Heavy Artillery Husband. Debra & Regan Webb & Black

Chapter Two

      Sophia sent her daughter a quick text message while she waited for the valet to bring her rental car from the hotel parking garage. She breathed a sigh of relief at the quick, normal reply. She was sure this meeting was bogus and equally sure she couldn’t let it slide. Though she might be heading into the unknown alone, she intended to leave a trail of bread crumbs in case things went wrong. A lesson she’d learned from her husband—anticipate the best while creating a strategy to fend off the worst.

      When the car arrived, she loaded her suitcase into the backseat and kept her purse up front. She left her cell phone on and synced it to the car’s system. When the navigation software had a route ready for her, she pulled away from the hotel.

      Frank wouldn’t be there—couldn’t possibly be there—but she had yet to come up with a plausible reason why anyone would impersonate him to get her attention.

      Darkness fell as she made her way along historic Route 66 and headlights winked on under the purpling sky in her rearview mirror. Having memorized the brief note, she let the cadence of the words play through her mind over and over. Rubbing a pressure point on her earlobe, she blinked back a sudden rush of tears.

      She’d thought the well had run dry months ago. Those early days after Frank killed himself had been wave after wave of sobbing, until she thought she’d never breathe properly again. Throughout their marriage she’d been alone frequently, always with the confident knowledge that she’d see him again. While their daughter bitterly accused her of moving on too quickly in establishing the security business, the harsh, lonely truth of how much she missed Frank had thankfully been buried under a mountain of new career distractions.

      A car rushed up behind her and passed her in a blur. She glanced down, confirming she was driving the speed limit, and forgot the other car as it surged into the distance. She had more important things to consider. Who would be waiting for her at Parkhurst and why? How would she handle the encounter?

      Maybe she should call Frankie and put her on alert. You could be in danger wasn’t suitable for a text message. Sophia checked the clock. She could pull over and snap a picture of the notes with her phone and still arrive on time for the meeting.

      That sort of move would only send her daughter and, by extension, the upper management of Leo Solutions into a tailspin of worry for Frankie and Sophia. Better to send an update when she had some facts about the situation rather than encourage useless conjecture that might stir up more trouble. Maintaining a good reputation within the industry of security services meant mitigating bad press.

      The computerized voice of the navigation system announced the approaching exit number and instructions, and Sophia stayed in the right lane for the exit. As the voice related the next direction and turn, she continued around the curve of the ramp, merging onto the frontage road. She glanced ahead, noting the absolute darkness surrounding her destination. The Reserve Center would be long closed and the protected forest wouldn’t be lit, either. Whoever had brought her here would have to speak to her through the car window. She had no intention of getting out and making herself an easier target.

      A screech and scream of tires against the pavement brought her attention back to the road immediately. A car in front of her squealed to an abrupt stop. She checked her mirrors, her options limited by the traffic in the other lane, and jerked the wheel. She swerved right onto the rough shoulder so she wouldn’t plow into the car. At nearly fifty miles per hour, her tires growled over the rumble strip cut into the pavement. She missed the stopped car by mere inches and braked hard, desperate to stop safely on the shoulder and catch her breath.

      The driver in the stopped car suddenly gunned the engine and swerved to the shoulder, pushing his fender into her car. What the hell?

      She couldn’t see the driver through the tinted windows, but there was no way he hadn’t seen her car. Dumbfounded, she swore again as she urged her car forward to escape. It didn’t work. She braked, hoping he’d drive by. No such luck. Metal scraped and she was caught, helpless, as the other car forced hers off the road and down into the tree-lined ditch.

      As her car slid down the slope, the other driver left her. Sophia struggled to get her car level and back up to the safety of the roadway. With the car off balance, the rear end fishtailed as her tires lost traction in the longer grass. She tried turning one way, then the other, only to find a loose bit of terrain that sent her car sliding farther into a ditch she hadn’t seen. The seat belt grabbed at her, holding her tight until the car finally slid to a stop.

      Thankfully the air bag didn’t deploy. The navigation system warned she was going the wrong way. With shaking hands she silenced the automated voice grating out route corrections. Her headlights were swallowed by the ditch while the lights of other vehicles cut through the darkness on the highway above.

      She twisted in the seat, looking for any sign of the other car. Apparently, it was long gone. Furious, she unfastened her seat belt and leaned over to scoop up her phone and purse from the passenger-side floorboard.

      Suddenly the passenger door opened and the bright beam of a flashlight made her wince and shy away. “Hurry, Sophie.” A hand stretched out to her from the other side of that glaring light.

      The voice... Impossible. Sophie? Only Frank had ever gotten away with calling her Sophie.

      She froze, too startled to move or reply. Maybe she’d hit her head. Maybe she’d been killed and didn’t realize it yet.

      “Move it!” The sharp command left no room for debate. “We have to get out of here right now.”

      The urgency in his voice seemed at odds with what must be a hallucination. If, somewhere deep in her subconscious, she hoped for help from her dead husband, wouldn’t he be as calm as he’d been through every stress during their life together?

      “Snap out of it.” He tugged on her free hand. “Or they’ll kill us both.”

      She couldn’t see his face, though his touch felt familiar. “You’re already dead,” she whispered.

      “Not anymore,” he said, his tone gentling.

      First the notes, now this...

      What was going on? A terrible hoax was the only explanation. Who would do such a thing? “Go away.” She resisted the warmth in his voice. The sense of awareness was a figment of her imagination. “Go away!” Panic swelled inside, expanding outward until she thought her skin would shred from the pressure. “Leave me alone!”

      Engines roared closer and faded away, cars of all sizes going on about their business as if reality hadn’t spun her world out of control. She snatched up her purse and reached to open her door.

      It was jammed. Of course it was jammed; the other car had damaged the driver’s side of her car.

      “This way. Now!” The man who couldn’t be her husband swore as she continued to fight with the door that wouldn’t budge.

      “That’s enough.” The flashlight went out. He grabbed her arm and dragged her across the seats and out of the car.

      The crush of his fingers burned her skin with undeniable familiarity. She told herself to fight him, told herself she was delusional, and still her body refused to resist.

      When her feet hit the ground, she wobbled a bit, whether a result of the shock, the panic or the uneven ground, she couldn’t be sure. Probably all of the above. Her determined rescuer steadied her body with his, and in the shadows she recognized the shape and scent of the man who’d been her partner in life for three decades. Impossible...

      “Frank?” In the darkness it was hard to tell. Maybe her vision had been compromised along with her common sense. “How?”

      “I’ll explain everything in a minute. Can you walk?”

      “Of course.” Offended, she took a step as he did, then stopped short. “My suitcase!” Her computer was in there; she wouldn’t leave it behind. “It’s in the back.”

      “At