Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 136247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 681(@200wpm)___ 545(@250wpm)___ 454(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 681(@200wpm)___ 545(@250wpm)___ 454(@300wpm)
“Just left Neuman’s Dairy, where I dropped the goats off for a big job. It’s off Highway—”
“I know where it’s at, woman. You’re only a few miles from the Purple Bobcat. Head there. Go inside and tell Grady I’m on my way.”
“The Purple—Quinn, I can’t. I have Owl with me. He’ll get overheated if I leave him in the truc—”
“Bar, Tory. Grady’s not stupid, he’ll let you bring Owl inside.”
“But—”
“Grady won’t care. Get your sweet ass over there now and quit arguin’,” he snaps, this growly command in his voice that’d be fun and sexy if I weren’t being tailed by a bad horror movie monster. “You’re gonna take a left on the next crossroad. It runs off almost parallel to the highway, but it’s a service road that runs right by the bar and comes out on the highway again, you copy?”
“Uh, copy.” I glance in the mirror. The red torpedo on wheels chugs along. “I think I know the road.”
“Good. It comes out just half a mile from Grady’s place.” He draws in a harsh breath. “Don’t hang up. Tell me if he gets any closer. Have you called the cops?”
“No. I thought I’d better try you first. He’s still behind me. Not close enough that I can see his plate. He’s about...three or maybe four car lengths back.”
“Did you see this guy? What’s he look like?”
“Yeah, he pulled up while I was leaving, and got out for a few minutes, asking about the goats.”
“What does he look like, Peach? Describe him.”
Like Goliath took a brickbat to the face!
But I can’t just say that.
He’ll probably wonder if I’m losing my mind if I try to describe what a stack of freak this guy is without Quinn seeing it for himself.
Some kind of beeping comes through my phone.
“Quinn? What’s that noise? Is that you?”
“I put you on speaker so I can text Grady. Telling him to meet you in the parking lot now. I’ll be there in a few. Now tell me what he looks like, darlin’. Hair color. Height. Tattoos. How old is he?”
If he’s texting Grady, I won’t need to say he’s on his way. A thought that makes me worry.
“Don’t text and drive!” I hiss, knowing my warning won’t stop him from doing it. I glance at the mirror again. “Um, well, I’m not real good at guessing ages. Thirties, maybe. Around your age. Short hair, or maybe bald. I couldn’t see any hair. He’s wearing a baseball cap and a long-sleeved flannel shirt in this heat. Pretty odd.”
“Got it. Anything else?”
“His boots were laced up and higher than usual. Not really work boots, but more like motorcycle riding boots or something. Black. They looked new. He’s slender, muscular, and—oh, yeah—tall. So tall, it’s scary.”
“Tall?” he echoes numbly. “You’re sure? What else?”
“Oh, yeah. And he’s not exactly skinny, but not a bodybuilder either.” Not buff like you, but of course I can’t say that. “He had narrow eyes—couldn’t get a read on their color—and scruffy whiskers like he hasn’t shaved in a couple days.”
“Any tattoos? Very important,” he growls.
“I didn’t see any, but I wasn’t looking. And he was pretty buttoned up under that flannel outfit.” I click on my blinker to turn sharply, passing the sign for the upcoming road.
“Is that your blinker? Are you turning onto the county road?”
“It’s coming up.”
“Is he turning, too?” Quinn asks, each question one more machine gun bullet after another.
“His blinker isn’t on,” I answer, glancing in the mirror.
“Is he by himself, Peach?”
“I...I think so. Never saw another vehicle, anyway, and I can’t see anyone else in the pickup.” I slow, just enough to make the corner.
The Chevy slows to a crawl, too.
My stomach sinks as I tell Quinn, “Looks like he’s taking the corner, too. Coming up right behind me.”
“Shit. It’s all right, darlin’. The road’s only a mile long, then just half a mile more to Grady’s place. You can do it. Push that truck as hard as it can go, speeding laws be damned. No harm in getting the cops’ attention right now if they’re around.”
I take a deep breath.
My shaky fingers turn white at their knuckles as I grip the wheel.
Dear God.
If I wasn’t on the phone with Quinn, I’d be a basket case by now. I’m sure of it.
“Where are you?” I ask. “Are you close?”
“On my way.”
I smile at that, how I already knew.
“Where, Quinn?”
“In town, just coming out the other side. Is he closing in on your ass? Making any moves to try to ram you?”
Ram me? Holy hell.
That’s action movie stuff. The thought never even crossed my mind, and I hold in a breath as my eyes flick back.
“No. He’s still three or four car lengths behind the trailer.” The sign telling me the highway is coming up comes into view. “I’m almost to the highway again, right by the Bobcat, I think.”