CHAPTER
THIRTY-SEVEN
The police arrivedin a blur of lights and clipped voices, their cruisers angled carefully along the narrow shoulder.
Andi stood a few steps back from the bus, wrapped in a borrowed blanket she hadn’t realized she needed until someone draped it over her shoulders.
The air smelled sharp—hot metal, ocean salt, burnt rubber.
She turned away from the activity and looked out at the landscape instead.
Mountains rose behind them, layered and quiet, their ridgelines softened by haze. Below, the Pacific stretched out in a vast, restless sprawl, waves breaking against rock as if nothing extraordinary had happened at all.
The beauty and ugliness of everything pressed against her chest, heavy and sad in a way she couldn’t quite explain.
They’d come so close to dying, she thought. And the world just kept being beautiful.
Behind her, Rupert’s voice sliced through the calm.
“I don’t care if it’s premium, platinum, or blessed by the pope himself,” he barked into his phone. “We need a replacement bus. Immediately. Do you haveany ideawhat our liability exposure is right now?”
She didn’t turn. She didn’t need to see his face to picture it.
Near the front of the bus, Duke stood with Ranger and Jack, answering questions from a CHP officer. Duke’s posture was steady, controlled. But Andi knew him well enough to recognize the tension threaded through every movement.
Ranger spoke occasionally, precise and economical. Jack gestured toward the undercarriage, shaking his head as he explained—again—how he’d checked everything himself that morning.
Andi believed him.
She felt Mariella’s presence before she heard her voice. “You okay?”
“I think so.” Andi’s hands were still trembling, but the shaking had slowed. “That was too close.”
Leaving Anastasia with Karen for a moment, Simmy stepped in beside them, her gaze flicking once toward the bus, then to the police. “This wasn’t an accident, was it?”
Andi met Mariella’s eyes. Saw her own conclusion reflected there.
“No,” Andi said. “It wasn’t.”
Mariella exhaled slowly. “Someone wanted to scare us.”
Or worse, Andi thought. But she didn’t say the words out loud.
“I should have never suggested this highway,” Mariella continued. “I just thought some of you might enjoy it. I mean, I know Alaska is breathtaking, but California is gorgeous also. I wanted to show off my state.”
Had someone known about their plan to take this highway? Was that why they’d rigged the brakes? If this had happened on the interstate, it would have still been dangerous. But not like on this road.
Who had they told?
Then Andi remembered. Mariella had mentioned taking this route at one of their events.
That means thousands of people knew.
She fought a frown.
Rupert finally lowered his phone and turned toward the group, his face pale, his composure hanging by a thread.
“Okay.” He clapped his hands once with forced energy. “Good news and bad news.”
