feeling of dread washed over him.
“I’m going to enjoy killing you, Janus,” it said.
Kate pulled up outside the building and Quinn rushed outside.
(Gas it.) Quinn thought as he jumped into the car.
Kate tore through the streets of Leesburg and they both hoped the police had better things to do than watch for speeders.
(It’s Buzz.) Quinn thought, as the car turned on to Route 7 toward Ashburn, where the business editor lived.
(He was at the hotel) Kate thought. (But that doesn’t mean he’s Lord Halloween.)
(It means there is a damn good shot he is. And Janus was heading right towards him.)
(PLEASE SOMEONE HELP ME)
The voice in their heads jarred them both and nearly caused Kate to drive off the road.
(What was that?) Quinn thought.
(That was Janus.)
In her mind, she could see him. He was being moved from his car and he was in incredible pain. There was blood. She had to fight to keep her own car on the road.
(He’s dying.)
Janus turned around while driving and looked at the back seat, bracing himself for a blow. But there was nobody there.
“Fuck,” he said, and faced the road again as he continued driving. His heart was pounding in his chest. He immediately reached around for his cell phone.
But it was not there.
“Fuck me,” he said again.
The bastard had taken it. Janus could not remember locking his car, he had been so concerned about what was going on in the house.
He pulled the note off his mirror and slammed on the accelerator again. He would head straight for the police station. If someone was going to jump out at him from his trunk or somewhere, let it be there.
He looked in the rearview mirror and felt his heart skip a beat.
A car was behind him. And not just anyone’s. It was Buzz’s beat-up BMW and it was gaining on him. The sun reflected off the car’s windshield, so Janus could not make out who was behind the wheel, but he had a feeling it wouldn’t be someone who wanted to stop and chat.
“Fuck you, then,” Janus said and sped up. He flew through a stop sign and turned right abruptly, narrowly missing a parked car on the street.
The key is to stay calm and get to the police station. There was no way whoever was behind him would think of going there. He hoped.
He rounded another corner and noticed that while the car behind him was gaining, it did not seem to be trying to overtake him. For the life of him, Janus could not figure out why.
Janus tried honking his horn-though he did not see other cars on the road. Everyone was hiding from the guy that was behind him. But maybe someone would hear the noise and call the police. No sense stopping at any of the houses on the way. There was no guarantee they would be home, and even if they were, no guarantee they would let him in or not be killed as well.
Without even attempting to brake, he swung out onto Reservoir Road and started to pray. He had gas, he thought, looking at the meter.
The key was to stay ahead of him and to stay calm.
But the BMW had gained on him and was now very close. If he braked at all, the car would ram into him. Janus floored it. If a cop pulled him over for speeding, that would be a good thing.
He had just six miles to Route 7. There were bound to be other cars on Rt. 7-someone who could help him.
With new fear, he saw the curve ahead. Since he came to this county, he had hated this curve. It was the kind where you had to slow down a lot or risk flying into the ditch. Janus had covered at least four accidents here and none of them were pretty.
But if he had to slow down, so did his pursuer, right?
He reluctantly pressed the brake.
Nothing happened.
“Fuck a duck,” he said. He hit the brake again. The car didn’t slow. He felt no resistance and instead saw the curve coming up at a rapid 60 miles an hour.
Behind him he noticed that the BMW had dropped back.
And then Janus knew what had happened. The killer had cut his brake lines. In his mind, he saw the image of a man underneath his car cutting his brake line as Janus stood on Buzz’s back patio.
Janus pumped the peddles and watched the speedometer crawl down. It was 45 miles an hour now on a curve recommended at 15. He would just have to hope he was slow enough.
He braced himself and tried to take the turn as best he could. At first, he thought he might make it. But his Jeep leaned heavily to the right and then he could feel it tipping.
At least I’ll probably die in the crash, he thought.
The Jeep ran off the road, hit the ditch and flipped on its side.
Janus came to moments afterward. He was hanging in his seatbelt, the windshield shattered and he thought he could taste blood on his tongue.
Please think I’m dead, Janus thought. He hung there attempting to look lifeless, wondering if soon it would not be an act.
He heard footsteps approaching the car, heard the car creak as someone climbed up on it and opened the door.
“You almost made it, Janus,” the voice said.
Janus felt a hand reach across him and undo his seatbelt.
He was insanely tempted to look at the man, but he didn’t. He had to appear to be dead. It was the only thing that could save him.
“But close doesn’t quite count, does it?” he said.
Please think I’m dead, Janus thought again.
He could almost sense the man looking at him.
“Hmmm, maybe it got you worse than I thought,” the voice said. “Or maybe you’re just faking. Like you faked all those photos.”
Janus felt a sharp pain in his leg as the man dug in a knife.
He didn’t think quickly enough to stop himself from crying out.
“There, I thought so,” the man said, and the knife cut deeper.
The pain was excruciating. Janus’ eyes flew open and he looked at the man already pulling him out.
Janus did not believe his eyes.
“No,” he said, but it came out as a whisper.
Janus felt in no condition to resist. He tried to move, but every limb seemed to be in shock.
The man hefted Janus up and then lowered his body down to the ground away from the Jeep. The pain was unbelievable.
“You can blame this one on your friends,” the man said. “You weren’t on my list until they started avoiding me. It hurt my feelings, Janus. And I think you are the right way to send a message about this.”
Janus wanted to sit up, but the man began dragging Janus across the ditch.
Janus felt himself slipping into unconsciousness. He must have been hurt worse than he thought. A car, Janus thought. He would need a car now. Maybe someone would come by.
But there was nothing.
I’m going to die in broad daylight, Janus thought.
But the man was still talking.
