Stomach churning, Tricia's neck cracked as she whirled to look, but the heel of Mike's hand caught her shoulder with a painful punch. 'Ange?' Tricia shouted.
'I'm okay, I'm okay!' Angelica cried, but the fear in her voice said she was anything but.
Tricia's eyes darted to the rearview mirror. She could just make out Angelica's bloody left hand clutching the slash in her light-colored sweater.
'I'll cut her again, only with more precision, if you don't start the car. Do it now!'
Tricia tore her gaze from the mirror, fumbled to put the key into the ignition, turned it until the engine caught.
'If you don't want to see your sister's throat cut, I suggest you put the car in gear and head north to Route 101,' Doris ordered.
Tricia glanced askance at Mike, hoping her pleading gaze would be met with some shred of compassion, but there was none. And why would he show that emotion for her when he'd shown Winnie no mercy and treated his own mother so callously?
Tricia turned her gaze back to the empty rain-soaked street. All the other shops had closed; the only beacon of light was the Bookshelf Diner. Even if she blasted the horn, no one was likely to hear or even pay attention to the car as it passed. Their one ace in the hole was Bob Kelly. Had Angelica reached him or his voice mail, or had she simply been bluffing?
Then again, Mr. Everett knew of their suspicions. If they turned up missing, he could point the law in Mike's and Doris's direction. That is, if Sheriff Adams would even listen to him. And if he spoke, would he become the next murder victim?
Stalling, Tricia fumbled with the buttons and switches on the dash until she found and turned on the headlights. Next, she checked the mirrors before pulling out of the parking space and driving slowly down Main Street, heading out of the village. Within a minute the glow of friendly street lamps was behind them, the inky darkness broken only by the car's headlights.
'Turn here and go straight until you reach Route 101,' Doris directed.
'Then where?'
'You'll head for Interstate 93.'
'Where are we going?' Angelica asked, uncomprehending.
Tricia could guess. The interstate cut through the White Mountain National Forest, the perfect place to dump a couple of bodies where they wouldn't be found for months-if ever.
No one spoke for a long minute.
Angelica cleared her throat. 'Does anyone have a handkerchief or something? All this blood is ruining my sweater. Not that I could ever find anyone in this town who can repair cashmere, even if they could get the stains out.'
Tricia exhaled a shaky breath. Was Angelica's claustrophobia acting up, or was she simply in shock? Either she didn't realize what was going to happen to them, or she was in deep denial.
Time was running out. If they got as far as the interstate, they were as good as dead.
'My foot's still bleeding, you know,' Angelica went on. 'I think there might be a piece of glass in it.'
Mike smashed his fist against the dashboard. 'Will you shut up!'
Tricia clenched the steering wheel. Route 101 was only a couple of miles ahead. If she was going to save them, it had to be in the next few minutes-and she could only think of one option: crashing the car.
She'd read too many mysteries to think of disobeying Mike's or Doris's direct orders-Angelica's bleeding shoulder was proof of that. Still, she couldn't remember any fictional scenario from a book that would keep herself and Angelica alive.
The most famous car crash she could recall was that of Princess Diana in a tunnel in Paris. The one passenger wearing a seat belt had lived-the others didn't. Only Tricia wore a seat belt. If she crashed the car, would Angelica survive? How fast did she need to go to incapacitate her captors without permanently maiming her sister?
The headlights flashed on a mile marker.
The dashboard clock's green numerals changed.
Not much time left.
'What happened, Doris? Did Mike witness Deirdre's murder and hit you up for money?'
'None of your business,' she snapped.
'He didn't have to see the murder,' Angelica said. 'I'll bet he planned it.'
Collusion! Suddenly, it all made sense. 'You sold Doris the million-dollar insurance policy, and when she told you her sister was dying and she'd have to change the beneficiary-'
'All very neat, really,' Doris said. 'It solved all our problems.'
'Not Mike's. His mother has regained her memory.'
'I'm having her moved from St. Godelive's in the morning. She'll go right back to loving her nightly mug of cocoa tomorrow night.'
Not with Roger Livingston looking after her affairs, but Tricia wasn't going to voice that fact.
'Why did you throw the rock through my window?' Tricia asked Mike.
He laughed. 'Just to keep things interesting.'
'Did you really think I was going out with Russ Smith?'
'It crossed my mind.'
'Oh please,' Angelica groused.
'And what's that?' Doris asked.
'Why did you set the Cookery on fire and disable the smoke alarms when you had every intension of keeping it open with 'Deirdre' as the owner? You could've destroyed everything. Or did you have the contents heavily insured as well?'
'The place wouldn't have burned. That carpet is flame-retardant. I know, I paid a small fortune for it.'
'Stop all this yapping and turn on the defroster. Can't you see the windshield's steaming up?' Mike carped, and rubbed at the glass with his free hand.
Tricia glanced down, couldn't find the control. Instead, she fumbled for the window button on the door's arm, pressing it. The window started to open.
'I said turn on the defroster!'
'I don't know where it is!' She held the button until the window was completely open. The rain poured in and she eased her foot from the accelerator.
Mike leaned closer, searching the dashboard. 'Doris, where the hell is it?'
'I don't know. This is Deirdre's car. Keep pushing buttons until you find it.'
With Mike preoccupied, Tricia knew her window of opportunity was short. Headlights cut through the gloom on the road up ahead. If she could sideswipe the vehicle, or merely scare them into thinking she would, they were sure to call the sheriff. If she didn't kill them all first.
'Now or never,' she breathed and jammed her foot down on the accelerator.
Mike fell back against his seat, the knife flying from his grasp, disappearing onto the darkened floor.
Tricia aimed straight for the oncoming car.
'What are you, crazy?' Angelica screamed from behind.
Tricia risked a glance in the rearview mirror, but Angelica wasn't talking to her; she wrestled with Doris in the backseat-trying to disarm her.
Mike's hands fumbled around Tricia's legs, yanking her foot from the accelerator, grappling for the missing knife.
The wail of the approaching car's horn cut through the rain pounding on the roof and Angelica's screams. Tricia steered to the right, barely missing the oncoming car.
Mike grabbed the steering wheel, jerking it left, and Tricia jammed her foot on the brake, sending Mike flying. The car hydroplaned on the slick, wet road, sliding sideways.
Tricia wrestled with the wheel, but the car had a mind of its own, hit the guardrail, and went airborne, sailing
