Page 1 of The Breakdown

Chapter One

“Of course, I had to get the cart with the wonky wheel,” Natalie Brewer said under her breath as she forcefully maneuvered around an end cap displaying cases of Pespi Zero Sugar. She hurried down the aisle, wheel squeaking, and grabbed a bag of Pepperidge Farm Milano Mint Chocolate cookies. They were her fave, and she’d hoped that finding something she liked would help to calm her anxiety a bit. But no such luck. Her heart was still beating damn near out of her chest.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, tossing the cookies in the cart and taking a wayward glance behind her. Sure enough, the man with the ball cap and shoulder-length blond hair came into view, entering the aisle. When he saw that he’d been spotted, he dropped his head, reached for a bag of sugar cookies, and pretended to read the label.

White-hot heat tingled up her neck to her face as she shoved the troublesome cart around another end cap, heading for the next aisle. Once there, she paused, forcing herself to act casual, to examine the different blocks of cheeses. The first few she didn’t pay much attention to, too busy thinking about the mysterious man to give them much thought. But eventually, she calmed enough to focus on a nice block of Monterey Jack. She decided it was the one to go good with the fancy crackers she’d previously added to her cart. The pair would make a nice little snack, along with some white wine and some black grapes. Maybe she’d even cool off in the bath and soak in her favorite lavender bath salts as she indulged in the food. Yes, that sounded good. Maybe this day could be saved after all. That is, if the man with the hair would stop following her.

She flicked the rectangle of Monterey Jack into the cart and continued down the aisle, trying to keep her breathing steady, once again trying to convince herself that the man showing up on every aisle was just coincidence and that Allen, her ex-husband, was not having her followed. Again.

She paused to look at more cheese. She plucked a block of Kerrygold Dubliner Irish cheese. She’d never tried Irish cheese before. With a careless shrug, she tossed it into her cart and carried on. She was almost to the end of the aisle and so far, no man. Her heart fluttered with hope as she readied to turn the corner. But just as she was about to do so, she snuck a look back to double-check, unable to help herself. And there, just rounding the end cap, was the man. He quickly cast his gaze down and busied himself with the cream cheeses.

Furious, she gritted her teeth and shoved her cart quickly up to the checkout lane. Grocery shopping was over. She was sick of this shit. So damn sick of it. Allen was having her tailed again and they were making it more than obvious now, just to harass her, to frighten her, to anger her. Well, it was working, goddammit, because she couldn’t help but feel all of those things. And with Allen upping his game to showing up and personally threatening her, along with damaging her property, like slashing her tires, she was more than fed up and frightened. She was terrified and hopeless.

But no one would help her and it wasn’t like she hadn’t tried. The cops said they couldn’t prove anything in regard to Allen, but she had done as they’d suggested and taken out a restraining order. Little good that had done though. Allen had apparently just hired men to follow her. To do his dirty work for him. And now this asshole, this surfer-looking dude with hair better looking than her own, was tailing her like some annoying puppy. Jesus, when was it going to end?

She could, of course, give Allen what he wanted. She could cave and accept him back and remarry him. That would stop the current harassment, sure. But the physical and mental abuse would start up again, along with the jealousy and controlling behavior. Of this she had no doubt. She couldn’t go through that again. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t survive.

She absently touched her neck, recalling the last time Allen had put his hands on her two weeks before when he’d forced his way into her apartment. He’d shoved her against the wall with a tight grip on her throat, telling her she could never leave, never escape him. She still had the yellow-and-purple bruising marking her skin from the encounter.

She swallowed hard, realizing that his threat was finally resonating.

Her cart protested loudly as she moved forward in line. A quick glance to her right showed that the man was now standing in the checkout lane parallel to her. He was holding a blue bottle of Powerade, his one and only purchase.

She rolled her eyes. Asshole.

She briefly considered leaving her cart and darting out the door. But she knew it was no use. She wasn’t a fast runner and the man looked very fit, his surfer hair giving way to a surfer’s athletic build. He’d dart out right after her, leaving his Powerade easily behind. Still, she was ready to flee. She’d packed a bag that morning with her laptop, a few days’ worth of clothes and toiletries, and almost all of her savings, knowing if the chance came, she’d take off and speed away out of town. If only she could find a way to do it.

She inched forward to unload her cart. She was buying cookies, crackers, and cheese. Jesus. She hadn’t even had the wherewithal to grab the wine or the grapes. Oh, well. She’d still try to have a nice relaxing bath.

But who was she kidding? She was too upset. There would be no relaxing. No nice cool bath to escape the scorching Phoenix heat. There would only be pacing up and down the hallway, while her roommate’s nosy cat watched her with an all-too-sanctimonious glare. Then she’d go to her room and crash on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as the fan rotated around and around, doing very little to cool her. She’d think of her life and where it had all gone wrong, and there would be too many occurrences to count.

“Did you find everything you were looking for, Ms. Brewer?” the grocery clerk asked with a polite smile. Natalie stared at her for a moment, unsure as to how she knew her name. But then she remembered, she’d typed in her phone number for her discount membership so she could take advantage of all the sales.

“Yes, I did, thank you.” She returned the smile and pulled her wallet out of her purse to leaf out some cash. She took her receipt, the few bags of groceries, and headed back out into the late August heat. She squinted against the brutal sun and tried like hell to pretend that it wasn’t a hundred and seven degrees and that she wasn’t out in it during the hottest part of the day.

Please, God, allow this heat to let up. It’s killing me and everyone else.

With sweat beading her brow, she loaded up her pale yellow 2008 Chevy Aveo and climbed inside the sauna-like interior. She quickly cranked the car and blasted the AC, but it helped very little, blowing warm, rather than cold air. The car was in bad need of a freon charge. One more thing on her list that cost money she didn’t have.

But she forged on.

She reversed out of the parking space and headed for the road. She was waiting there with her right turn signal on when she happened to catch a glimpse of the vehicle behind her in the rearview mirror.

“No,” she said, though she wasn’t surprised.

The surfer dude was behind her in a jacked up red truck.

She jutted her chin in defiance as her heart careened in her chest. Fucking Allen. Fucking fuck face Allen. She couldn’t take it anymore. She just couldn’t. She’d show him. Once and for all.

As soon as the road was clear to her left, she slammed on the gas and made a left turn instead of a right and peeled out across the roadway in front of oncoming traffic. Horns blared and tires screeched, but she didn’t dare stop or look back, flooring her little Aveo, willing it to gain speed. She gripped the steering wheel tightly and prayed, and when her car had gained enough speed, she craned her neck to see the man in his truck still waiting in the grocery store turn lane. She smiled as she looked at herself in the mirror.

“Catch me now, asshole.”

She pressed harder on the gas and made another quick turn. Then another. And soon she was on I-17 heading north out of the Phoenix city limits. But where was she going? She didn’t know. She just needed to drive, to feel free for a little while, give herself time to think.

She drove for a long while and pulled off past the Rock Springs Cafe exit and drove along a dirt road for another twenty minutes. Storm clouds were building to the north, and they now looked ominous enough to strike. She’d been so focused on her thoughts that she’d failed to notice the clouds or the barren desert around her.

She stopped her vehicle and turned around in the middle of the road. She needed to head back. She honestly had nowhere to go. She couldn’t afford to hide out in a hotel, though she wished like hell she could. No, her little defiant misadventure was over. But as she accelerated once again, her car hitched. A few seconds later, it hitched again and made an awful grinding noise. She looked at the gauges. The car was overheating and the check engine light was on. Her car should be used to the heat though, shouldn’t it? Damned if she knew. She knew nothing about cars. Why hadn’t anyone taught her about cars? Better yet, why hadn’t she learned on her own?

---