back against the seat, and her ears rang from the pain. She cradled her jaw in her hand and tried not to cry.
He was going to kill her, that much was obvious, and there was nothing she could say that could stop him.
She needed to make a new plan.
Adam
He hadn’t planned on hitting her, but every time she opened her mouth, another lie came slithering out like a thick black snake, coiled and ready to strike. He couldn’t think when she talked like that. It clouded things in his brain, made him foggy and slow and confused.
There was a smell coming off her—blood and sweat undercut with something else, something animal. He didn’t like the fact that he was breathing it in, taking her smell into his lungs, pushing it deep into his cells.
He didn’t like the fact that she kept talking, either. He’d told her to shut up, but she wouldn’t listen. Of course she wouldn’t listen. He had to teach her a lesson.
Hitting her had made every nerve in his body sing.
At first he’d figured he would just kill her. Shoot her straight between the eyes and put her down like the dog she was. Now he wanted to drag the moment out, really savor it, now that she was next to him, so close that if he reached out he could touch her, feel her warm blood racing underneath her skin, touch the soft dark curls on her head . . .
He had been locked away in his own dark prison for so long. Now that he had been released, he wanted to revel in his freedom. He wanted to look into her eyes and see his own power reflected there. To see that he was a god and that she was nothing in the face of him.
This is your purpose on this earth, and you are fulfilling it.
Clines Corners, New Mexico—60 Miles to Albuquerque
The sun edged up over the horizon, a single blinding point of white light that turned the sky and the desert floor a burnished orange, as if the whole world had gone up in flames and she was driving straight into the center of the inferno. The kind of sunrise meant to inspire awe at the extraordinary beauty of our world.
Rebecca flipped the visor down and squinted out of the splintered windshield. The Jeep was hurting pretty bad, but she pushed it as fast as it would go, the engine rumbling, the speedometer clocking over eighty, her eyes locked on the highway, searching for the pickup’s taillights.
She saw the crest of the Clines Corners Travel Center at the intersection of 40 and 285. Four directions, four choices, no sign of the taillights. She punched the gas and the engine groaned. It wouldn’t hold like this forever. She had to find them, fast, before it broke down for good. It was close to seven a.m. There were a few big rigs sharing the road with her now, and she weaved past them, ignoring the spark of fear she felt every time she got near one. She wanted it to be just her and the road and the wink of the truck’s taillights.
She hit the junction and slowed. Nothing in front of her but an eighteen-wheeler hauling a pair of tractors. Nothing in the rearview, and it wouldn’t make sense for him to double back on himself. Route 285 South stretched out to her right, empty except for a radio tower far off in the distance.
She caught a set of taillights heading north on 285. She couldn’t be sure they were his, but it was the best chance she had. She clicked her turn signal on and peeled left.
I’m coming for you, she thought, fixing her gaze on the taillights and gunning the engine. I’m coming.
Outskirts of Clines Corners, New Mexico—73 Miles to Albuquerque
He’d taken a left turn at the junction, and they were heading north on an unfamiliar road. Cait’s heart sank. Even if by some miracle people were looking for her, the chances of them finding her were even slimmer. Surely the first thing they’d do would be retrace her steps, though how they’d do that, she didn’t know. She tried to think of the people they’d seen along the drive, anyone who might act as a witness. The waitress back in the diner. Scott the trucker, though he would be long gone by now. The gas station attendant.
There was no one, really. She was in uncharted territory, alone.