Page 3 of Shadowing Her Stalker

His insouciance annoyed her, but she kept her eyes glued to the traffic ahead of her. The last thing she needed was to tick off the man with the gun. Traffic was light as they raced past the small bedroom communities flanking the highway on the other side of the county line.

They flew past strip malls and chain restaurants, budget hotels and car dealerships. Logic told her the thriving commercial areas denoted miles of civilization beyond. They were driving through what passed for urban sprawl in a sparsely populated state. But it wouldn’t last long. Soon, there wouldn’t be anything but large tracts of forest dotted with tiny towns. Sleepy, slightly run-down communities with a post office, possibly a diner or barbecue joint and, if they were lucky, a gas station.

Sure enough, shopping centers gave way to a few edge-of-town motels. A billboard advertised a travel plaza at the next exit. Green highway signs listed the mileage to Hot Springs, Arkadelphia and Texarkana.

As the highway narrowed to two lanes in each direction, Cara forced herself to take three deep, deliberate breaths, counting in her head as she cycled through each one.

“There you go, breathe in life,” the man beside her said, his voice faintly mocking.

Cara’s blood ran ice-cold.

Breathe in life. Breathe in LYYF.She’d ended every recording she’d ever done for the LYYF app with those soothing words.

Now they terrified her.

The guy who’d pointed a gun at her in an airport parking deck had twisted them. Taunted her with words meant to reassure. He knew who she was. This wasn’t some random carjacking. Had he been waiting for her. Why? This could not be happening.

Clutching the steering wheel, she turned to look at him, wide-eyed. “What did you say?”

“You heard me,” he answered, waving her disbelief away.

“You know who I am?”

She cringed as the words came out of her mouth, but her brain was blown and she wasn’t feeling up to playing cat and mouse. What was the use when the cat was holding her at gunpoint.

“Do you buy into all the woo-woo meditation stuff, or do you do it because they pay you to say it?”

He sat there pointing a gun at her and he expected her to answer questions about her job?

She clenched her jaw as one of the three semis boxing her in decided he wanted to work his way into the right lane. She slowed to avoid being clipped as the big rig edged over. A sign advertising a gas station with a fast-food franchise flashed past her window. The truck ahead of her slowed. Cara looked to her right and spotted the brightly lit station.

The driver ahead of her sped up as they approached the ramp. Cara accelerated too, but when she checked her mirror, she saw the semi on her rear bumper was signaling his intent to exit.

They were almost past the ramp when Cara jerked the wheel hard to the right, throwing her passenger against the door.

The tires kicked up loose gravel from the shoulder.

The man beside her cursed a blue streak.

The driver behind them indicated his displeasure by blowing his horn at her.

A trailer hauling wood chips sat stationary at the bottom of the ramp, right turn signal flashing. Cross traffic on the county road at the bottom of the ramp did not let up.

“What do you think you’re doing?” the man holding the gun yelled, reaching across to grab the steering wheel.

Cara jammed on the brakes, her arms locked against the steering wheel to counteract the laws of physics. Her passenger boomeranged into the dash. Behind them, brakes screamed in protest and the driver laid on his horn.

The moment they jerked to a halt, she thrust the gearshift into Park, popped the latch on her seat belt and rolled out the driver’s door onto the gritty berm.

The man shouted, but she didn’t look back.

She ran.

Cara ran flat out, streaking down along the side of the trailer filled with fragrant wood shavings. Oblivious to the drama playing out behind him, the driver let off his brakes enough to make the hydraulics sigh with anticipation. Cara skidded into the ditch running alongside the ramp, thanking the stars above she’d had sense enough to wear sneakers for the plane ride.

She watched as the truck crept forward a few feet, then jerked to a stop again. Glancing behind her, she saw a battered pickup hurtling down the county road. She heard another shout, followed by a terrifying pop.

Cara didn’t wait for the man to get a second round off. Using the pickup as cover, she darted across the ramp in front of the semi, praying the driver wasn’t tempted to inch any farther into the intersection.

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