Fatal Recall. Carol J. Post

into his thoughts. “To the police department.”

      “Yeah.” The other direction would have taken them to Andrews, then Murphy. Murphy had a hospital. He’d seen it—Murphy Medical Center. He didn’t want to risk leading anyone to his new hometown. But unless Kat made an amazing recovery over the next twenty-four hours, she’d need someone to keep an eye on her.

      She wasn’t his responsibility. But until she figured out where she belonged, she wasn’t anybody’s responsibility. He couldn’t just dump her. The role of protector was too deeply ingrained.

      He shifted position to pull his phone from his pocket, then handed it to Kat. “See if we have service yet.”

      “Two bars.”

      “Can you pull up directions to the Bryson City Police Department?”

      Her thumbs flew over the screen. A half minute later, a computerized voice informed him that he was on the fastest route.

      When he looked at her again, she was chewing her lower lip.

      “You okay?”

      She sighed. “What if I’ve done something terrible and they arrest me?”

      “You look more like a victim than a criminal.”

      She gave him a weak smile. “Thanks.”

      As they approached town, he took a brush from the console and ran it through his hair. When he started to put it back, she stopped him.

      “Do you mind?”

      “Go right ahead.”

      She removed the elastic band from the end of the braid and slipped it around her wrist. “If I’m going to jail, I at least want to look halfway decent.”

      After working the tresses loose, she shook them out, then went to work with the brush. Soon her hair flowed over both shoulders in shiny black waves, falling all the way to her waist. Even after spending the last two days in the woods, she was beautiful.

      Not that it mattered to him. Those were the ones to worry about. The beautiful ones. Especially around deceitful best friends.

      Up ahead, Highway 74 broke from 19, veering off to the right. As Tanner took the exit, remaining on 74, he checked his mirrors. The auto parts truck followed him. So did the car he’d been watching. That didn’t mean anything. Highway 74 was well traveled.

      At the instruction of the GPS, he moved into the left lane. The truck driver flew past with a wave and two toots of his horn. The car followed him and Kat. He forced himself to relax. Maybe the driver had business in Bryson City, too.

      “Is everything okay?”

      He glanced in the rearview mirror again. “We might have a tail.” At her gasp, he continued, “Don’t turn around. Just be ready to call 911.”

      “According to the GPS, we’re less than a mile from the police department.”

      Tanner turned on his signal and made a right.

      “Academy Street?”

      “I’m taking the scenic route.” He moved down the street, frequently checking his mirror. A half minute later, the car followed. After two more turns, it was still behind him.

      “Call 911, then hand me the phone.”

      He wouldn’t head to the station. Otherwise the assailant would take off. Instead, he’d let the police come to them.

      Kat did as he asked, then slid down in the seat as much as the belt would allow. Creases of concern marked the bridge of her nose, and her hands were curled into fists.

      When the dispatcher came on, Tanner explained the situation and relayed what he knew about the vehicle, which wasn’t much. Boxy, older model, lighter color. It was still too far back to identify the driver or even tell if someone occupied the passenger seat.

      Before Tanner could finish his report, the car made a sudden left turn. He blew out a frustrated breath and jammed on his brakes. “He knows we’re onto him.”

      After turning around in the parking lot of a local business, he went in pursuit. For the next ten minutes, he combed the streets of Bryson City. So did the officer who was dispatched. Neither had any success. The car had vanished.

      He braked at a stop sign. “I’m sorry. I’d really hoped we’d catch him.”

      “Me, too.”

      “Let’s get that police report made.”

      With her wide eyes and creases of worry lining her face, she looked like a lamb being led to slaughter.

      His heart twisted. He couldn’t help her. He didn’t know any more than she did about what they would find.

      And though he’d love to say something that would take away the desperation he sensed, he wouldn’t lie to her.

      Or give her reassurances he couldn’t back up.