CHAPTER 23
Colin
The shock of hearing Maria say Lester’s name gave way to a surge of adrenaline, the fight-or-flight reflex kicking in. Colin vaguely heard Lester shout something and the call was disconnected.
Lester.
By then, Colin was already on the move, bursting from the back room and rushing past the bar. He wove around tables and guests even as he hit the redial button.
The phone went straight to voice mail.
Redial.
Voice mail again.
Maria is in trouble.
Behind him, he heard the bartender call his name; waitresses looked over in confusion, and as Colin exploded out the entrance, the manager demanded to know where he was going.
Lester has a gun.
Colin raced around the corner of the building, his feet slipping on the lightly sanded sidewalk. Regaining his footing, he sprinted up the street, already calculating the most direct route to Maria’s parents’ place.
Hoping the roads were clear.
Hoping his car would start.
Please, let it start.
He’d call the police from the car.
He swerved around an elderly couple and rocketed into the street, his car in sight.
Precious seconds ticking away.
Lester could have already shoved her into his car and driven off, just like Gerald Laws did to Cassie…
It was twenty minutes to her parents’.
He would make it in ten. Or fewer.
Maria might already be gone…
At the car now. Jumping in, jamming his keys in the ignition, careful not to flood the engine even as he turned the key hard, and the old Camaro roared to life. Colin peeled away from the curb, his eyes already on the cars ahead.
Closing the gap between his car and those ahead of him, he glanced toward his phone. With one hand he frantically dialed 911 and heard the operator ask the nature of the emergency.
A man with a gun, threatening a woman, he said. Maria Sanchez. A guy named Lester Manning had been stalking her, and he’d surprised her at her parents’…
He couldn’t remember the address offhand, but told the operator Maria’s parents’ names, as well as the street and cross street. Identifying himself, he stated that he was on the way. When the operator urged him to let the police handle the situation without interference, he hung up.
By then he was speeding along, the nose of his car practically on the bumper of the car in front of him. With the next lane blocked by a black Range Rover coasting along at the speed limit, Colin cut across the breakdown lane and zoomed past a cluster of cars before veering back onto the road. He hit the accelerator hard and within a few seconds came up on a pickup truck and a white minivan driving side by side. He passed them in the breakdown lane, too, this time barely slowing.
Reaching the turnoff to the bridge, he jerked the wheel hard, tires squealing.
Racing past more cars in the breakdown lane, he finally made it to a long stretch of road with less traffic and jammed the accelerator to the floor. Adrenaline sharpened his instincts behind the wheel, his body responding in perfect sync with the car.
He hit eighty, ninety, and then a hundred miles an hour and saw a red light ahead, brake lights glowing as cars slowed. Unwilling to slow down, he gunned into a bike lane.
Bursting through a gap at the intersection, still he pressed on, zigzagging around cars and using the bike lane when necessary. Making a turn, he accelerated toward a long line of cars, and with nowhere to go, he cut through a gas station parking lot at close to thirty miles an hour, making people jump out of the way.
The police were on their way… but it still might not be soon enough.
His mind raced frantically, wondering whether Lester had already forced Maria into a car, where he might have taken her…
Or if he had already shot her.
Another turn, this time to the left, and for the first time, he was forced to come to a complete stop at a crowded intersection. He pounded the steering wheel, then held his breath as he plunged into multiple lanes of traffic. He watched as another driver slammed on his brakes, missing him by only inches.
Speeding through a residential neighborhood at sixty miles per hour, he scanned for children or other pedestrians or pets, houses passing in a blur.
Another turn. Tires screeched and the rear of the Camaro fishtailed left and then right, Colin struggling for control. On this block, cars were parked on either side of the street, limiting visibility, and Colin reluctantly slowed the car. Just ahead, he could make out a couple pushing a stroller on the sidewalk; a kid playing catch with his dad on the opposite side of the street; a guy walking his dog with a long retractable leash…
Another turn and a clear road with better visibility; Colin sped up again, finally recognizing the Sanchez neighborhood.
It had taken him nine minutes.
He began to bank into the final turn at top speed… and almost hit a blue Camry that was approaching fast in the middle of the road. Colin swerved automatically to the right, as did the other car, the Camaro fishtailing again, tires screeching. Colin felt another sudden adrenaline surge as his heart hammered. He briefly glimpsed two men in the front seat with startled expressions, their eyes wide as the cars slid past within inches of each other, too close. Way too close, and he gripped the wheel hard, regaining control. Barely.
He was almost there, the Sanchezes’ street up ahead. A single turn to go, and he didn’t hit the brakes until he was almost there.
Fear taking over now.
Praying he wasn’t too late.
Shearing into the turn, he heard a siren behind him. In the rearview mirror, he saw the flashing lights on top of the squad car as it barreled around the same turn he’d just made. Colin slowed only slightly, but the squad car was closing fast and Colin heard a squawk from the loudspeaker.
“Pull over!”
Not a chance, Colin thought. No matter what happens to me.