Her phone buzzed again, and she glanced at the screen. A text from her mother simply read,
Please consider coming home for Christmas. We’ll cover the cost.
The words were followed by a travel website.
Home for Christmas?
The thought of going home filled her with equal parts joy and dread.
She wanted to see her sisters, to hug her mother. To give her father back his you’ll-never-make-it check.
But was she ready to face them? Or to face the townspeople and their judgment after learning she’d been dating a criminal?
Nobody cared that much, not really. But she did.
She stared at her phone for a few moments, at the dancing dots that told her Mom was either typing or waiting for her to respond.
She tapped the best answer she could give at the moment.
I’ll think about it.
After paying for her purchases, she rolled her cart to the fast-food restaurant inside the superstore’s entrance. The smell of fried food made her realize she was hungrier than she’d thought. She ordered a chicken sandwich and ate it at one of the high tables near the window, watching the parking lot as daylight faded into dusk.
The lot wasn’t empty when Delaney stepped outside, but it felt that way. The distance between her small SUV and the store entrance stretched farther than it had when she’d arrived. She saw only one other person, a person ducking into a vehicle a few aisles away.
By the time Delaney loaded her purchases, full darkness had settled. She pulled out of the parking space, her headlights sweeping across the rows of empty spaces.
The drive back to Driftwood took her along the winding two-lane highway that cut through farmland and patches of forest. During the day, the route was scenic. At night, it felt isolated. Her headlights carved a tunnel, illuminating the yellow center line and the reflective markers that dotted the shoulder.
She’d driven this route dozens of times now, but tonight something felt different. When she pressed the brake pedal as she approached a stop sign at a crossroads, it felt mushy beneath her foot.
Weird. But the car stopped normally, so she continued toward town.
The road was mostly flat with one exception, a hill that bordered the valley where Driftwood was nestled among the pines. When she crested the hill, the little town’s lights shone in the distance.
Her SUV picked up speed as she headed down. She pressed the brake pedal. It mashed all the way to the floor.
But her Highlander didn’t slow.
Her heart lurched as the car gained speed down the incline. She pumped the brake frantically, but the pedal offered no resistance, no response. She sped around turns that seemed to get sharper the faster she went.
“No, no, no!” The yellow center line blurred beneath her headlights.
A sharp curve loomed ahead, marked by reflective yellow signs. She yanked the wheel into the turn, tires squealing as she fought to keep the SUV on the asphalt. The vehicle fishtailed, and she feared she’d spin.
She managed to straighten out, but another curve was coming fast.
The emergency brake. She yanked it up. The car shuddered, slowing slightly, but not enough. The acrid smell of burning brake pads filled the cabin.
Another curve. She took it too wide, her tires hitting the gravel shoulder before she wrestled it back onto the road.
Lord, help!
The road continued to wind, curve after deadly curve between the dark trees. At this speed, she’d never make them all.
Her heart pounding in her throat, Delaney spotted a small turnout ahead. She remembered the abandoned strip mall on the hill, having seen it on other trips to the store. It was her only chance. She steered onto the gravel, bracing as her Toyota lurched over the uneven ground.
It skidded on loose stones, careening toward the trees that bordered the pullout.
