Page 108 of Lethal Danger

If he could slow enough, he could use the emergency brake to do the rest. But if he tried it at the speed he was going now, he’d lose control.

Didn’t help that vehicles kept getting in his way.

And that he’d just reached a hill. That he was going to go down.

The height at the top of the hill gave him a birds’ eye view of the traffic ahead. Three cars in front of him, then a brief gap before the oncoming traffic would reach him.

He hoped.

His car slid down the hill, gaining speed.

The rear of the pickup truck in front of him came up fast.

He darted around, letting the plummet give him the speed he needed to pass the pickup, then the two cars ahead of that.

The oncoming semi gained speed faster than he’d hoped.

Great time to drive ten miles over the limit, pal.

Hawthorne glanced over his shoulder, watching for the split-second he cleared the front car.

There.

He darted back into the right lane as the semi driver blared the horn.

If only an uphill would follow, but the road laid out flat instead, letting Hawthorne’s car keep its speed.

He pumped the brakes again, getting a little help from half the braking system.

A chain-link fence on the right bordered what appeared to be an industrial property. Looked like the best assist he was going to get.

He kept pumping the brakes as he neared the fence.

He angled the wheel just enough to send his car over the curb, onto the empty sidewalk where he could line up the passenger side with the fence.

As gently as he could, he aimed his car toward the fence.

A scraping sound made him grit his teeth. His car would never be the same.

He angled away, then back to the fence, letting the scrape of metal on metal slow the car until he could safely apply the emergency brake.

The car finally stopped.

And Hawthorne breathed.

Thank the Lord he hadn’t hurt anyone.

He pushed open the driver’s door and stood, adrenaline still coursing through his veins. No way was that from worn brake pads.

He dropped to the grass between the sidewalk and the fence and pulled his smartphone from his pocket. Turning on the flashlight function, he shined it under the car.

Sure enough. The brake lines had obviously been cut and were wet with splattered brake fluid that should’ve been on the inside.

Pulling back from the car, he got to his feet. Who would want to tamper with his brakes?

The author of the threatening note from the night before? Someone from the cult? Maybe he’d shaken up Patch as much as he’d hoped. Pushed the conman to do something about the threat Hawthorne presented. Patch could’ve had someone leave the note on Hawthorne’s car, too. Intentionally using Best Life stationery to send a clear message.

Hawthorne had left voicemail messages with two of Sam’s friends whose names he’d gotten from Rebekah. He hadn’t been able to find a number or location for the third one yet. Maybe Hawthorne was getting too close to the truth about Sam, and Patch or someone else wanted to stop him.

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