Chapter 3

The mechanic, a man with grease-stained hands and tired eyes, walked out from the bay. He wiped his hands on a rag, his expression grim.

"Ma'am," he said, looking at my mother. "You weren't planning on getting on the interstate in this, were you?"

"Why? What's wrong?" Sarah asked, her voice trembling.

He pointed a grimy finger toward the car. "Your brake lines have been cut. Clean through. And your fuel line has a slow leak. One hard stop at high speed, the line would've ruptured, sprayed fuel all over a hot engine... you wouldn't have just crashed. The whole car would've gone up in a fireball."

The air left my mother's lungs. Her face went pale, a mask of pure horror. The world she had built around Frank, the excuses, the willful blindness, it all shattered in that one moment.

"Cut?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. "But... who would...?"

She didn't finish the sentence. She didn't have to. Her eyes met mine, and she saw the answer there.

Her hand shook as she pulled out her phone. She dialed Frank's number. He had stayed in the car, fuming.

As the phone began to ring, my eyes scanned the dusty road.

And then I saw it.

A distinctive, beat-up red pickup truck. The one I'd seen in my memories, the one that had followed us on the highway before the crash.

Jessica's truck.

It was parked half a mile down, partially hidden behind a billboard. She was watching. Waiting for us to get back on the road.

My mother was stepping out of the small office, phone pressed to her ear. "Frank, the mechanic said..."

The red truck's engine roared to life.

"Mom, get back!" I screamed.

But it was too late.

Jessica had seen us. She knew the plan was blown.

The truck shot forward, tires spitting gravel. It wasn't aiming for the car. It was aiming for my mother.

I watched in slow-motion horror as the massive steel bumper slammed into her.

There was a sickening thud, a sound of breaking bones that would haunt me forever.

My mother was thrown through the air like a rag doll, landing in a heap on the greasy pavement.

The red truck didn't even slow down. It fishtailed onto the road and sped away, leaving a cloud of dust and my screams hanging in the desert air.