Both witnesses shrugged. “Not much,” one of them said. “It was a black truck and it was a man driving is all I can really tell you for sure.”
“He had dark hair,” the other one said. “Looked like he hadn’t shaved for a while. And I’m pretty sure the truck was a Ford.”
“I don’t suppose either of you caught the license plate?”
“I got a look at it,” the man who had been driving behind Clare said. “But I’m afraid all I can give you are the first two numbers.”
The police officer took down the information. He would pass it along. Maybe it would lead to something.
***
“What did I do?” Clare asked the detectives.
“You had a very close encounter with some very big trees,” Dusty told her.
“Is the car ruined?”
“I’m afraid so,” Erin replied.
Clare sighed. “Richard gave me that car for my birthday. I’d only been driving it for a few weeks. He’s going to be so upset.”
Erin frowned. The woman had suffered a concussion, a spinal contusion, and some nasty cuts and bruises. By some miracle, when the odds were all against her, she was still alive, and the only thing she could think about was that she had totaled the BMW.
“That’s nothing for you to worry about now,” she suggested.
“I guess not,” Clare said, her eyes beginning to close.
“You just concentrate on getting some rest, and feeling better,” Dusty advised, leaning over and patting her hand.
The two detectives turned to go.
“Did he do it on purpose?” Clare asked suddenly, her eyes opening.
“What?” Erin said, turning back.
“The man in the truck -- he looked right at me before he cut me off. Do you think he did it on purpose?”
“We’re not sure yet,” Dusty replied.
Clare stared at the police officers, and there was real fear in her eyes. “Why would he want to do that to me?” she whispered. “I’ve never done anything to deserve him wanting to do that to me.”
She began to cry softly.
“We don’t know why yet,” Erin said. “But I promise you we’re going to find out.”
Clare’s eyes moved from one to the other. “You think it was him, don’t you?” she whispered. “You think it was your stalker.”
“We don’t know for sure.”
“Did you recognize him, did he look familiar?” Dusty asked. “Can you tell us if you’ve ever seen him before?”
Clare tried to remember. “I don’t think so,” she said slowly.
“He didn’t look at all familiar to you?”
Clare closed her eyes and tried to picture him through the pain in her head.
“No,” she said finally. “I really can’t remember ever seeing him before.”
“You’re sure?”
Suddenly, the woman in the neck brace began to giggle like a schoolgirl. “Besides, I don’t think my parents would let me associate with someone they didn’t know. They’re very strict, you see.”
“I beg your pardon?” Erin said frowning uncertainly.
“Oh my, yes,” Clare rambled on. “My daddy would take after any young man who made advances without a proper introduction.”
“It’s the concussion,” Dusty whispered.
Erin nodded. “Do you think you could describe him for us?” she pressed. “If we brought a sketch artist in here, could you tell him what the man looked like?”
“I could try,” Clare said. “Maybe Julie can paint him for you.”
“I’m sorry?” Now it was Dusty’s turn to frown. “Julie wasn’t with you when you went off the road. She couldn’t have seen him.”
“Oh, didn’t I tell you?” Clare murmured. “Julie is taking art classes now. I drive her over to Mercer Island every Saturday morning, and her teacher says she’s doing very well at it.”
And then her eyes closed and she drifted off.
***
“She’s pretty confused,” Erin remarked as they made their way out of the hospital. “I think we’ll have to give her a couple of days.”
“Yeah, she got to running on pretty good there,” Dusty said.
“Meanwhile, we’ve got another problem.”
“I know,” Dusty agreed. “The guy we’ve been looking at never did anything like this before.”
“He taunted from a distance, and then he snatched,” Erin said. “There’s nothing in the files that tells us he tried to run either of the other two off the road or harm them in any way. Or that he ever so much as tried to meet his victims before the night he snatched, raped, and murdered them.”
Dusty sighed. “We’d better talk to Picard.”
***
“He’s thrown us a real curve now, hasn’t he?” the FBI profiler said thoughtfully. “He’s changed his MO . . . but the question is -- why?”
“That’s sort of what we wanted to ask you,” Erin said.
“Well, I suppose it’s always possible that he’s decided to refine his plan, perhaps for the purpose of increasing the torment,” Wendy mused, “but it’s odd that he would actually try to kill her. Scare her, yes, but kill her, I don’t know.” She rubbed her fingers along her chin line. “More than the pursuit, this man gets his high from the endgame, when his victim has to look him in the eye and know that he’s in control, and that he’s going to do whatever he wants with her, and that she’s helpless to stop him. That’s what it’s all about for him -- the power trip.”
“So what happens when he finds out that his little run-her-off-the-road game didn’t end up killing her?” Erin asked.
Wendy shrugged. “Well, if he’s changing his game plan, then it’s anyone’s guess,” she told them. “But if he’s serious, I suppose he’ll try something else.”
Erin looked at Dusty. “How are we going to protect her?”
“I don’t know,” her partner replied. “We can put someone on her round the clock, but he could just wait us out. He knows we won’t be able to do it forever, and he’s very patient, our guy. After all, he’s taken three years to set this up.”
“But we have to do something,” Erin urged. “We can’t just hang her out to dry.”
“You know, there may be another possibility,” Wendy said. “What if he didn’t mean to kill her? What if he just meant to scare
