Threat Of Darkness. Valerie Hansen

quit fidgeting, grabbed her Bible and her purse and headed for her car.

       Securing the kitchen door behind her, she fisted her key ring and turned around. That’s when she saw it.

       “My car!”

       Her jaw dropped. Her heart began to race. All four doors gaped open. Stuffing and small pieces of fabric lay scattered in the dirt. She didn’t have to look closely at the opposite side to figure it was the same. Someone had ripped the seats to shreds!

       Suddenly aware that she was standing there totally exposed and unprotected, she laid her Bible on the porch railing and instinctively reached for her cell phone. The smashed one. The useless piece of plastic that she had failed to replace in a timely manner.

       Hopeful, she flipped it open just the same. It was dead. Worthless. “Now what?”

       Thinking of how vehemently she’d insisted that she didn’t need watching, she wished she’d been a little less self-assured. It was one thing to tell John that she could take care of herself when she had transportation and communication. It was quite another to be standing there staring at her gutted blue compact and belatedly remembering that her phone didn’t work, either.

       The most natural thing to do was return to the house and lock herself in but that would mean giving up. Letting the bad guys win. Plus, she’d be a virtual prisoner.

       Knees weak, body trembling, Samantha scanned the yard and tried to assure herself she’d be okay. Nothing was moving. There were no hulking figures dressed in black and no monsters peeking from behind the old barn doors.

       Brutus hadn’t made a sound when she’d let him out that morning, either. Therefore, whoever had ravaged her car must be long gone. She hoped.

       Did somebody think something was hidden in the car, like maybe the mysterious package her assailant had insisted she’d had?

       “That doesn’t make any sense,” she muttered, slowly descending the stairs and creeping closer to the car, purse slung over her shoulder, Bible in the crook of her arm, pepper spray at the ready in her other hand.

       Up close the upholstery was a worse mess than she’d thought, except for the driver’s seat. There were several slashes in it as well, but all the stuffing hadn’t been pulled out.

       That was good enough for Samantha. The house was secure and her watchdog was on duty. The smartest thing for her to do was get into the car and leave, as planned, so she could report the vandalism from a working phone.

       “I’ll be fine,” she insisted, trying to convince herself she meant it.

       The rear doors of the car and the trunk lid stood open, as did the front passenger door. Samantha would have shut them all before leaving, but something told her it was smarter to try to start the engine first. If it, too, had been tampered with she wanted to stay as close to the house as possible.

       Brushing aside bits of stuffing and tossing her purse, Bible and the pepper spray in ahead of her, she slid behind the wheel. Fit the key into the ignition. Turned it.

       The motor had always started easily. Not this time. It coughed as if it were choking.

       Samantha’s heart lodged in her throat. Had they disabled her car so she couldn’t flee? Was she their real target? Were they out there, hiding, waiting for her to show herself before they pounced?

       Something near the barn caught her attention out of the corner of her eye but when she swiveled to look, there was nothing unusual to see. Had there been? Or was she imagining threats simply because she was already so frightened she could barely think, barely breathe?

       One more try. She’d give the car one more chance to start, then bolt for the house and try to get the door open before anyone had time to catch her.

       She turned the key and pumped the accelerator. The car coughed. It started!

       There was the shadow again. Only this time it was passing her rearview mirror! She shifted into gear. Saw an arm reaching for the open door. Floored the gas and hoped it would be enough.

       The engine sputtered again before starting to race.

       “Come on, come on,” Samantha shouted, as if the car could hear and obey.

       Wonder of wonders, it began to pull away.

       She heard a guttural shout behind her that morphed into a chain of curses.

       This was no time to stop and close the car doors or the trunk. Not if she intended to make good her escape.

       Hands fisted on the wheel, car careening down the dirt road with the trunk lid flapping and the unlatched doors opening and closing erratically, Samantha could hardly believe that she’d gotten away.

       Or had she? A dark-colored pickup truck was stopped by the bank of rural mailboxes that served her immediate area.

       As she drew nearer, it pulled out. One threat lay behind her and another now completely blocked the narrow road ahead.

       She was trapped!

      FOUR

      John saw Samantha’s car approaching. He wouldn’t have thought much about her excessive speed if he hadn’t seen the condition of the vehicle she was driving. Its doors were flapping like the wings of a wounded duck and every time Samantha hit a bump, the trunk lid bounced erratically.

       There was no way he was going to let her pass and continue to town when her car was obviously unsafe. He eased forward into the roadway and blocked her exit.

       For a few moments it seemed as if she was going to ram his truck. Her tires threw up clouds of dust and gravel as she finally applied the brakes and started to skid.

       John braced himself, ready for impact. It didn’t come. Instead, Samantha bailed out of her car and started to sprint away.

       He stepped down from the cab of the pickup and hollered, “Hey, Sam! Hold on. It’s just me.”

       In the seconds it took for her to come to her senses he saw no change in her actions. Then, as if in slow motion, she wheeled and came straight at him. Instead of slowing her pace, however, she barreled into his chest so forcefully it staggered him.

       He grasped her upper arms and held her away so he could look her in the eyes when he asked, “What’s going on?”

       “My—my car. Somebody ransacked it.”

       “Why are the doors open?”

       She was gulping air, fighting to catch her breath. “Be-because…”

       “Okay. Calm down. I’ve got you,” John said, wrapping her in a tight embrace and steadying them both against the side of his truck. “Take your time.”

       While both her arms encircled his waist and her cheek lay against his chest, she continued to try to explain.

       “At the house. A man. Coming at me. I didn’t have time to…”

       “Just now? You saw a prowler just now?”

       Samantha nodded, lifting her head. “Uh-huh.”

       “What did he look like?”

       “It was a big shadow. I know somebody was after me.”

       “Maybe you imagined it.”

       As she eased away from him and looked up into his eyes, she was shaking her head. “No way. I may have a good imagination but I’ve never heard one of my daydreams curse before.”

       That was enough for John. He ushered her into his truck and closed the door before using his cell to call the station with a report.

       In case there was anyone leaving Sam’s he wanted to be in place to at least get an ID. If nobody came by, that would be okay, too, because it would mean that whoever had trashed her car was still up there.

       Only one dirt