CHAPTER 9
Micah pulledout of the hospital lot with Naomi in the passenger seat, the glow from the entrance fading in the rearview mirror as they headed back toward Refuge Cove.
He’d checked the lot before he left. The red truck was gone.
If Naomi hadn’t been with him, he would have checked the plates. But he hadn’t wanted to alarm her. He was, however, still on guard.
Naomi sat quietly beside him, her hands folded in her lap and her gaze fixed on the dark road ahead.
“You okay?” He kept his tone light.
She nodded. “Yes. I’m just . . . processing.”
He understood. Anyone in her situation would be like this.
They drove a few minutes in silence, the road narrowing as the town thinned and the forest closed in around them. Micah’s attention stayed divided—half on Naomi, half on the mirrors.
That was when he noticed the headlights behind him.
The vehicle wasn’t close enough to be obvious. But the lights didn’t drift back like normal traffic. They were just there—holding steady through the curves.
Micah eased off the accelerator.
The vehicle behind them did the same.
His jaw tightened.
He didn’t say anything to Naomi. She’d had enough fear for one night, and until he was sure, there was no reason to add more. Still, tension crept up his spine as he took a longer route than necessary, letting the road wind where it usually didn’t.
Naomi shifted beside him. “Is this way quicker?”
Of course, she would notice.
“About the same,” he said. “Less traffic.”
She seemed to accept that and settled back into her seat.
Micah signaled and turned onto a narrow side road that dipped briefly before looping back toward the main route. For a moment, the headlights followed.
Then they slowed.
Micah checked the mirror as he rounded the bend.
The other vehicle disappeared.
He kept driving anyway, pulse still thudding, every instinct on edge.
When they reached the next intersection, he paused longer than necessary, scanning the darkness before continuing on.
Naomi glanced at him. “You sure everything is okay?”
“I’m just being cautious.”
They didn’t speak again until Refuge Cove came into view. Micah punched his code in at the gate—they’d given him his own in case of emergencies—and he waited until the metal slid open.
Only when they were parked near the garage did he ease his grip on the steering wheel.
The other car hadn’t reappeared, but his gut told him that driver behind them hadn’t been there by coincidence.
