That's the third time this week I've seen that car, Ali thought as the black Camaro crawled slowly past her driveway. Living on a sleepy, dead-end road, she knew not only the cars her neighbors drove but also the vehicles of their regular visitors. The Camaro was new on her street.

 

She grabbed her mail and hurried back to her pickup. When the car stopped on the side of the road just past the edge of her south fence, she locked the doors, pulled back out of her driveway, and headed toward her neighbor's farm instead of out to the main road. As she passed the car, the driver stared at her until she could no longer see him through the window.

 

It was definitely the same car. There was no mistaking the unique custom design on the hood: an airbrushed devil, painted in a shocking lime green, dancing wickedly over the front of the car. She recalled having seen a similar figure in an old art deco advertisement for absinthe. An odd choice for a car like that.

 

In her rear-view mirror she watched as the driver and a second man climbed out of the car, crossed the road, and walked back toward her ranch. Shit. What do they want? Ali opened her glove compartment, thankful she hadn't removed the gun as she had planned, and made a U-turn on the road.

 

With shaking hands, she parked the truck with the engine running, her eyes on the driveway as she pulled out the gun. Her heart hammered in her chest. As many times as she'd fired weapons at the range, and as adept as she'd been as a teenager at knocking a bird out of the sky with a shotgun, she'd never had to use her handgun for self-defense. It felt inadequate in her hand; though she knew she could take a man down with it. Even two men.

 

Please, God, just let them go away, she prayed. I don't want to have to shoot anyone today. I just want to be left alone. Her fingers began to perspire and she quickly wiped them on her shorts before curling her shaky hand back around the weapon. Please let anyone come along. Alejandro or maybe Mr. Miller from up the road. Even Bobby. She could feel the prickles on the back of her neck as her fight-or-flight reaction warned her to go ahead and run like hell.

 

The two men had disappeared from sight, over the fence into the pasture. Onto her property. I should call the police, she thought. They know I'm a woman living out here alone. They'll send someone right away. With trembling fingers she dug her phone out of her hip pocket and dialed 9-1-1 with her thumb. She tapped the speaker-phone button and held her breath.

 

"Arroyo Flats police, non-emergency, how can I help you?" a bored-sounding female voice droned on the other end.

 

"Yes, um--"

 

A cloud of dust appeared at the far end of the road, and she nearly collapsed with relief as she recognized the blue Suburban. "Never mind," she murmured, and hung up. Mr. Miller. She prayed that he wasn't in too much of a hurry. She shoved the gun into the glove compartment and flagged him down just as the two men appeared back over the fence and hopped into the car. Mr. Miller had almost reached her when the Camaro roared away, spraying pebbles and kicking up dirt as it went. Her neighbor pulled up next to her and rolled down his window.

 

"Saw those fellas out here last week," he drawled, his bushy eyebrows knitting together under the brim of his hat. "Said they was lookin' at a ranch for sale. I told 'em, y'all got the wrong ranch. That one ain't for sale. You know them?"

 

Ali shook her head. "I don't. But they just went into my pasture."

 

Mr. Miller tipped his hat back, scratched his neck, and looked at her for a moment. "You're sure they're not with that fella comes here on the motorcycle?"

 

Damn neighbors don't miss a thing. "No, Sir. They're no friends of his. Mine neither. I was just about to call the police. I guess I'll do just that if they come around again."

 

"Or shoot 'em," he said with a wink.

 

"Right." She couldn't help her relieved grin. The adrenaline rush of fear had left her wobbly in its wake. "I reckon I could do that, too. Well, see you around, Mr. Miller. Now that all the excitement's over I'm gonna go open my mail."

 

Mr. Miller touched the brim of his hat and drove along to his driveway. Ali turned back into hers and was almost to the house when she stopped in her tracks, went back to her truck, and retrieved the gun. I'll just keep this on me for now, she thought. Just in case that black Camaro comes around here again.