“You might get more answers from the tipster. Whoevermade the call could know a lot more. Sounds like they know everything, or they’re possibly framing someone.”
“That’s what Bancroft thinks, I’m sure. The hotline isn’t set up to track callers who want to stay anonymous. So that’s why I’m calling you. I’m worried he might come after Jo.”
“Why would he come after Jo?”
“Come on. You read the reports. She’s in hiding because she believes whoever killed her mother is after her.”
Cole wasn’t sure that Wilson believed that, though.
“Where are you?” the detective asked. “We should meet to talk about this in person.”
Fishing for information? Sounded like the detective planned to grill him. “I can’t meet you right now. I’m in the middle of another case.” True. He wasprotectingJo. And stalling. “I’m happy to answer your questions. I appreciate your assistance as well.”
“I need to speak to Jo Cattrel. If you find her. I’d like to tell her the news myself. She could be in real danger, if she wasn’t before.”
A fact that Jo already knew. “And you have more questions for her.”
“I’m reviewing the police reports now and, yes, will probably have questions. But I have to find her first. I hope you can help with that.”
He didn’t want to stand in the way of an investigation or hold up progress, but he avoided answering the detective directly. Jo might not want to be found. She already knew she was in danger. Then again, he’d told her today that working with the police was the best way to go.
“We’re on the same team, Wilson. I’ll see what I can do and try to set up a call.” With the words, he pretty much admitted he’d found Jo.
“Fair enough. Alternatively, we could use a videoconferencing app,” Wilson said.
“Good idea. I’ll be in touch.” Cole ended the call. Jo was already in danger when she’d landed in Hidden Bay, and now her father could have dragged her into something else. But what? He hoped Allison found intel that could help, and soon. At least he had someone of her caliber on his team.
While conversing, he’d kept his eye on a vehicle approaching fast from behind. Passing the other traffic. Finally, it accelerated toward him, then the black Toyota Sequoia, which looked like it had been off-roading recently, sped around him, rudely cut in front of him, and nearly forced him off the road. He laid on the horn. Maybe the driver had meant to do just that. Most times, Cole remained levelheaded and refused to succumb to road rage, even in the nastiest of situations.
But this wasn’t one of those times.
Especially when the Sequoia accelerated and rammed into Jo’s Land Rover.
7
Her body jerked forward then fell back. She’d seen the SUV cut Cole off and she’d floored it, fearing the worst, but she hadn’t acted fast enough. Heart pounding, she glanced in the rearview mirror. The muddy black SUV accelerated, catching up with her. Again.
Oh yeah? She could accelerate too. Pop had put a big engine in this. She couldn’t recall what it was beyond a V-8. What made the pursuing driver think he—or she?—could take Jo out in her souped-up Land Rover? Then again, the Sequoia could also have a big, bad engine.
A thought suddenly hit her. An epiphany, really. The reason her father jacked up her truck with big tires and a powerful motor could have been for this very kind of harassment. She floored it, driving too fast for comfort along the slick road that hugged the Strait of Juan de Fuca. One wrong move and she could end up in the strait. Pop had known all along, or at the very least suspected, she might face this kind of threat one day. Because of him? Or because of what happened to Mom?
Where are you,Cole?
Wasn’t he supposed to be protecting her? Her safety fell on both their shoulders. The Sequoia caught up and rammed her from behind again.
“Come on!” she growled through gritted teeth.
The vehicle then swerved into the eastbound lane heading west, then edged forward until it was right next to her, keeping pace. Was someone going to shoot her now?
Should I duck?But then she wouldn’t be able to see the road. She accelerated, but the aggressive vehicle kept pace, even as she approached a curve in the road. Jo had no stunt-driving experience.
Her chest grew tight.
Her breaths shallow.
Her knuckles white as she gripped the steering wheel.
They weren’t going to shoot. Given the ridge to her right, pushing her off the road made more sense. Terror streaked through her. Terror and determination.
