The exit was coned off.
At least, Grace assumed this had to be the exit. She made sure to follow Lucas’s instructions exactly. The narrow dip veering off of the highway was nearly invisible, a stretch of dirt that switched to gravel further down the path. If she hadn’t been leaning forward in her seat, specifically searching for it, she never would have seen it.
Three sturdy, orange traffic cones blocked the entrance to the path. She flicked on her hazard lights, pulling onto what could only generously be referred to as a shoulder. If her tiny car was any wider, she’d be in trouble.
Lucas warned her that his hometown was leery of outsiders. She was beginning to see that.
But Grace was determined to get to Hamlet. After driving for five hours with the promise of hiding out in the small town, she wasn’t going to let any amount of traffic cones stop her.
Climbing over her passenger seat, she popped out on the side away from the flow of traffic. At least two cars stopped to see if she needed any help. She waved them off with a small smile, her heart pounding wildly every time a car slowed in case it was the Jaguar.
Why did so many cars have to be black?
She knew he would come after her, and sooner before later. He would find her, too. He always did. Tommy didn’t know the meaning of give up.
She had to get to Hamlet first.
The cones were heavy. After years of training, Grace was no weakling, but she’d be the first to admit that all of her strength was in her legs. She was too small to wrap her arms around the oversized cones and lift.
She finally discovered a way to make it work by hooking her fingers in the open top of each cone. With a grunt, she dragged each one until she’d left a path wide enough to slip her car through.
She wiped her hands together, dusting them off as she hurried back to her car. The passenger door was closed; she’d shoved it shut behind her when she was facing off against the cones. The cars were whizzi
ng by behind her. She’d have to climb over her console again to get back to her driver’s seat.
Grace grabbed the handle to the passenger’s door and immediately sensed that something wasn’t right. Her entire body froze, except for her fingers. She curled them in, tapping the smooth inner side of the handle.
There.
Though she hadn’t had the car that long, she didn’t consider it new. She knew every dent, every nick, every scratch—on the driver’s side. She’d never had a reason to use the passenger’s side before. But the strange bump she felt when she grabbed that handle? There wasn’t one on the other side. With a sinking suspicion, she was willing to bet there wasn’t supposed to be one on this side, either.
She dropped easily to one knee, then the next, angling her head so that she could get a better look on the underside.
Even though it was still light out, the shadow under the dark grey handle made it impossible to see what was there. Was there something there? She hoped not, but the last year had taught her to trust her gut. And that’s what she was going to do.
Staying on her knees, Grace pulled the door open, leaning in and grabbing the tote bag she had stowed on the floor of the car. Ever since she turned it off after searching for the pawn shops, her phone had been tucked inside. She held it in her hand, debating whether or not it was worth the risk to turn it back on for the few seconds it would take to activate the flashlight app.
She used to keep a flashlight in her last car. Unfortunately, she forgot to take it out of the glove compartment when she had the wreck towed away. Her phone was all she had.
It took a minute to boot up. She quickly put it on airplane mode, swiping away the notifications she refused to look at. A couple of clicks and the bright light erupted from the back. Shoving her long hair out of her face, Grace tilted her head back while lifting the flashlight up.
And she saw it. A flat piece of shiny metal that didn’t belong. About the size of a dime, with the same thickness, it was positioned in the center of the handle.
It wasn’t supposed to be there. She knew instinctively who put it on her car, and she was almost certain she knew why. Grace always wondered how he was able to find her so easily, given how careful she was and how rarely she used her cell.
It was a bug. Or… or a tracker. Something like that.
Don’t freak, she told herself. Don’t panic.
Just get rid of it.
However Tommy had gotten the damn thing attached to her car, it was stuck and stuck tight. Grace tore two fingernails before she got half of it off. Another one was lost to the cause before she had the slim piece of metal grasped loosely between her forefinger and her thumb. She held it away from her as if afraid it might fly out of her grip and stick to her.
Once it was off, she stared at it.
She couldn’t just drop it. If this really was the tracker she expected it to be, leaving it in front of the cones was the same as hanging a honking neon sign in front of the exit, pointing out the way she had gone. Why not send Lucas’s directions straight to Tommy if she wanted to make it so easy for him to chase right after her?
No. She’d come this far already. No stopping her now.