Friday, 2:05 a.m.

Pittsburgh, PA

After a never-ending shift on her feet, Lolli McGarret left Hooters around two a.m. Men gawked at her all night, with their wolf whistles and pick-up lines they’d used ninety-nine times when they visited the bar on game night. The regulars, the customers who came weekly, were all right folks. Some she’d even call friends. But when there’s a sporting event, men with misconceptions about the place pushed the boundaries on acceptable behavior.

Between attending classes during the day and working full-time to pay tuition, relaxing in the Jacuzzi was all she could dream about the entire drive home. Peace. Tranquility. Maybe a nice glass of chardonnay while Dexter purred on his designated towel laid on the wide-ledge, beside her head. In fact, he was probably waiting for her right now, frantically meowing at the door.

Good thing she’d stopped to pick up his favorite treats, or he might snub her for being late. As it was, he wasn’t thrilled when she worked weekends, which he made abundantly clear by refusing eye contact. She wasn’t happy about it either, but try explaining the lure of higher tips to someone whose whole world revolved around food, Mommy, and catnip.

When she crested the steep hill she shifted her stark-white Nike to the brake pedal. The Prius refused to slow. Instead, it increased speed as if her foot mistakenly hit the gas. By the time she reached the bottom of the hill, the speedometer read sixty, then seventy. Through parted lips, she shrieked, her terror coiling through the summer heat.

Hands trembling, she thumbed the phone button on the steering wheel, then waited for the prompt.

Beep.

Her voice quavered when she said, “Nine-one-one.”

“Nine-one-one,” echoed the computerized voice. “When ready, please briefly push the talk switch, or press the off-hook switch to dial.”

Waiting for the call to connect, Lolli swerved to avoid a raccoon who’d darted into the street. Two golden eyes burned through the darkness, their brooding intensity reflective in the headlights.

A deep mechanical voice resounded out the stereo speakers. “You rang?”

What an odd way for 911 to answer. “Operator?” Hands juddering, she jerked the steering wheel to the left. Focused on the call, she almost crashed into the speed limit sign. Which, by the way, read thirty miles-per-hour.

Where’s a cop when you need one?

“Guess again.” The voice sniggered like the devil incarnate.

Who was this guy? Somehow the signals must have crossed. “Get off the line. This is an emergency. Whoa.” The Prius lurched to the right, and she barely regained control before she plowed into the side of a brick building. A thick vein in her neck pulsed through the skin.

With her thumb she disconnected. Via voice commands, she redialed. Before the operator could get a word out, she shouted, “Help! I can’t stop. Something’s wrong with my car.” Tears dousing her quivering cheeks, her vision clouded more and more. “Please hurry.”

“You will die tonight.” The same sinister voice shot tremors up her spine. “I suggest you get right with your God.”

“What’re you saying?” Her mind boggled. How was this even possible? In the next second, she envisioned ways this hell ride might end, one scene more alarming than the last. What would happen to Dexter? Who’d care for him? For cryin’ out loud, she’s only thirty. She couldn’t die. Especially now, after finally summoning the courage to leave her husband, Carlton. For once, she experienced contentment. Granted, her trip to the health clinic was a bit of a shock, but so far she handled the news rather well. Plus, she had exams Monday. She’d been studying all week, too. It wasn’t easy keeping up with the younger crowd whose biggest problem was which party to attend.

“You will die tonight,” repeated the voice. “It’s your call on how long you suffer.”

“We’ll see about that.” If she headed into Highland Park, maybe the duck pond could slow the vehicle long enough for her to end this nightmare. At this point, she had nothing left to lose. With renewed purpose, Lolli banged a hard left through the park entrance. This time of night the chances of mowing down a pedestrian reduced to slim. ‘Course, she hadn’t moseyed around Highland Park after dark since her late teens, early twenties. Even then, organizers of the keg-parties cautioned everyone to stay off the main drag. Less of a chance of getting a DUI that way.

The engine roared, smoke trailing behind the Prius in the scarlet smolder of taillights. When she neared the pond, the tires struck the concrete barrier around the water, and the Prius sailed through the air. Lolli whipped open the driver’s door. Jumped. Her body jackknifed into the shallow water, her head colliding with the concrete floor. Streaks of blood rode the ripples to the surface.

The car surpassed the pond and smashed headlong into the flag pole. Upside-down on its roof, four tires whirled round and round. Two cylindrical spheres flamed across the grass, the headlights exposing a stranger’s denim-clad legs.

Dazed, soaked, and more than a little perplexed, Lolli called into the darkness. “Help me. I’m hurt. Send a—” Dragging herself over the pond’s embankment, she collapsed. Sirens wailed in the distant. Unbidden, she let go, her mind wafting into a hazy abyss.