“Because I’ll be going so slowly. Since I don’t run, I mean. Although I remember Derek saying that a sixty-something guy came in third for a 5K he did. So maybe the senior citizens will befasterthan me.”
Chuckling, he says, “Well, if you want to start running?—”
“I don’t,” I interject. “I like Pilates. And the free weights in the B and A gym. But running? No thanks. I’ll just be at the very back of the race, getting lapped by the little kids.”
Indy laughs again. Then his smile sobers. “It doesn’t matterwhenyou finish, Bea. The important part is that you tried.”
“True.” I swing our joined hands a little as we start walking again. “That’s very true.”
Indy looks at me. Something deeper than affection reflects in his gaze. “Bea. I know this isn’t the best place to tell you. But?—”
He cuts himself off as tires squeal nearby.
His hand tightens around mine.
Then he pulls me towards the next row of cars, not full-out running, but not walking, either.
My heart jumps.
But it’s nothing. Just someone in a hurry to leave. Or running late for their shift and racing to get here.
“Bea.” Indy’s voice is low. Urgent. “Hurry. I don’t like this.”
Obediently, I pick up my pace. “Indy. I’m sure it’s nothing. Sometimes people?—”
An engine roars.
Tires squeal again.
I glance to my right, in the direction of the sound.
A black SUV bears down on us, its engine gunning and tires peeling.
My heart stops.
Time seems to freeze.
The headlights speed closer, like two beams searching.
Locking onto me and Indy.
Targeting us.
I know I need to move faster.
But my legs don’t want to move.
This can’t be happening.
Any second now, the SUV will slam on the brakes. The driver will roll down the window, apologizing profusely, explaining how they’re late for work and they just?—
What? Didn’t see two people right in front of them?
“MOVE!” Indy shouts. Then he shoves me ahead of him.
I stumble forward; visions of tripping and getting run down right in the parking lot flash before me.
Or Indy.
