branches groped at the car as it forged ahead.

The car lurched to the right. Trees clawed the passenger door as Harry swerved around a large rock in the road, missing it by inches.

Ruth’s scream brought a bark of laughter. “Don’t worry, you’re safe with me. In the car, that is.”

He rubbed his knuckles down the side of her face. Ruth jerked away and clung to the door. A long branch, bent at an impossible angle by the storm, slapped wet green leaves into the windshield.

Harry put both hands on the wheel. “I had a crash course on how to get here before I escaped. They left out that boulder.”

“So you did have help breaking out.”

“What’s the matter? Think I don’t have any friends? They were happy to help. Planned the whole thing. Even gave me the choice of east coast or west.”

“But the police are following you west.”

He laughed. “My stunt double. If I’d gone that way, he’d be here. And you’d have never known how close you came.”

The forest closed in around the car, suffocating Ruth, mocking her fate. She moistened her lips. “I—Your friends didn’t plan for me. Why don’t you let me go?”

“Forget it.” He was silent for a moment. “You weren’t in anybody’s plans. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Tears welled in Ruth’s eyes. God, I’m in Your plans. Somewhere. Stop him... and show me how to get out of here.