No Escape

Fear congealed in his stomach as he screamed her name again. He had no idea where she was, but he was already on his way to his car to go find her, keeping the phone pressed to his ear for any signs she was okay.



Dear God, please let her be okay.



Dale had just shut the car door when he heard voices on the other end of the line. “Ma’am?” said a man in a concerned tone.



Someone groaned, and he prayed it was Isabelle. At least if it was her, she was still alive.



“An ambulance is on the way,” said the man. “Don’t try to move.”



Dale’s tires squealed as he sped down the street toward her school. Maybe she was on her way home and he’d see the accident along the way.



“Can you hear me?” he shouted into the phone.



“Dale?” came Isabelle’s voice from far away.



A loud scratching noise filled the phone before the man spoke into it. “You know this woman?” he asked.



“Her name is Isabelle Carson. Where are you?”



“Highway sixty-five, just south of forty-four. Don’t try to come here, though. Highway’s jammed.”



There was no way Dale was just going to sit around and wait to see if she was okay.



“Dale?” It was Isabelle, though she sounded groggy.



“I’m here.”



“I’m fine. Just a little shaken up.”



Relief made him shake hard enough that he had to pull his car over or risk having his own wreck. “You don’t sound fine.”



“I am.”



Dale heard sirens in the background.



“I think I’m going to need you to come get me as soon as we’re finished with the accident report. My car is . . . totaled.”



But she was still alive. That’s all that mattered. She was safe.



“Sure. Just tell me where.”



“I’ll call soon,” she said loud enough to be heard over the wail of sirens. “Don’t worry.”



The line went dead and Dale didn’t move. He couldn’t. He’d almost lost the best thing in his life, and all it took was a split second. Isabelle would be gone and he’d be on his own again. No mom. No Isabelle. Nothing.



He couldn’t let that happen. Not again.



A tap on his car window made him jump. He looked up, and Angela was standing there with the sun lighting her blond hair.



Dale blinked, sure it was just another trick of his overactive imagination. When she didn’t go away, Dale rolled the window down.



“Heya, Dale,” she greeted with a smile so sweet it made his chest ache beneath the hammering of his heart.



“What are you doing here?” he asked because nothing suave or cool leapt to mind.



“I live in that house.” She pointed to the beautifully landscaped two-story house across the street from where his car sat. “I saw you pull up and just sit here. Are you okay?”



He wasn’t, but he also wasn’t about to admit it to the girl of his dreams. He wiped his face, checking for any traces of tears. When they came away wet, he knew his humiliation was complete. There was one girl in the world he wanted, and she had to be the one who saw him cry like a baby. Just his fucking luck.



“Dale?” she said, sounding more concerned by the moment. “What happened?”



Might as well tell her and get it over with. “My foster mom was in a wreck.”



“Oh, God! Is she okay?”



“I don’t know. I mean, I talked to her for a minute, but she sounded bad. She asked me to pick her up.” He ran his hands through his hair, not able to look Angela in the eye. He didn’t want to see her disgust for his weakness, or worse yet, her pity.



“You shouldn’t drive right now. You’re shaking. Let me do it for you, okay?”



Dale looked up in shock. She was offering to help him? After she’d seen him cry? “Why?” he asked, sounding distrustful even to his own ears.



She smiled a little, and Dale was such a bastard he forgot all about Isabelle for a moment. All there was in the world was Angela’s smile and his pounding heart.



“Why not?” she asked. “Move over while I run and get my purse and leave a note for Mom.”



Dale’s brain still hadn’t quite wrapped itself around the idea that he was about to be in the same car with Angela. It seemed too good to be true, especially on the heels of the day he’d had. “I don’t even know where we’re going yet.”



“That’s okay,” she assured him. “We can just drive around for a while until we do.”



“Don’t you have more important things to do?”



“More important than making sure you don’t crash your car, too? I don’t think so.”



Grant’s patience was at an end. After three hours, he was just about to do something drastic, and likely regrettable, to get out of the fucking police station, when Keith came back into the interrogation room.



“Colonel Monroe vouched for you. Mathews is satisfied that you had nothing do to with those previous deaths,” said Keith.



“Thank God,” said Grant, nearly wilting with relief. He was going crazy trapped in here with Isabelle and Amanda out there in danger.



“Since all of the deaths were connected to Lavine, I suggested that Mathews create a list of his family members. He had a big family and some of them were a bit . . . odd. There are a lot of possible suspects there.”



“At least that’s something. Is he going to let us know if any of those people lead anywhere?”



“You need to let him do his job and keep out of it. In fact, you should just leave town and be on your way. The police can handle this.”



“I’m not leaving or letting my guard down until the killer is behind bars and I know Isabelle and Dale are safe.”



Keith’s phone rang and he checked the caller ID. “Speak of the devil,” he said to Grant, then into the phone, “Hi, Isabelle. I thought you were coming down here. Where are you?”



Grant watched as Keith’s face lost all its color. “Okay. Grant is with me. We’re on our way.” He listened for a moment and replied, “I don’t care. We’re coming anyway.”



“What?” demanded Grant as Keith hung up.



“Isabelle was in a car accident. She’s in the hospital.”



A bellow of denial erupted from Grant’s chest as fear and rage swept through him. “Where?”



“I know the way. You can follow me in your car.”



Grant was already heading down the hallway before Keith finished speaking.



CHAPTER FIFTEEN



Grant raced into the emergency room, ignoring the attempts by the staff to stop him from finding Isabelle. He found her behind a partially closed curtain, sitting on a hospital bed. Standing nearby were Dale and a girl Grant didn’t know.



“Grant?” said Isabelle as if surprised to see him.



Isabelle’s face was swollen and she had a black eye. Her shiny hair was a wreck of tangles, and part of one sleeve had been cut away from her shirt. She was awake and alert and, although banged up, she seemed to be fine.



Grant stood there for a long moment, shaking with relief. His knuckles ached from gripping the steering wheel too hard on the way over here. He didn’t think his heart rate would ever drop back to normal.



He went to her, dying to touch her but scared as hell he’d hurt her. So, instead of actually touching her, his hands hovered over her hair and face as he fought back the urge to let them land.



“I’m fine,” she told him. “Didn’t Keith tell you?”



“You’re not fine. You’re in a fucking hospital bed.”



She pinned him with a stern stare. “I’m fine, Grant. Really. You can stop worrying.” She captured his hands in hers, stilling his erratic movements.



Her fingers were cold, and he pressed them against his chest to warm them. He wasn’t sure he was ever going to let her out of his sight again. Not if it meant her getting hurt. Or worse. He’d never survive it. Just hearing the word hospital near Isabelle’s name had stolen years from his life.



“Where’s Keith?” she asked.



“He’s parking his car. I’m sure he’ll be in in a minute.”



“What happened?” Grant asked in a voice that trembled as much as the rest of him. He was sure she could feel the tremors running through his body, and he hated it that he couldn’t be stronger for her right now, when she needed it most.



“My car just . . . stopped working. The steering and brakes went out. I couldn’t stop or avoid traffic, so I ran right into it. It was all my fault.”



“The airbag kept her from being hurt a lot worse,” added Dale.



Grant glanced at him and saw the girl he was with take hold of his hand. “Was anyone else hurt?” he asked Isabelle.



She nodded, and tears welled up in her eyes.



As gently as he knew how, Grant pulled her head against his chest and hugged her, stroking her hair. “It wasn’t your fault,” he whispered to her.



“It was. The car sounded funny when I started it. I shouldn’t have driven it.”



Something about that scenario sparked a memory in Grant’s head. He’d nearly started a truck rigged with explosives once. If Caleb hadn’t stopped him, they’d both be dead.



What if her car trouble wasn’t a coincidence? What if it was the killer’s way of taking her out and, instead of making it look like a suicide, making it look like an accident?



The idea made rage boil up in his throat. He should have thought of something like that before. He should have planned for the killer to change his strategy now that the cops were involved.



Dale knew nothing about this and, out of respect for Isabelle, he wasn’t about to tell him.



Keith came through the door, glaring at Grant for leaving him behind. “They’re going to tow your car. You’re in a red zone.”



“Let them tow it,” said Grant, refusing to take his eyes off of Isabelle long enough to move it. Not until he got this sense of helpless panic out of his system.



“I’ll move it,” offered Dale.



“Are they keeping you here tonight?” Grant wanted to know where he’d be sleeping tonight—at her home or here in the hospital with her. No way was he leaving her unguarded.



“No. They’re finishing up the paperwork so I can go home.”



Grant nodded and pulled some cash out of his wallet. He gave it to Dale, along with the keys to the Mustang. “After you move my car, why don’t the two of you pick up some food—something we can reheat easily—and go home. I’ll bring Isabelle back as soon as they’re done with her here.”



“What do you want, Isabelle?” asked Dale.



“Anything’s fine. I’m not sure I’m going to be able to eat, anyway.”



Dale looked down at his pretty friend and his eyes sparkled with the serious crush he had on the girl. “I can drop you off on the way back.”



She gave Dale a shy smile. “Or I could go with you and help you carry the food,” she offered.



Dale didn’t appear to know how to respond to her offer, and his throat was moving like he couldn’t get it to work, so Grant stepped in. “That would be great,” he told her.