8

The whistle came closer, louder. Tommy had to do something. Fast. The deployed airbag made moving his arms difficult. He needed to deflate the bag before it pushed all the air from his lungs. His arm ached, but he wiggled it to the center console and secured his pocketknife in his hand. He slashed the blade through the material.

The bag deflated, and he pushed it aside. He spared a quick look out his window. The large black train was seconds away.

Tommy slammed his foot on the gas and shot forward, crashing through the wooden gate on the opposite side of the track. The ground vibrated and the thumping of the train trembled behind him. Tremors overtook his body, but he couldn’t just sit there. He had to know who’d just tried to kill him.

Pushing open the door, he stumbled out of the car. He cradled his injured ribs with a shaking arm as he faced the quick-flying cars of the train. Through flashes of the scene ahead, only the taillights of the retreating truck gave any hints of who had come after him. Not even the color of the large vehicle was clear in the dark night.

A shaky breath left his body. He hunched over and rested his forearms on his knees. The wind from the speeding train mixed with the frigid air, but he didn’t mind. He needed it to cool the flames of turmoil licking inside his stomach.

Straightening, he grabbed his phone and called dispatch to report the incident. The crime scene unit might be able to identify the tread marks on the snow-covered street. He’d walk over and mark off a good section of the road after the train passed to make sure no other vehicles contaminated the tracks with their own.

After relaying the information to dispatch, he called Katherine. He needed to let her know he wouldn’t be stopping by. Plus, just hearing her voice might help calm his tangled nerves. She was always the one he turned to when he was upset. After their mom died, Katherine had become the one he leaned on, while his dad had buried himself in work, his brother tried to please everyone, and his grandparents lost themselves in grief.

“You almost here?” Katherine picked up after the first ring.

“No.” His voice came out thick, like cotton balls were wedged in his throat. “Someone pushed my cruiser onto the train tracks just south of town.”

“What?” The word exploded on the line. “On purpose?”

“No doubt.” He crouched in front of the damaged back end of his car. He’d need a tow truck to take his cruiser to an autobody shop. “Bastard turned around and high-tailed it out of here. Police are on the way.”

“I’m coming. Don’t even try to argue.”

He chuckled, and his ribs ached. “I know better than to take on any argument with you. But it’s really not necessary. By the time you get here, backup will have arrived and I can get a ride from whatever deputy shows up on scene.”

“Why do you need a ride?”

He let his gaze roam over the crunched metal of his vehicle again. “My car might be totaled. For sure can’t drive it now.”

She sucked in a breath. “Are you okay? Are the paramedics coming, too?”

“I’m a little banged up. Nothing major.” Not like he’d tell if that wasn’t true. No reason to worry her if he was all right. “I’m sure an ambulance is on the way. I’ll get checked out.”

“I need to fill in Theo, then I’ll be there. Hold tight.”

“Katherine, really, stay home. It’s late and cold. I’ll come see you tomorrow. I promise.”

“Fine.” The reluctance in her voice told him how hard it was to stay put. “But call if you need anything. I love you. Stay safe.”

“I love you, too.” He put his phone back in his pocket and watched the last of the train fly by. Making sure the coast was clear, he limped to the center of the tracks. Bits and pieces of smashed metal from his car littered the ground. He kicked the bits of wreckage aside, shining a light on the debris, but nothing appeared to be useful in identifying the make or model of the truck—or who’d been behind the wheel.

Sirens pierced the night. Tommy walked toward the approaching emergency vehicles coming from the center of town. A cruiser and an ambulance stopped on the side of the road and parked in front of his ruined car. Tommy spied a wide-brimmed hat on the head of the large man behind the wheel of the cruiser and groaned.

Sheriff Mike Wells, his father, stepped out of his car with a hard scowl on his doughy face. His eyes met Tommy’s as he hurried over.

Tommy straightened and tried not to wince. He hadn’t lied when telling Katherine he was fine, but that didn’t mean his whole body didn’t hurt like a bitch. But he couldn’t let his dad notice, or he’d make a bigger deal than necessary.

Mike stopped in front of him, sparing a quick glance at the car. “What in the world happened?”

“I’m surprised whoever called you didn’t fill you in.”

Mike pressed his thin lips together. “I got the gist, but I’d like to hear what happened from you.”

Suppressing a sigh, Tommy divulged every detail. The emergency medic jogged toward him, but Tommy lifted a hand to indicate the younger man had to wait. He needed his dad to take him seriously—to see him as a competent lawman—and he couldn’t exude that image with a medic buzzing around checking his injuries.

By the time Tommy finished, his limbs shook and the pain in his head had intensified tenfold. He leaned against the hood of his car, hoping it would keep him upright.