“No kidding.” The driver’s side is away from us, the windows tinted too black to see in, and I can’t see the plate.
Levi instantly yanks me away, behind the cover of the building, and when the truck parks, he gets in front of me.
“Don’t move. Don’t talk.”
Blood is rushing through my confused brain, pounding and vibrating in terror. I don’t even know why I’m so afraid, or why we’re hiding, but instinct says he’s right.
“Who is that?” I demand.
“Truth is, I don’t know.”
We hear the slam of a truck door, the squeak of an ancient front entrance, and the bell announcing a new customer inside.
Is it the same truck I saw on Route 1 when I spun out? The one that almost hit my bike? The one I saw in front of the house where Chloe was killed? Or another coincidence?
“Stay here,” Levi says, taking a few steps to the side of the building to look around.
“Do you know who it is? Can you see him? Read the license plate?”
“No, no, and no. But we’re not taking any chances.” Turning to his bike, he grabs the other helmet. “We’re outta here.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, I pull on the helmet and climb behind him on the bike, wrapping my arms around his waist. He walks the bike forward, closer to the road, before starting the engine and attracting any attention. Then we take off, going the other way so we don’t pass the front of the store, but that means I can’t check the plate on the back of the truck.
As he turns onto the road, I cling harder, my breath stolen by the thrill and speed.
“If that is the same guy, what is he doing here?” I call into the wind and Levi’s ear.
He shakes his head, revving the engine and then turning in to a gas station less than a quarter-mile away. Pulling the bike behind the pumps, we’re blocked but can still see the truck parked in Kipler’s lot. It’s too far away for us to make out a face, but we’re hiding and looking anyway.
“This has to do with me,” I say, my thoughts focused on that one undeniable truth.
“You don’t know that. You don’t know it’s the same F-150.”
Is that what that truck is? I squint harder. “If it is the same truck and the same guy I’ve been running into, then this is no coincidence.” Good Lord, he’s following me?
Levi puts his hand on my knee, giving it a squeeze and leaning back so that our helmets touch. “You don’t know that it’s the same guy.”
But deep inside, I do. “You should have gone into Kipler’s and gotten a picture of him so we could see if we know him.”
He shakes his head.
“I want to know who he is and what he’s doing here.”
“I can’t let him see me,” he says.
“Why not? Would he recognize you?”
After a long silence, he nods his chin toward the store. “He’s leaving.”
I look, but all I can see is a guy in a hoodie walking briskly to the pickup truck, his face down, looking at a phone, no package in his hands.
All of a sudden the man looks up. His head jerks around and he stares right at us—or right at the pumps hiding us. I gasp as he looks back at his phone, then the gas station.
“What the hell?” Levi whispers.
In a flash, the guy jumps into his truck.
“Hang on,” Levi says.
“Did he see us? How is that possible? Wha—” I swallow the word as the engine revs and we go flying out of the gas station. I stifle a scream by pressing my face into Levi’s back, inhaling leather and gas.
My whole body tilts left, then right, the acceleration zipping through me like I’m on a roller coaster. Oh, how I wish I were.
I manage to lift my head, still not breathing, squeezing Levi with all my strength, and I can’t look anywhere but down. I see the asphalt.… It’s so damn close. Inches. We are inches from being slathered all over that.
I close my eyes and fight the urge to scream as we fly up the ramp to the highway, weaving in and out of traffic at a frightening speed, my whole body vibrating with the engine between my legs.
I can taste the terror, metallic and hot in my mouth. Why is this happening?
The truck. The truck and the driver who knows where I am when I’m somewhere even I