LITMIR.BIZ

       ONE

      Blake Harrison pulled the hood of his jacket over his head and sprinted through the deluge. Nothing like a cold November downpour to cap off an exhausting week.

      He slid into the seat of his BMW and pushed the hood away from his face. Dealing with multiple off-quality batches had kept him late every night this week.

      If they didn’t get a handle on their production issues soon, they ran a serious risk of missing shipments and losing customers. Losing customers meant losing jobs and Harrison Plastics International hadn’t laid off an employee in sixty-three years. He didn’t want to be the first Harrison in three generations to break faith with their employees. Their friends.

      He shook off the gloominess. They’d had issues before and had overcome them without having to resort to personnel cuts. He had confidence in his engineering team. They’d get things working again. He’d be able to relax after he had a decent meal, a story time with his little Maggie-moo and a full eight-hour visit with his pillow.

      He pulled out of the HPI parking lot and began the half-mile drive to his home. The rain made it hard to see the lines on the pavement and he kept his speed low as he entered the sharp curve marking the halfway point to his driveway.

      Headlights coming up way too fast flashed in his rearview mirror. Didn’t that guy have the good sense to slow down? At least he wouldn’t have to deal with him on his tail for long.

      Without warning, the headlights grew larger in his mirror and a sudden impact threw him forward before the seat belt slammed him back into his seat. He tried to steer as the BMW skidded across the road but lost control on the wet pavement and crashed into the opposite ditch, tail-first.

      He didn’t know how long he sat there, hands clenched around the wheel. As his breathing slowed, he took a quick inventory. He could move his arms and legs. His neck and back would be killing him tomorrow, but he didn’t think he’d suffered any major damage. He breathed a prayer of thanksgiving as he groped around in the seat for his cell phone to call for a tow truck.

      Before he could find it, the passenger-side door flew open. He blinked in the brightness from the dome lights and tried to focus on the dark shape leaning into his car. He caught a glimpse of big green eyes filled with concern before a slender finger stretched out and extinguished the light.

      “Can you move?” He could barely make out the words over the pounding rain. A small hand gripped his arm. “Blake? You have to focus.”

      What on earth?

      She moved closer and unbuckled his seat belt. “Can you move?”

      “Yes. What are you—”

      “Then move!” She reached around the steering wheel, pushed open the driver’s-side door and shoved him out into the downpour. He slipped on the bank and had just gotten his footing when she grabbed his hand. “Let’s go. We have to get out of here.”

      “Hey.” He shook her off. “I’m not going anywhere with you. I don’t know you. I have to find my phone and—”

      “Do you have a death wish?”

      “What?”

      “They’re turning around. We have to get away from the car.”

      Turning around? The meaning of her words soaked in. They’d hit him on purpose?

      “This way.” When her hand clasped his, he allowed her to pull him away from the wreckage and up the bank. As they dove into the trees, headlights flashed around the curve and the air filled with the unmistakable sound of metal dragging across asphalt.

      He turned and watched in horror as a massive truck sped away from the mangled remains of his car.

      “—close.” The mystery woman had her phone to her ear. “Send an ambulance.”

      “I don’t need an ambulance,” he said. “I need answers.” Why would anyone do this? He didn’t have any enemies. Well, a few, but none that would run him off the road and try to kill him. “Who are you?”

      The sound of sirens pierced the air and she backed away. “Who I am doesn’t matter. In fact, it would be best if you don’t mention me to the authorities at all.”

      She disappeared into the woods faster than he would have thought possible. He could try to follow her, but in the dark and rain, he wouldn’t have a clue which direction she’d gone. He stared at the spot where she’d disappeared and called out, “Thank you,” before sliding back down the bank as the first police car pulled to the side, lights flashing blue and eerie in the gloom.

      The next few hours passed in a haze of images. Police and ambulance lights illuminating the surrounding forest. The officer telling him an anonymous caller had reported the accident. His dad standing beside the remains of the car, shaking his head in disbelief. The smell of gasoline mixed with the scent of torn earth. The EMTs insisting he ride to the hospital in the ambulance. His sister, Caroline, clad in hot pink rain boots and jacket, tears streaming down her face when she saw him in the emergency room. His mother’s relieved voice when he spoke to her and his daughter, Maggie, assuring them he’d be home soon.

      One CT scan and several exams later, they released him as Saturday dawned clear and cool. Caroline drove with extra caution, for her, and took him straight to their parents’ home to pick up Maggie. Through it all, not one person suggested he’d been the victim of an attempted murder. The police were treating it as a hit-and-run. Given his minimal injuries, and knowing he carried plenty of car insurance, he doubted the investigation would go far.

      He didn’t know why he hadn’t mentioned the mystery woman’s involvement. Not even to his dad. There had never seemed to be a good time to bring it up.

      But she’d been there. She’d appeared out of nowhere, jumped into his car and pushed him to safety, risking her own life in the process. And somehow she’d known his attacker would turn around to try again.

      Which left him with two burning questions.

      When the driver, whoever they were, found out he had survived, what then?

      And who was she?

      * * *

      FBI Special Agent Heidi Zimmerman pulled through a fast-food drive-through minutes before they stopped serving breakfast. She’d spent the night at the hospital keeping an eye on the Harrisons while a tactical operations crew worked in the rain to install surveillance equipment at all three of the Harrisons’

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