Chapter 2 - THE ROAD WITH NO EXITVanessa grabbed the wheel just as the Jeep entered a sharp curve.
The tires crossed the center line.
An oncoming pickup blasted its horn and swerved. Riley struck Vanessa’s wrist away and pulled the Jeep back into its lane. The vehicle fishtailed across the wet pavement before straightening.
“What are you doing?” Riley shouted.
“Stop the car!”
“Not while armed men are behind us.”
“You don’t understand what’s in that bag.”
“Then explain it.”
Vanessa reached again.
Riley drove one-handed while blocking her with her elbow. Trent leaned between the seats and pulled his mother back.
“Mom, stop!”
Vanessa struck his shoulder. “Let go of me.”
“Dad just called Riley from a phone recovered from his burned car,” Trent said. “I think we’re past pretending everything is normal.”
In the mirror, two sets of headlights appeared around the curve.
The black SUVs.
Riley pushed the Jeep harder.
The service road ran through dense woods before connecting with the highway. Daniel had taught her to drive there when she was fourteen, long before the state would issue her a license. He had made her practice on ice, gravel, and mud.
A driver did not control the road, he used to say. A driver controlled the next decision.
Riley looked at Vanessa.
“Why did Dad tell me not to trust you?”
“Because someone wanted you to hear him say it.”
“That sounded like him.”
“Voices can be copied.”
“Did you know he was alive?”
Vanessa’s silence answered more than words could.
The first SUV closed the distance.
Trent twisted in his seat. “They’re coming fast.”
The SUV struck the Jeep’s rear bumper.
Metal slammed against metal. The impact threw Vanessa forward and forced Riley’s hands against the wheel. Daniel’s bag fell near the pedals.
Riley accelerated.
The SUV hit them again.
“Do something!” Trent yelled.
“I’m trying to keep us alive.”
The road widened ahead, dividing into two lanes before a narrow bridge. A maintenance truck occupied the right lane. The left side was bordered by a low concrete barrier and a steep drop toward a frozen river.
Riley watched the SUV in the mirror.
Its driver moved left, preparing to force them against the barrier.
Riley waited.
Vanessa looked at her. “Why are you slowing down?”
“Because they expect me to run.”
The SUV surged beside them.
Riley braked hard.
The larger vehicle shot forward. Its driver overcorrected, clipping the rear corner of the maintenance truck. Sparks scattered from the collision. The SUV spun sideways and struck the concrete barrier.
It did not go over, but it blocked both lanes.
The second SUV swerved around the wreck and continued after them.
Riley reached the bridge.
A warning light flashed ahead. The drawbridge was beginning to rise for a barge passing below.
Trent gripped the front seats. “We can’t make that.”
Riley glanced behind them.
The second SUV was less than fifty yards away.
“We don’t need to cross,” she said. “We need them to think we will.”
She accelerated toward the opening bridge.
Vanessa’s face tightened. “Riley.”
“Trust me.”
“That is not something your family has made easy.”
At the last possible moment, Riley pulled the emergency brake, turned the wheel, and sent the Jeep into a controlled slide. It rotated near the bridge entrance and stopped facing the pursuing SUV.
The other driver had expected them to jump the gap. He had no room to stop.
Riley drove directly toward him.
Trent shouted.
The SUV swerved first.
Its front wheel struck the raised curb. The vehicle rolled onto its side and slid across the pavement, showering sparks. Riley guided the Jeep past it with inches to spare.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Trent released a breath that sounded like a laugh.
“Dad taught you that?”
“No. Dad told me never to do that.”
The Jeep’s engine temperature warning appeared.
A thin trail of smoke rose from beneath the hood.
Riley turned onto an abandoned toll road and drove until the engine lost power. The Jeep coasted into the empty parking lot of a closed roadside diner.
Wind pushed dry leaves across the pavement.
Vanessa climbed out and walked several steps away before bending forward, hands on her knees.
Trent opened the damaged hood.
“We aren’t going anywhere.”
Riley carried Daniel’s bag inside the diner through a broken side door. Dust covered the booths. The kitchen had been stripped of appliances, but the walls provided shelter from the wind.
Vanessa entered behind her.
“Give me the phone,” she said.
Riley kept it in her pocket. “Tell me what happened before Dad’s crash.”
Vanessa lowered her voice. “Daniel believed someone inside the state government was arranging public contracts through shell companies. Roads, hospitals, emergency systems. Billions of dollars.”
“And Grant Vale was involved?”
“Daniel thought he was.”
“Did you?”
“I thought your father had become obsessed.”
Riley stepped closer. “That isn’t an answer.”
Vanessa looked at Daniel’s bag.
“Three nights before his vehicle went off the bridge, he asked me to leave with him. He said we needed to disappear. I refused.”
“Why?”
“Because he would not tell me where we were going. He would not tell me whether Trent could come. He only said I had to trust him.”
Riley’s anger cooled just enough for doubt to enter.
“What did you tell Grant?”
Vanessa’s eyes shifted.
Riley understood.
“You told him Dad wanted to run.”
“He was our attorney.”
“He was Dad’s suspect.”
“I didn’t know that then.”
A board creaked in the kitchen.
Riley raised one finger, signaling silence.
Trent picked up a broken chair leg.
A figure moved behind the serving counter.
Riley stepped around the end of the booths. A woman in a dark coat emerged with a handgun aimed at the floor.
“Riley Mercer?”
“Who are you?”
“Detective Lena Ortiz. State investigations.”
Vanessa backed away. “You followed us.”
“I followed the men following you.”
“Put down the gun,” Riley said.
Ortiz slowly set it on a table.
“I worked with your father.”
“Is he alive?”
Ortiz looked at the phone in Riley’s hand. “Did someone contact you?”
“My father did.”
“No,” Ortiz said firmly. “Someone used his voice.”
Riley studied her expression.
“You’re sure?”
“I saw Daniel after the crash.”
Vanessa covered her mouth.
Riley felt the room tilt. “You saw his body?”
Ortiz did not answer immediately.
Outside, a sharp crack split the night.
The diner window shattered.
Ortiz tackled Riley behind a booth as a second round struck the wall. Trent pulled Vanessa to the floor.
“Sniper!” Ortiz shouted.
They crawled toward the kitchen.
A third shot punched through the door, knocking the chair leg from Trent’s hand.
Ortiz recovered her weapon. “There’s an old toll station behind the building. Concrete walls. Go!”
They ran through the rear exit.
Bullets struck the pavement around them. Riley kept low, one arm over Daniel’s bag. Vanessa stumbled, and Riley caught her before she fell.
They reached the toll station and slammed the metal door.
Ortiz checked the narrow window.
“The shooter is repositioning.”
A vehicle approached from the opposite side.
Riley raised the handgun Ortiz had given her.
The headlights stopped outside.
A lone figure stepped into view.
Trent.
Riley looked around the room.
The toll station was empty.
She had seen Trent run behind them, yet somehow he was now outside—and he was holding a gun.
“Trent?” Vanessa called.
He aimed through the window at Riley.
May you like
His face was white with fear.
“Put the bag on the floor,” he said. “Then get on your knees.”
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