LITMIR.BIZ

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Leaving her headlights off, she turned back the way she had come, away from the police car. Two intersections later she turned right and headed north as quickly as the speed limit would allow.

      'She must have seen the bloody cop car.' Vaughn's irritation was barely controlled as Mark returned to their vehicle and related what the cafe attendant had observed.

      'Why didn't she go straight to the police?' Mark mused, replacing the photo of Breeanna he had shown the attendant in his jacket pocket. 'Wouldn't that be your first reaction if you'd been attacked?'

      'Perhaps she's like us. Perhaps she wants it for herself, doesn't want the word to get out. If it's as valuable as we've been told, then it would be tempting.'

      'Maybe she doesn't know who to trust.'

      Vaughn lit up a cigarette as he looked at the younger man. What was he getting at?

      'You'd just killed someone in front of her,' Mark explained. 'How was she to know she could trust you? Perhaps I should approach her next time.'

      Average in looks and height, Talbert had a kind face most people instinctively trusted. There was sense in what he was saying, but Vaughn was reluctant to let him be involved any more than was necessary. When Vaughn had received the details on this case, it had seemed like the opportunity he'd been waiting for. The chance to make some real money. Although well paid for his services, he hungered for more. And if what he suspected were true, an even more precious prize could be at stake. At fifty-nine, he was beginning to feel the limitations his age was placing on his body, and knew his days in the field were numbered. And the generous payout that would be made to him could never buy what he wanted. He exhaled smoke out the window and reached for the laptop at his feet. Police were covering the homes of the Montgomery woman's friends, but perhaps there was something he had overlooked. The screen glowed into life, and he quickly scanned the relevant files.

      Nothing. Nothing he hadn't already covered. She hadn't gone to her sister or her uncle, so she was either still running or was hiding somewhere. He tempered his urge to swear. Giving in to frustration wouldn't help. He couldn't risk making a mistake. There was too much to lose.

      The red light on Breeanna's fuel gauge began to glow. Although it meant she could travel about another sixty or so kilometres, she would prefer to fill up now in case the man who'd shot her attacker caught up with her.

      Aware of the higher police presence on the major freeways, she had driven through suburban streets, her gaze flicking constantly to her rear-view mirror. In the past ten minutes she had decided to drive north for a few hours and book in at a caravan park while she worked out what to do next. She'd managed to eat her burger while driving, and now the thought of a cup of coffee was tantalising. The shock of what she'd witnessed had worn off, and a shot of caffeine might help to keep her alert as she drove. A service station with a cafe attached seemed like a good idea.

      A couple of times in the past five minutes she'd had the feeling she was being followed, but the only car consistently behind her appeared to be driven by someone whose attention was focused more on weaving from lane to lane than keeping up with Breeanna's white Laser.

      Another ten minutes passed before Breeanna spotted a service station with the longed-for cafe. A group of teenagers spilled out through the doors, laughing and shouting. Breeanna pulled in and parked in front of the bowser. She took her bag and locked the car, keeping a watchful eye on approaching traffic. By the time she'd finished filling the tank other vehicles were waiting, so she drove her car to a parking space against the boundary fence.

      She paid the attendant, walked through to the cafe and ordered coffee. A young couple walked up to the counter, and Breeanna stepped away, backing up against a stand of bread and groceries. A horn blew and she glanced outside to where the teenagers were making impolite gestures at a car speeding along the street.

      Movement near her Laser caught her eye. A man, solidly built and average in height, was moving from her driver's side door and around the back of her car. Apprehension snaked up her spine as he stopped at the front passenger door. Two seconds later he walked back up the row of parked cars as though he were heading towards the service station. At the last car he walked around to the passenger side, placed his forearm on the roof, and leaned down slightly to speak to the passenger. As he did so, his suit coat lifted and revealed a shadow, dark against the white of his shirt. A shadow that could, without any imagination, assume the shape of a shoulder holster.

      The attendant called her number. With shaking hands she grabbed her coffee and retreated behind the grocery stand, sipping on the steaming liquid, and watched again.

      The man was now walking towards the service station, his determined pace matching the expression on his face.

      Breeanna shrank back, heart pounding. He wasn't the man who'd shot her attacker, but his movements were suspicious. Too suspicious to disregard. Of all the cars parked out there, why would he be checking hers? No, it wasn't coincidence, and as he got closer to the cafe her trepidation grew.

      The urge to run to her car and speed away was strong, but logic told her that she wouldn't get away this time. Whoever had located and followed her must be a professional. The door of the service station section slid open and Breeanna watched him walk up to the cash register operator and hold out a photograph.

      Breeanna strode back to the cafe counter, her mind racing. Pushing in front of another customer, she asked the attendant for the location of the ladies' toilet, and he pointed towards a corridor at the end of the room. Still clutching her coffee, she walked briskly past lemon-coloured walls to a closed door with a Ladies sign attached, and noticed the corridor branched to the right, ending in two doors marked Staff Only. She tried one. A storage room. She opened the other. A handbasin and mirror were attached to the wall, and an open door revealed a toilet.

      Damn! She was trapped. Then she saw another door at the side of the room. It had a lock which required a key to open it from the outside. Without hesitating she wrenched it open, and found herself behind the building.

      She forced down the panic rising in her chest and looked around. A closed roller-doored workshop with Mechanic painted on it stood to her right. Parked in front were a large refrigerated truck and a smaller truck with a high canvas-covered back. As she stood there, frantically considering her options, a stout figure in crumpled pants and flannelette shirt strolled around the service station corner, munching on a spring roll and fries. Breeanna placed her coffee on the ground and pretended to fix the strap on her shoe as she watched him climb into the cabin of the smaller truck and close the door.

      After only a slight hesitation, she made up her mind. Before the truck's engine rumbled into life, she raced across and released one of the clips securing the canvas cover at the back. Grateful she'd chosen to wear pants instead of a skirt that morning, she stepped onto the tow-bar and hauled herself inside. The truck lurched into reverse and she rolled forward, banging her arm on a big wooden box. She stifled her cry of pain, and gripped the box for support as the truck moved off.

      It was only when the vehicle had been travelling for what seemed like hours, but she knew could only have been about thirty minutes, that she dared to look out through the gap in the canvas.

      As she recognised the route the driver had taken, Breeanna realised that fate had chosen her course of action for her.

      Mark walked to where Vaughn waited near Breeanna Montgomery's car. When their associate had informed them that Breeanna had purchased fuel and gone into the cafe, they had closed in, hoping to trap her, and Vaughn had sent Mark to check on her while he waited.

      'Well?' Impatience edged Vaughn's voice.

      'The cafe attendant said she asked for the toilet. He saw her go in, but he didn't see her come out. I checked. The toilet was empty and has no exit, but a staff toilet further along has access to the yard and workshop out the back.'

      'So we've lost her.'

      Mark nodded. 'It looks like it. She's definitely not in the building, and I searched the surrounds.' He watched the other man's reaction with interest. He knew Vaughn lived and breathed his job, but something personal had entered into this case. Something

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