your
brother," she agreed. "Sorry."
He shook his head and looked tired. "It's
not that simple and even if I explained it to you, there's no reason for you to
believe me. You're just going to have to trust me on this, Maggie. We're going
to Idaho. Come hell or high water, we're getting there. The more you cooperate,
the faster the trip."
"But you're a murderer! I don't want to
help a murderer!"
Cain didn't reply. Instead, his eyes had gone
to the rearview mirror. A cop had turned in from a side street not too far
back. "Maggie," he said calmly, "Maggie, look at the map again.
Find us a safe route to Salem. I want back roads, I want small, side routes. Do
that, find us safe passage, and no one will get hurt."
But he was already too late.
The cop turned on his sirens.
And it began.
----
Chapter 3
« ^ »
" T urn yourself in, it's your only
chance!"
"Like hell!" His foot slammed the
pedal to the floor and the truck leaped forward like a jungle cat freed from
its cage.
"You can't outrun them!" she cried.
He didn't answer, his face remote and grim as his hand hit the horn and stayed
there. A car slowed for a red light. He whipped around it so fast, Maggie fell
against the door like a rag doll and whapped her head against the window.
"Hang on!" he said curtly. "This
is going to get rough."
He floored it through the four-way
intersection, red light and all. Cars screamed and squealed. More horns added
to the cacophony and a crash of metal sounded the crescendo. Police sirens and
shouting pedestrians. Screeching tires and the hoarse cry of her own protest.
Maggie had arrived in hell and it was even louder than she'd expected.
"No, no, no!"
"Shut up!"
A road appeared to the right, narrow and
snaking straight up into the hillside. Maggie grabbed the dash, already knowing
what he would do. His left hand tightened on the wheel. He spared her one
glance, and the stark despair in his eyes sliced through her bleakly.
His gaze returned to the road. At the last
possible moment, when she was so sure he'd pass it by, he slammed on the
brakes, cranked the wheel with one hand and mouthed a silent prayer. The
half-ton truck slid, bucking to escape. His arm bulged, fighting for control.
The moment suspended and man fought machine with no clear stakes for the
winner.
Veins popped up on Cain's forearm, a muscle
jumped in his jaw. With a herculean effort he brutally forced the
two-hundred-horsepower engine to his bidding. Wheels caught. The truck fired up
the residential hillside of private, luxurious homes.
And behind them Maggie heard the sharp squeal
of the police car following suit.
"Get over here," he bit out tersely.
"I need both hands on the wheel."
Her hands shook so hard she could barely get
them around the metal clasp of her seat belt. She'd just pressed down on the
release button when the first blind corner of the narrow road appeared. He
didn't slow, he didn't pause. He hit it hard, and Maggie screamed as she
tumbled across the seat onto his lap.
The truck fishtailed on the way back out of the
turn, almost on two wheels but still too heavy to give up so much ground. It bobbled
then straightened once more.
Maggie planted her hands on Cain's rock-hard
thighs and pushed herself back as fast as she could. Her hair was tangled
across her face and she brushed it away, disoriented and terrified as her eyes
found the road.
Another sharp corner loomed.
"Stop, stop, you're going to kill us
both!"
"Hang on." His right hand landed on
the steering wheel and around they went. This time she grabbed the wheel as
well, needing support as she was buffeted across the cab. She could feel the
tension of the vehicle, the battle of man against torque. And as they came
around the corner she saw a black-trimmed white sign announcing, Caution:
Children at Play.
"Oh, God," she moaned. "Oh,
God."
Cain's eyes glanced to the rearview mirror. The
police car was still behind them, its powerful engine keeping pace. Blind
drives and
brother," she agreed. "Sorry."
He shook his head and looked tired. "It's
not that simple and even if I explained it to you, there's no reason for you to
believe me. You're just going to have to trust me on this, Maggie. We're going
to Idaho. Come hell or high water, we're getting there. The more you cooperate,
the faster the trip."
"But you're a murderer! I don't want to
help a murderer!"
Cain didn't reply. Instead, his eyes had gone
to the rearview mirror. A cop had turned in from a side street not too far
back. "Maggie," he said calmly, "Maggie, look at the map again.
Find us a safe route to Salem. I want back roads, I want small, side routes. Do
that, find us safe passage, and no one will get hurt."
But he was already too late.
The cop turned on his sirens.
And it began.
----
Chapter 3
« ^ »
" T urn yourself in, it's your only
chance!"
"Like hell!" His foot slammed the
pedal to the floor and the truck leaped forward like a jungle cat freed from
its cage.
"You can't outrun them!" she cried.
He didn't answer, his face remote and grim as his hand hit the horn and stayed
there. A car slowed for a red light. He whipped around it so fast, Maggie fell
against the door like a rag doll and whapped her head against the window.
"Hang on!" he said curtly. "This
is going to get rough."
He floored it through the four-way
intersection, red light and all. Cars screamed and squealed. More horns added
to the cacophony and a crash of metal sounded the crescendo. Police sirens and
shouting pedestrians. Screeching tires and the hoarse cry of her own protest.
Maggie had arrived in hell and it was even louder than she'd expected.
"No, no, no!"
"Shut up!"
A road appeared to the right, narrow and
snaking straight up into the hillside. Maggie grabbed the dash, already knowing
what he would do. His left hand tightened on the wheel. He spared her one
glance, and the stark despair in his eyes sliced through her bleakly.
His gaze returned to the road. At the last
possible moment, when she was so sure he'd pass it by, he slammed on the
brakes, cranked the wheel with one hand and mouthed a silent prayer. The
half-ton truck slid, bucking to escape. His arm bulged, fighting for control.
The moment suspended and man fought machine with no clear stakes for the
winner.
Veins popped up on Cain's forearm, a muscle
jumped in his jaw. With a herculean effort he brutally forced the
two-hundred-horsepower engine to his bidding. Wheels caught. The truck fired up
the residential hillside of private, luxurious homes.
And behind them Maggie heard the sharp squeal
of the police car following suit.
"Get over here," he bit out tersely.
"I need both hands on the wheel."
Her hands shook so hard she could barely get
them around the metal clasp of her seat belt. She'd just pressed down on the
release button when the first blind corner of the narrow road appeared. He
didn't slow, he didn't pause. He hit it hard, and Maggie screamed as she
tumbled across the seat onto his lap.
The truck fishtailed on the way back out of the
turn, almost on two wheels but still too heavy to give up so much ground. It bobbled
then straightened once more.
Maggie planted her hands on Cain's rock-hard
thighs and pushed herself back as fast as she could. Her hair was tangled
across her face and she brushed it away, disoriented and terrified as her eyes
found the road.
Another sharp corner loomed.
"Stop, stop, you're going to kill us
both!"
"Hang on." His right hand landed on
the steering wheel and around they went. This time she grabbed the wheel as
well, needing support as she was buffeted across the cab. She could feel the
tension of the vehicle, the battle of man against torque. And as they came
around the corner she saw a black-trimmed white sign announcing, Caution:
Children at Play.
"Oh, God," she moaned. "Oh,
God."
Cain's eyes glanced to the rearview mirror. The
police car was still behind them, its powerful engine keeping pace. Blind
drives and
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