“Sophie, listen to me. Right before the crash, what happened?”
She trembled.
“A black pickup followed us down the mountain road. It hit our bumper twice. Then a man pulled up beside me. He had a scar on his chin. He pointed at the back tire like something was wrong. I panicked. I hit the brakes, and the tire blew. The wheel jerked out of my hands.”
A man with a scar.
Travis.
I kissed her forehead.
“You didn’t do anything wrong. You gave me what I needed.”
On my way home, my phone buzzed.
Ryan.
I always knew you were unstable, Emma. I didn’t realize you were suicidal. Such a tragic ending for a grieving mother.
He knew.
He wasn’t waiting anymore.
I crept back into the house through the window. The hallway was too quiet.
A hand grabbed my hair. A cloth smelling of chemicals pressed over my mouth. Brooke appeared from the dark and plunged a needle into my thigh.
“Shhh,” Ryan whispered. “You’re overwhelmed by grief. It’s time to let go.”
I let my body go limp before the drugs fully took me.
When I woke, the world was shaking.
I was behind the wheel of my SUV. The engine roared. Rain hammered the windshield. I was speeding down Blackridge Pass, the most dangerous mountain road outside the city.
I hit the brakes.
The pedal dropped uselessly to the floor.
The lines had been cut.
In the rearview mirror, Ryan’s Jaguar followed exactly behind me.
He was watching me die.
Panic rose, but the memory of Ava and Jack’s coffins steadied me. I grabbed my phone. I didn’t call 911. Ryan had too many friends there.
I called Detective Miller, one of the few honest officers I knew.
“Miller,” he answered.
“It’s Emma Hayes,” I shouted over the engine. “Don’t talk. Merge this call into your department radio channel and trace my GPS. Now.”
Then I added Ryan to the call.
He answered immediately.
“Having trouble steering, darling?”
“Ryan, please!” I screamed. “The brakes are gone! Help me!”
“Close your eyes,” he said softly. “Soon you’ll be with Ava and Jack. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“Why are you doing this?” I cried, downshifting hard as the engine screamed. “You already took my babies! You paid Travis to ruin Sophie’s tires! You killed your own children for insurance money!”
“Four million dollars, Emma,” Ryan laughed. “And another two million when your life insurance clears after tonight. Travis was cheap. Brooke was smart. And you were a naïve ATM.”
“You cut my brakes just like you had Travis cut the van’s tires.”
“I didn’t need Travis this time,” he boasted. “I cut them myself twenty minutes ago. There’s no surviving this hill.”
The road straightened ahead, ending near a concrete barrier.
