30. Cici
CICI
The black SUV stayed behind me as I pulled away from The Dock House.
I checked my rearview mirror again.
Still there.
The stranger's words replayed through my head.
Congratulations.
Then the warning.
I'd be careful if I were you.
A chill ran down my spine.
I tightened my grip on the steering wheel and glanced at the phone sitting in the passenger seat.
The last person I wanted to call was Todd Archer.
I was still angry, still hurt, but this man knew I was pregnant, he knew things he shouldn't know, and somehow I knew this had something to do with Todd. I picked up the phone and hit his name, and he answered before the first ring finished.
"Cici."
I swallowed.
"Something weird just happened."
His voice immediately sharpened.
"Are you okay?"
"I don't know. I think I am, but someone is following me."
"Where are you now?"
"I just left The Dock House."
I told him about the stranger. The way he just sat down at my table. The warning. The fact that he knew I was pregnant.
"Don't go home. Go to the nearest police station."
He didn't have to tell me twice. I had the same thought.
Silence filled the line for several seconds.
"Todd?"
"I just passed you."
I frowned.
"What?"
"I just passed your car. I'm turning around."
My pulse jumped. I heard his wheels squeal as he maneuvered the turn around.
Then he started speaking again. This time his voice had changed.
Completely.
"Cici, listen to me very carefully."
Every nerve in my body went on alert.
"The black SUV behind you."
I looked in the mirror.
The vehicle was still there.
"I've seen it before. It's been in my neighborhood a few times. It followed me one day while I was on my run."
"That's Ethan Vale."
"Who's Ethan Vale? What does he want with me?"
I stared at the mirror.
The SUV seemed larger now.
Closer.
"He used to work for me."
The answer came immediately.
"He planted the files on your computer."
I felt like all the air had left the vehicle.
"What?"
"He planted everything."
The road blurred for a second before I forced myself to focus.
"What? Why?"
"He wanted revenge."
"What do you mean? You're not making sense."
"I fired him."
I gripped the wheel harder.
"Why me?"
His answer came quietly.
"Because he knew you mattered to me."
I didn't know what to say to that.
My eyes drifted back to the mirror.
The SUV was definitely closer.
Much closer.
"Todd."
"I see him."
"He's getting closer."
"I know."
The calmness in his voice somehow made everything worse.
"How much farther to the police station?" he asked.
"About ten minutes."
A curse slipped from his mouth.
"Todd?"
I glanced in the mirror again. The SUV continued closing the distance.
Far too quickly.
A moment later Todd spoke.
"I'm behind you."
Relief hit me so suddenly I almost cried.
"You are?"
"I can see your Saab."
I exhaled.
"Gotcha, I can see your Rover behind Ethan."
The words barely registered before the black SUV surged forward.
My pulse spiked.
"What’s he doing?"
The vehicle moved closer, then shifted into the other lane as if to pass me, but suddenly swerved back into my lane, forcing me to jerk the wheel.
"What the hell?"
"Cici!"
My heart slammed against my ribs.
"He just came into my lane."
"I know."
"Todd, he's trying to hit me."
"Stay calm."
Easy for him to say.
The SUV drifted toward me again.
The shoulder rushed past on my right.
There was nowhere to go.
"Cici."
Todd's voice cut through the panic.
"Breathe."
I sucked in a shaky breath.
"Think."
Another breath.
"You know how to do this."
I closed my eyes for half a second, then opened them. He was right, fear wasn't helping. Training would.
I forced myself into the same mindset I used in the cockpit.
Problem.
Solution.
Analyze.
Distance.
Speed.
Road position.
Traffic.
The SUV lunged toward me again, more aggressively this time, trying to crowd me onto the shoulder and force a mistake, but I refused to give him one.
The road curved gently ahead.
A police cruiser sat on the shoulder running radar.
Hope flared inside me.
"Todd."
"I see him."
The horn two vehicles back suddenly blared, long and loud, again and again.
I looked in the mirror. Todd was flashing his headlights. Laying on the horn.
The officer looked up. His attention shifted from Todd's vehicle to mine. Then to the black SUV in between us.
Ethan made another move. The officer's posture changed instantly. A second later the patrol car pulled onto the roadway. Blue lights exploded behind us.
For one brief moment I thought it was over. I was wrong. Ethan surged forward.
"What is he doing?" I yelled.
"He sees the police."
He came at me again, hard, aggressive, and desperate.
This time I was ready. I eased off the accelerator and shifted position.
Just enough.
Ethan committed to the maneuver.
Too much.
Too fast.
Ethan drifted wider than he intended. His rear tires lost traction. The vehicle fishtailed violently.
One correction. Then another.
The officer closed the distance. The SUV swung sideways, making him lose control completely.
"Oh my God."
The vehicle left the roadway, slid across the shoulder, dropped into the ditch, and then crashed into a pine tree. Metal screamed, glass exploded, airbags deployed, and suddenly everything became quiet.
I stared at the wreckage, unable to move, unable to breathe, my hands trembling against the steering wheel. The driver's door flew open behind me, Todd. I barely had time to put the car in park before he reached me, the door opening as strong hands grabbed my shoulders.
"Cici."
I looked up.
His face was pale.
Terrified.
"Cici."
"I'm okay."
He pulled me against him anyway, holding me so tightly I could barely breathe. I felt his heart pounding, felt his hands shaking, and for several seconds neither of us spoke.
Sirens echoed in the distance as the officer rushed toward the wrecked SUV, more emergency vehicles appearing while everything around us became movement and noise.
But Todd never let go.
Eventually I pulled back enough to look at him. Really look at him.
For the first time since he'd walked out of my house. For the first time since he'd looked at me like he didn't know who I was.
I saw the truth.
He had been terrified.
Not of Ethan.
Not of the crash.
Of losing me.
Nothing about that fit the story I'd been telling myself.
I understood it and I believed it, but forgiveness was something else entirely.
And I wasn't there yet.