This car isn’t his. Trent won’t know the right licence plate to track even when he sees the front door security camera footage and identifies Edwin.
Other cameras might have caught the plate… or not. Even if they did, there’s no reason to think the ones currently on the car match to the record.
My heart hammers and I grip the doorhandle. The road outside is blurred from the speed we’re travelling, but there’s a lights-controlled-intersection approaching. He’ll have to stop for the red light.
As I look ahead, the colour changes to green. I count the cars between us and the crossroads, trying to calculate the chances. But I don’t know this side of town well. Hell, I don’t know this side of townat all.It’s afternoon and they should be on high rotation given we’ve passed three schools in as many minutes. But what’s that? Thirty seconds? A minute? Two?
“Can we pull over?” I blurt, holding a hand to my mouth. “I’m sick.”
“There’s a bag in the seat pocket,” Edwin states calmly, eyes focused on the road ahead. “Use that if you need to.”
My skin is clammy. The chill coming from the window is far more powerful than the weak warmth the air conditioning blows into the back seat.
I lean forward in my seat under the guise of hunting for the bag he mentioned. Once I have it, I continue to stay there, using my body as a shield so he can’t see my hand resting on the door release.
The light’s still green.
Still green.
Fuck!It’sstillgreen and we’re only three car lengths away now.
Amber.
Thank fuck.
But the cars ahead decide that’s just another shade of turning signal, sneaking into the intersection as though the road rules are more like relaxed guidelines.
Then Edwin brakes as the vehicle directly ahead obeys the sign like a good citizen. My hand tenses, ready to go.
Ready.
Set.
I lift the door release, but nothing happens. I jerk at it, pushing the button in the opposite direction—an action that should roll down the window—but also does nothing.
“They’re disabled,” Edwin remarks mildly from the driver’s seat. “The only way you can get through the doors is by someone outside opening them with the handle.”
His smug face rubs me the wrong way and I spin my legs up, kicking between the gap in the front seats, aiming for his head. The blow lands mostly on his headrest but he gives a yelp that fills me with a warm glow.
A short-lived affair as a Perspex divider lifts, cutting off access.
“Try sitting back and doing what you’re fucking told,” Eddie yells, his cool knocked away with the feeble kick. There is a network of holes in the divider, right near his head, meaning I can hear him clearly. “You’re not in any danger—”
“Is that what he told you?” I let out a grunt of disbelief. “Drive to Sydenham and I’ll introduce you to the three people he murdered this morning. Maybe you can keep a straight face while you’re giving the same lecture to them.”
Edwin shoots me a concerned glance in the rearview mirror, then his eyes return to the road as the light changes. I try to remember the damsel-in-distress signals that were making the rounds on social media earlier in the year, some gesture I should make out the window, but my mind is a blank.
I turn and hammer on the glass, opening my mouth to scream as loudly as I can.
“If you make me stop this car to deal with you, you’ll fucking regret it.”
“Make your mind up. I thought I wasn’t in any danger.”
“You’re not escaping so you might as well settle in for the ride,” he mutters.
I close my eyes, my mind churning through scenarios at a million times a minute. “What’re you getting out of this?”
“Stop talking now. I don’t want to hear another word out of you.”
