2
The impact with the car’s air bags felt like a head-on collision with a train. Smoke filled the air. Fine dust settled around her. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. The car rolled one more time, then settled upright.
For a long, terrifying moment, the only thing she could hear was her heart pounding. She braced her feet against the floor, then slowly started checking for injuries in the dark. She drew in a couple deep breaths, trying to calm down. Nothing seemed broken. No doubt the rush of adrenaline that could overwhelm pain would fade soon, but at the moment she couldn’t discern any injuries.
Suddenly she could hear the cars rushing by on the road above her. She looked up, but the incline was too steep for her to see anything more than the glow of headlights as they passed. A familiar wave of panic engulfed her. Surely someone had seen the accident. Someone would call 911 and report it. But it was dark. What if no one had even seen what had happened?
Or worse yet, what if the driver of the other car was still out there? It had looked a lot like that black van. Hadn’t it? What if this had been an attempt on her life? What if they wanted to make sure she didn’t walk away from the accident?
She tried to shove aside the growing fear as she attempted to restart the car. Maybe if she could get the engine running and the heater back on, she wouldn’t freeze. She tried to start the engine for a fourth time, but the motor wouldn’t catch. There was no way to know what kind of damage had been done to the car, which meant it wasn’t going anywhere. The morning news had warned about being out here in the weather. How long would it take for hypothermia to set in? Minutes? Hours? It didn’t matter really. She wasn’t going to be here long enough to find out. She slipped her hand down to unbuckle her seat belt, but the metal clasp was jammed. She pushed the release button again.
Nothing.
I know you’re out there, God. I need a miracle. Please.
Temperatures were already hovering around freezing. She couldn’t get out. Couldn’t start the car. Even if she had blankets or water in the car, she wouldn’t have been able to get to them. Unless someone had seen the accident, more than likely she wouldn’t be found until morning.
And morning might be too late, because they were going to come back. They wanted her dead. She knew that now. Someone had found out she’d been asking questions. And now she was going to die. Just like Olivia and Dr. Abbott. Just like Helen.
She searched the front seat again, this time for her phone. It had been sitting on the console, but the car had flipped. It could be anywhere now.
A shout from the embankment interrupted her search. She could see the light of a flashlight or cell phone as someone hurried down to her car. If someone wanted her dead, would they announce their presence? It didn’t seem likely, but did it even matter? Whoever it was would find her, and if it was the same person who’d rammed into her car, there was nowhere for her to run.
Seconds later, a shadow appeared at the driver’s-side window. It was an older man, holding a couple of blankets. He tapped on the window.
She glanced at him while she struggled to unlock and open the door.
“Name’s James Keller.” Cold air whipped into the car as the door swung open. “Are you okay?”
Her hands were shaking and her head hurt, but at least she could move her fingers and toes. “I think more than anything else I’m just cold, but my seat belt’s jammed, and I can’t get out.”
“Just take a deep breath and hang on. My wife’s already called 911, but it’s better that you don’t move.”
“I think I’m okay. Really. I can move my hands and my feet.”
“Is there anyone else in your vehicle?”
“No . . . just me.”
“What’s your name?”
Her name. Why did everything seem so fuzzy? “Caitlyn. Caitlyn Lindsey.”
“Caitlyn . . . don’t worry about the seat belt right now. I want you to put these blankets around you. You need to stay warm.”
“Okay.” She pulled the thick flannel around her neck and arms and tried to slow her breathing, but she was starting to hyperventilate. No . . . She couldn’t panic. She was fine. She just needed to convince herself. “I was driving home and this van . . . it came out of nowhere. Ran into the side of me, and before I knew it, I was here.”
“I know. My wife and I saw it happen, and we’ll make sure the authorities know.”
She let out a huff of air in relief. “Thank you. I wanted to call for help, but I can’t find my phone.”
Flashes of the crash played through her mind, over and over like a stuck record.
“Caitlyn . . . Do you have anyone you want to call? It might be nice to have someone meet you at the hospital.”
She needed to focus on getting out, but for some reason, even a small decision like that seemed complicated. What would he say if she told him that someone had run her off the road in an attempt to scare her? Or maybe to kill her.
Two men were scrambling down the embankment. She could see the lights from the emergency vehicles flashing above them. Still feel the cold seeping through the blanket he had given her.
“Her name’s Caitlyn Lindsey.” Her rescuer took a step back from the car. “My wife and I saw the accident. Someone ran her off the road. Her seat belt’s stuck, so she can’t get out, and she’s pretty shook up.”
The paramedic took the older man’s place. “Ma’am, my name’s Clint. We’re going to get you out of here in just a few minutes, then take you to a hospital to get checked over.”
“I don’t need to go to the hospital. Please . . . if you can get me out of here, I just want to go home. I’m fine. Really.”
“I understand, but we need to make sure you don’t have a head injury or any internal injuries. The first thing I’m going to do is cut you out of your seat belt.”
She nodded. She hated feeling so helpless, but cold and fatigue had overcome her, and she was too tired to argue. Besides, there were only two things she could think about. She was certain of it now. One, everything she’d thought might be true was true. And two, someone wanted her dead.
And both terrified her.
The paramedics somehow managed to carry her up the steep embankment. Her body trembled as much from the cold as from fear, as they put her on a backboard and then placed a brace around her neck.
One of the men started checking her vitals. “Can you tell me what happened?”
“I was driving home, and someone ran me off the road.”
“Can you tell me today’s date?”
“Of course . . . It’s . . .” She tried to fight her way out of the fog. “February seventeenth.”
“Good. Does anything hurt?”
“I don’t think so. I’m just so . . . so cold.”
“We’ll get you warmed up, but we do need to get you checked out at the hospital.”
She nodded this time, deciding not to argue anymore. Fatigue pressed through her, and she couldn’t keep her eyes open as the ambulance pulled back onto the main road. At least for the moment she was safe.
Three hours later, Caitlyn picked up her cell phone from the table beside the hospital bed and checked her messages. Even though she had no obvious injuries, the doctor had insisted she stay overnight for observation, but she still hadn’t told anyone where she was. She’d been lucky, the doctor had told her after finishing his examination. No broken bones, no internal injuries, just a few bruises. Her only regret now was that she’d been unable to thank her guardian angel for showing up at the scene and calling 911. He’d disappeared into the night after the ambulance came.
But that wasn’t what was on the forefront of her mind right now. What worried her was the chance that the accident could make the evening news cycle, which meant whoever had run her off the road might be able to find out that she was alive—assuming that they wanted her dead. Even if they’d just wanted to scare her, they’d done a good job. She glanced out into the hallway where a couple of the nurses were chatting, unable to push away the uneasiness. She wasn’t safe here. If they came after her again . . .
The row of machines routinely checking her pulse and oxygen levels hummed in the background. She needed help from someone, but who? She could call her best friend Amber, but she was out of town for the week at her mother’s. Besides, even if she were home, there was nothing she could do. Not really. But if not Amber, then who? She could call someone at church, but even that seemed risky. The last thing she wanted to do was put someone else’s life in danger.
Josh Solomon’s name surfaced, and not for the first time. In fact, she’d considered calling him ever since Helen’s death. She pulled her legs up toward her chest and rested her chin on her knees, wondering if it was time to call him. Josh was a police officer, but he was also Olivia’s husband and had spent the last year dealing with her death. Calling him would mean asking him to dig into his wife’s death again, something he might not want to do. But from everything she knew about him, he was an outstanding detective, and there was no way he was going to be able to pass up new information about his wife.
But was it fair to try to drag him into this when she didn’t have any solid proof of what was going on? On the other hand, what more proof did she need? Someone had just run her off the road. She glanced at the door of her room, a plan formulating in her mind. Despite the doctor’s concerns, she couldn’t stay here. Especially if there was a chance they could find her.
She drew in a deep breath, decision made. She couldn’t do this on her own. It was time to make the call, even if Josh Solomon ended up thinking she was crazy. She could arrange to meet him nearby, then tell him what she knew. What happened next would be up to him.
She placed the call, then drummed her fingers against her leg while she waited for someone to answer.
“Houston PD.”
“Yes . . . I need to speak with Detective Solomon.”
“One moment, please, I can transfer you.”
After the first ring, it went straight to his voice mail. Caitlyn paused, debating for a moment if she should leave a message or not.
“Josh Solomon? This is Caitlyn Lindsey. I worked with Olivia at MedTECH Laboratories. I really need to talk to you as soon as possible. It . . . it’s about Olivia, about her . . . murder. I need to speak to you in person. It’s important. There’s a diner three blocks from your precinct that’s open late. I’ll be there in about an hour and will wait until they close. Please . . . please come if you can.”
She hung up, realizing how presumptuous she’d just been. She’d assumed he’d listen to the message and come, but there were no guarantees he’d even hear her message tonight. Or if he did listen to it, there was a good chance he’d conclude the message was a hoax and simply delete it. Still . . . what other option did she have? All she could do now was go to an ATM, pull out her savings, and pray that Josh Solomon showed up.