hadn't returned her call yet. She would ask the dispatcher to send a squad to meet her at her home. Gretchen tromped on the accelerator and, with one eye on the road as she steered, she searched through her recently called numbers for the right one. At the stop sign, she signaled to turn left and hit the Send key on her cell phone.
As soon as she turned the corner, another vehicle came up rapidly behind her. It must have been parked close to the intersection and had started up when she passed by. The car was following close behind her, too close. Her cell phone flew from her hand at the first impact. If she hadn't grabbed Nimrod to protect him, she would have had both hands on the steering wheel and might have stayed on the road. Instead, when the second blow struck the driver's side of the car somewhere close behind the front seat, the Echo careened into a shallow ditch that separated the street from the airport on-ramp. It happened so quickly that she didn't see the vehicle until it appeared in front of her after striking her the second time. Now it forced her car away from the street and toward the fence.
A green truck.
She slammed on the brakes and came to a stop, with the pickup truck wedging her next to a concrete pylon. Before she could throw the car into reverse and make a run for it, she saw the blur of a uniform.
And a gun.
And a familiar face.
* 40 *
Duanne Wilson of the bushy eyebrows and gleeful bidding tried to wrench the car door open. The jolliness was gone.
"Unlock the door," he snarled, the barrel of the gun up against the glass.
Gretchen had never looked into a gun barrel before, and if she survived tonight, she hoped it would be the last time. She'd never thought of herself as a particularly brave person, and she wasn't out to win any medals right now. Brave and smart weren't the same things.
You could be brave and foolish and dead.
Not having a lot of options to choose from, she chose to go with cowardly, alive, and still foolish.
Gretchen unlocked the door while scanning the seat and floor for the cell phone that had flown out of her hand. No such luck.
"Moonlighting as a Phoenix Police officer?" she said as he opened the door. The badge on his uniform seemed to mock her. The Phoenix bird adorned it. The mythical bird that could never die. "Halloween is still a few weeks away,"
she said.
What a card she was.
"Move over. NOW." The threat in his voice was enough to make her spring across to the passenger seat and wedge Nimrod into her purse.
Gretchen gulped air through an obstruction in her throat the size of a Gila monster.
Maybe he didn't kill women. That would be good news for her. He'd take what he came for and leave. Gretchen didn't believe that for a minute.
Duanne took the wheel. The car lurched backward and sprang from the ditch.
"Finally, I've got you," he said, slamming the gears into drive. "Captured."
Captured? Like a flag?
It's strange what goes through your head when you're paralyzed with fear, Gretchen thought.
"Where are we going? To the farewell party?"
"Not even close."
Gretchen slid her hand closer to the door. Next light, and she'd make her escape. She'd take her chances that Duanne wasn't a sharpshooter. She'd risk a bullet in her back. As if reading her mind, he said, "Try it, and I'll make a point of eliminating every single thing you value, starting with that ragged, floppy mutt and ending with your devoted aunt."
He'd established enough motivation to keep her inside the car.
Gretchen felt Nimrod shudder inside her purse, and she reached in and gave him a reassuring pat.
The airport lights dimmed behind them as they sped toward Camelback Mountain. Gretchen's cell phone rang from someplace on the floor, and she automatically stooped to retrieve it from under the seat.
"Get up," Duanne screamed, digging the gun into her side. "Sit up. NOW!"
She eased back into the seat, careful not to startle him, and listened as the phone rang several more times before stopping.
Was it Matt finally calling her back? Like every other man in her life, he offered too little, too late. This seemed to be a recurring theme.
She glanced down between her feet but didn't see the phone.
Help as close as the floor mat yet as far away as the stars.
A few minutes later, they pulled into