Winter's Destiny (15 page)

Was he the one who’d broken into the house, threatening to hurt Jamie? Amy recalled the timber of his voice outside a few hours ago.
Are you hurt
?
She couldn’t be sure it was the same.

She had looked right at him.
The scar. Where is he now? What will he do next
?

Glancing out the window, Amy could see the sun low over the Pacific. Dallas had left her a message to wait for him. She rummaged in her purse, found the iPhone, and speed-dialed Dallas. Again the call went directly to voice mail. She tried his office. Debbie was on a meal break and the duty officer told her the sheriff was off duty. Then, Amy remembered Dallas saying he would be in Portland today, seeing Maya. Feeling suddenly very alone, Amy dropped the cell back into her purse.

She sat by her grandmother’s side a while longer, decided to leave. She’d go directly to the cabin. As long as she wasn’t followed from the lot, she’d be fine.

Not wanting to tempt fate by walking into the parking lot alone, she located two security guards and asked them to accompany her to the Jeep. It was quiet outside. No one seemed to take notice as the trio made their way down the walk and into the lot. Amy glanced around, and seeing nothing unusual, she climbed into the Jeep and pulled out quickly, heading down the hill and south onto the coast highway in the direction of Dallas’s cabin. No one followed. The sun was low over the misty ocean. It was one of those clear evenings when the sky burst into reds and oranges and shared the intense colors with the sea.

As she drove, she re-constructed the incident at Somerset Meadows and realized with a shock that it had been a
setup. It was staged to scare me, to warn me that they had their eyes on me, and my grandmother.
Amy twisted in her seat and her hands
went suddenly cold.

Was Dan’s disappearance related in some way? What if he and Jamie were caught up in this? After all, the sheriff’s office had no leads on them, and that in itself was unsettling
.

Feeling increasingly vulnerable, she glanced in the rearview mirror. No one was directly behind her, but there was a car a quarter mile back. Accelerating, she passed an old truck, and swung back into the southbound lane. A minute later the car did the same, making her uneasy. She passed by a brightly lit pullout. No other vehicles were there, so Amy didn’t dare stop. She checked her mirror again. The car, now visible under the bright lights, was a black BMW, and it was directly behind her.

Surprisingly, there was very little traffic, enabling her to accelerate and put considerable distance between them. The Jeep dug deeply into the turns. Moments later, the BMW caught up and stayed right behind her.

She was bearing down fast on an old pickup that crawled down the highway. There was no time to brake so she swerved around it, almost shearing the side of the rusty truck as she skimmed past. Before she was clear of the truck, a car rounded a curve from the opposite direction. They were positioned head on.

Amy pushed harder on the accelerator and as she did so, the pickup increased speed, blocking her re-entry into the southbound lane.
Damn him
! The on-coming car loomed just ahead.
Hurry!
She put the pedal to the floorboards and the Jeep jumped ahead far enough for her to squeeze in front of the pickup. It braked sharply, horn blaring.

Heart racing, Amy looked in the mirror. The pickup had lost speed and the BMW remained behind it. For a while she was alone on the road and she told herself the whole thing was an incredible fluke. Then the BMW crept up behind her.

This time Amy slowed down and pulled onto the narrow shoulder, hoping the car would pass. Instead, it dropped back. She reduced her speed to 30 m.p.h. Two cars passed them. The BMW dropped back further.

Amy watched the mirror for another overtaking vehicle. A small car was approaching. She hit the gas and the Jeep fishtailed onto the highway in front of the car. A horn blared. Amy sped south on the snaking highway not daring to slow down until she was certain that she was alone on the road.

The worst section of the coast road was ahead. Both lanes narrowed as the highway cut into the rock bluff high above the Pacific. Two hundred feet below, the ocean surged around the rocks creating a churning cauldron known as The Devil’s Bath. The sharp turns forced her to slow more than she wanted, but the BMW did not catch up, and she felt some relief.

As she approached a hairpin curve in the road, an eighteen-wheeler rounded the bend from the opposite direction. It swung wide, encroaching on her lane. Suddenly, it was directly in front of her. Amy braked hard, expecting it to veer back into its lane, but it didn’t. It was coming right at her.
They were going to collide!
The image of her parent’s mangled car flashed in her mind.
Dear God. No!

Amy swerved hard left, into the oncoming lane, trying to squeeze between the truck and the rapidly approaching bluff. She prayed no one was coming. For a second she lost control. She clipped the side of the truck, sending the back end of the Jeep into a wild swing. The bumper tore into the bluff going into the curve, and the Jeep skidded crazily. Amy turned into the skid, over-reacted, and ended up sliding the wrong way down the highway. The tires lost their grip on the pavement and the Jeep struck the embankment, the impact spinning it around ninety degrees. It bounced to a stop facing the wrong direction.

Amy watched, horrified as the eighteen-wheeler collided head-on into the mountainside, metal and glass exploding in all directions. It bounced off, careened left, and tilted crazily before breaking through the guardrail. Then, it disappeared silently over the edge.

At the same second a car rounded the curve, horn blaring. The driver swung wide to avoid hitting her. Quickly, Amy re-started the Jeep, backed it around, and pulled onto the thin shoulder, on the ocean side. She jumped out, ran to the guardrail, and looked down.

The truck had impaled itself on the rocks, pieces of cab submerged in the foaming sea. If anyone was inside, there was nothing that could be done now.

A car whizzed by, the back draft blowing Amy’s hair across her face. Turning into the wind to pull it from her face, she glimpsed the BMW. It was coming right at her!

Amy grabbed the broken guardrail and flung herself over it, her body flying out over the edge. She slammed into the gravel incline. She dug the toes of her sneakers into the loose rock. They gripped momentarily, then her feet began to slide. Using her knees to stop the downward momentum, Amy tried to pull herself up. Her right foot found a small perch and she used it to propel herself back up onto the rail.

The BMW was still on the wrong side of the road, moving toward her. Tires squealed as an Expedition loomed down upon it. The car diverted back into its own lane too late. The Expedition swerved hard, its side body striking the front of the car.

Using the distraction, Amy raced for the Jeep, dove inside, turned the key, and with tires screaming, she peeled from the scene. She shook so hard she could barely drive.

The Coast Highway curved inland, away from the sea, and descended into the river valley, now shadowed by tall trees and a gloomy sunset. Amy glanced nervously in the rear view mirror. Still no sign of the black BMW. Gripping the wheel with icy hands, she swerved onto the exit ramp, and sped south across the overpass toward the river flats. She was going so fast and was so distracted by what just happened, that she almost lost the Jeep on the curve.

Her heart pounded like a rock in her chest. One thing was clear. She was no longer being warned. She was now the target! A vile sense of danger sent cold fear surging through her bloodstream. It was hard to breathe.
No! This can’t be happening.

A glint in the rear view mirror grabbed her attention—headlights. The BMW! It careened down upon her at perilous speed. Before Amy had time to react, it struck the rear of her speeding Jeep. Amy fought to keep the truck on the road, but it was too late. The jeep shot over the embankment. The road disappeared. For seconds all she could see was the darkening sky. Then the Jeep pointed downward. A wide ditch opened up below. At the speed the Jeep was going, the impact would be fatal!

She threw open the truck door and leapt.

Everything became a blur as her body hurtled through the air. Then she dropped like a stone toward the soft, damp earth on the far side of the ditch. Even so, she hit like a sack of rocks, knocking the air out of her lungs. She panicked, unable to breathe. Pain ripped through her crumpled body, nauseating her. As she lay prone, fighting for air, she watched—like a spectator at a bad movie—as the front end of the Jeep embedded itself into the far bank.

There was an eerie sound of twisting metal. The hood crumpled and flew into the air. Then the windshield blew sending dirt, dust, and glass exploding around the truck. Finally the truck dropped into the muddy ditch, the frame twisted miserably, windows gone.

A strange muffled silence filled her ears. Then blackness. From its depths, she became acutely aware of approaching danger. A car door slammed. Amy lifted her head. The BMW was parked on the side of the road. A man lumbered through the tall grass toward the Jeep. She had to get away. But first, she had to get up. Her knees buckled repeatedly as she staggered into the brush. She wouldn’t get far like this; she needed to find a place to hide. It appeared the driver hadn’t seen her, so for now she had a small advantage.

Then, in the distance came an angry howl. The sound sent fingers of ice down her back. It was feral; the most terrifying sound she had heard in her life.
Get up. Get away!

She tried to stand, but her right leg refused to support her. The left one sent hot spikes of pain shooting up her spine. She found a broken tree branch on the ground and used it as a cane. Behind her, heavy footsteps crashed through the undergrowth.

In the twilight she saw a small bluff and limped into its shadow, searching for a place to hide. Nothing. Loping on, she tried in vain to pick up speed. The heavy footfalls grew closer. Too close. She fell behind a stump, pressed her body between the roots, and pulled branches and ground cover over her, hoping the thin foliage would provide enough cover. She held her breath and fought down the panic of being in such a small space. The footsteps stopped. He was close. Very close. She could hear him panting and cursing. She could smell him—acrid and foul.

His hollow voice inflicted a suffocating terror of its own. “Ha! Bitch! Now we’ll see what you’re made of.”

Dallas pulled in front of his daughter’s new home—a stately three-story residence on a hedged acreage overlooking the river and valley below. Thick front pillars made Dallas think of the White House. The family name was etched into the entrance post. It may as well have read
money,
as far as Dallas was concerned. “What’s it like to be rich?” he asked Maya, driving around the curved drive and parking under the portico.

“Don’t start on that, Dad. He’s no different than anyone else—”she grinned, “except for the money.”

“Yeah right.” Dallas reached across to give Maya a goodbye hug. “Next week, same time?”

“No way. You’re supposed to pick me up at three, remember?”

“Don’t tell your mom.”

Maya threw her arms around his neck and squeezed hard. “Love you, Dad.”

“Love you too, Munchkin.”

Dallas continued around the circular drive and then headed back across town toward Vera Johnstone’s house. Something had bothered him when he was there earlier. The entire time he had been on Vera Johnstone’s porch, he had sensed a presence behind her. Something wasn’t right.

Turning down her street, he looked for a parking place well away from her house and then tucked his pickup between two cars. No vehicles parked directly in front of the Johnstone house, making him think that whoever was in the house with her was either without a vehicle or, it was parked in the garage. He tucked his identification under the seat, as he had no jurisdiction in Portland. Not wanting to be seen in the dark, he turned off the pickup’s interior light, got out, and quietly pushed the door closed. He strode down the street, turned up the driveway, and followed a sidewalk along the side of the oversized garage to where it joined the house. When he was at the house earlier, he’d noticed a side window on the garage wall.

Dallas flipped on his flashlight and directed its powerful beam onto the two cars parked in the garage. One was a Jag, the other a Bentley. The Jag’s plate wasn’t visible from his angle, but he was able jot down the Bentley’s license number. It was his bet that the Jag belonged to Mrs. Johnstone, but who owned the Bentley?

Suddenly, the door beside him burst open and he stared down the dark hole of a .38. Two cold black eyes were leveled at Dallas.

“We shoot intruders where I come from,” the man spat. His words shot spittle. “Who are you and why are you here?” A bony finger was on the trigger.

The man inspected Dallas coldly and Dallas did likewise. The man panted and his teeth snapped together repeatedly. A tic, Dallas guessed. “You first,” Dallas replied taking a step forward.

“Don’t come any closer!” The voice was powerful, belying the frail stature. The man was in his sixties, almost completely bald, sloping shoulders, concave chest, thin wrists, and skeletal hands. But the dark eyes were cold and calculating. He pursed his lips. “There’s something about you—“

With one quick move, Dallas grabbed the barrel of the gun and yanked it upward, out of the man’s grasp. “Yeah, you too,” Dallas said checking the clip and pointing the pistol at the man’s kneecap.

The bald man looked down at the gun, then back up at Dallas. No fear or emotion showed in the eyes, but his teeth snapped rapidly now. “You won’t shoot. I can see it in your eyes. You’re Mr. Super Citizen. One of the high and mighty.” More spittle. “I have no use for your type.” With that, he stepped back through the doorway, into the house. The door slammed behind him.