Reaching for her purse, Stacey found it had flown onto the floor during the debacle and dumped it’s contents all over the floor. She’d just retrieved her files and was fishing around for her cell phone when a tap on the window scared her half out of her wits.
Condensation coated the inside of the window making it difficult to see the face looking in at her. Foreboding whispered over Stacey making her shiver. A dark country road isn’t the place to be meeting new people. She keyed the window down.
“Are you hurt?” The man’s face was half covered by the hat pulled down low over his eyes and the collar he’d turned up against the wind.
“I’m fine. I’ll just call a tow truck.”
“I don’t think you will.” His voice was familiar even if she couldn’t see enough of his face to put a name to it. “There’s no service out here. Why don’t you let me give you a ride, Ms. Hawthorne?”
“Who are you? I never gave you my name.”
He leaned in closer and Stacey gasped when her dome light fell over his face. “You. How did you find me?”
“I’ve been following you. We need to talk. I need that name, Stacey. And now, you’re going to give it to me.”
“I can’t do that.” Fear turned Stacey’s bones to liquid ice.
“Oh, but you will. Now get out of the car.” He pulled the door open and when she didn’t immediately exit, yanked her out into the snow—hands pulling cruelly at her hair. “Don’t fight me on this.” His order had the opposite effect. Stacey went into wildcat mode, kicking and clawing at him. She landed a solid elbow in his face. Blood welled out of his nose to drip into the snow. Shock slackened his hold on her enough that she got a clear shot at kicking him in the misters. At the last minute, he swiveled and the kick went wide.
They grappled furiously until his hands settled on her throat.
“Give me the name.”
Eyes wide, she shook her head and he squeezed harder, gave her a frustrated shake.
“Give it to me.”
It was too late for her now and she knew it. The world grayed around the edges and then went black.
