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TWENTY-FOUR
EPILOGUE
Madelyn Sawyer glanced into her rearview mirror again and her pulse spiked. The white truck with the dent in its front bumper was still there. Still following her.
She drew in an uneven breath as she dragged her eyes back to the highway in front of her. The road ahead was fairly empty aside from a tractor trailer that had passed her a few minutes earlier and an old school bus full of migrant workers that had just pulled onto the street.
Madelyn was still ten minutes away from her end destination: the small bay town of Waterman’s Reach. Would the truck follow her all the way there?
As the sun continued to sink lower on the horizon, her thoughts raced. Was someone trying to scare her, keep tabs on her or harm her? None of the options made her feel better.
There was already enough secrecy surrounding her assignment in the small fishing community. The last thing she needed was to draw unnecessary attention to herself. Apparently, she already had.
She glanced in the mirror again. Each glimpse of the truck ratcheted up her nerves. What was she going to do?
The truck had been behind her for the past twenty miles. Madelyn had tried to blow it off by rationalizing that many people traveled this route straight from Maryland all the way to Norfolk, Virginia. The region, known as the Eastern Shore, was a strip of land, a peninsula that was surrounded by the ocean on one side and the Chesapeake Bay on the other.
She’d gotten off the highway twice to test the truck. The vehicle may have disappeared for short periods, but it always appeared again behind her. She didn’t know what was going on or why someone would follow her.
But she had to end this. Now.
With her grip tight on the steering wheel, she swerved onto a side street. She hoped her GPS would reroute her to the duplex where she was staying and that being on a secluded road with the truck wouldn’t lead to more danger. Losing the truck was all she could think of.
Unfortunately, she’d been trained as a journalist and not in defensive or evasive driving techniques. Maybe she should add those to her bucket list. At times like this it would come in handy.
Though the speed limit was only thirty-five, she gunned the engine of her eight-year-old sedan. The Nissan wasn’t what it used to be, and her motor groaned as she accelerated.
She didn’t care. She’d worry about her car later. Right now she wanted to get away and lose this truck once and for all. She feared her very life might depend on it.
The road was narrow with deep ditches on either side. Maybe pulling off hadn’t been the greatest of ideas. Her location allowed little room for error. She became more secluded with every rotation of the tires.
Madelyn glanced in the rearview mirror again. The truck had turned after her!
Her heart rate ratcheted again. What was she going to do? None of this made sense.
Only one person knew her real reason for coming here—her editor. Paula would have no reason to expose Madelyn’s true intentions—it would cost them the story of a lifetime if she did. Something was seriously wrong.
A half a mile later she swerved into a gravel lane and gunned it, traveling down the street as quickly as possible. She had to lose the truck. As she pulled into a service road ending in the woods, she heard a pop. Her car bounced and bumped.
She’d busted a tire, she realized.
Great.
She’d have to address that in a moment. For now, she cut her car lights, hoping she’d remain concealed in the shadows.
Her heart pounded in her ears as she waited. Would the truck follow her? Trap her here?
If that happened, what would the driver do to her? Did he want to hurt her?
None of this made sense.
She continued to wait, her heart pounding out of control. She imagined the pain she might endure if the wrong person found her. Torture. Suffering. Who knew what else?
Each thought caused her anxiety to skyrocket even more.
As perspiration sprinkled her forehead, she glanced at the time. It had been five minutes and no truck. Could she really have lost him? It seemed too good to be true.
She sucked on her bottom lip a moment, still trying to figure out why she would be followed. There was only one person who wouldn’t want her to write the article, and that was the town’s police chief, Zach Davis. But even he didn’t know she was coming or what her real motivation was.
As far as everyone else knew, she was writing a travel article on the quaint town. Its location between the Chesapeake Bay and the Atlantic Ocean made it an ideal spot for the flourishing seafood industry.
Madelyn wasn’t here for the fishing, though. She didn’t even like to eat seafood, truth be told. But she was here to fish for what could be the story of her life.
Being here was precarious. Her assignment involved a trace amount of deceit. But the rewards outweighed the risks. At least, that’s what she told herself. Her conscience kept contradicting the thought.
She justified her actions with one word: justice. She could expose wrongs done by the arrogant and help them to get the negative exposure they deserved. It was what every good journalist wanted—to be a voice of change and reason. To make a difference. To impact the world.
She held her breath as a shadow overtook the mouth of the service road. Another vehicle was coming toward her, she realized.
Her blood spiked with adrenaline. She needed a weapon, a way to protect herself. But she had nothing. And she’d secluded herself in the middle of the woods where no one would hear her scream.
Her cell phone, she realized. She could call for help! Except when Madelyn turned it on, her screen showed she had no reception.
Before she could second-guess herself, Madelyn climbed from the car, grabbed her purse and darted into the woods. She ran as hard as she could, her ankles twisting in her heels. She couldn’t be sure how far she’d gotten. But when she saw the car pull up behind hers, she froze, ducking behind a tree. She couldn’t risk being spotted.
Peering out, she watched carefully as the vehicle came to a stop behind hers, essentially blocking her in. Only, it wasn’t the white truck. It was a police cruiser.
She sucked in a quick breath.
A police cruiser?
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