If I Live by Terri Blackstock

Author:Terri Blackstock
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Zondervan
Published: 2018-01-31T05:00:00+00:00

30

DYLAN

When I hear her voice I almost run off the road. My eyes sting as gratitude rushes through me. Thank you, God. “Casey, are you all right?”

“Yes.” I can hear wind rushing into her phone. “I got away.” Her voice bounces as if she’s walking, and she’s out of breath. “My phone’s about to die. I’m walking down Highway 14, behind the buildings. I’m behind a furniture store that’s about half a mile down from a BP station right now. There’s a sign on the gate that says Brainard Furniture. I guess I need to call a taxi but they’ll recognize me.”

“I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“You’re here? In Memphis?”

“Yes! I was trying to beat Keegan here. Where is he?”

“Looking for me. I left blood in his car. He’s probably trying to clean it before he reports my escape.”

I turn my car around and follow its GPS. “Are you hurt? Do you need an ambulance?”

“No!” she almost shouts, then she lowers her voice. “I bit my cheek to draw blood. I’m fine. Please hurry. He’s desperate.”

“Stay on the phone with me. Don’t hang up.”

“It’s about to die.”

I see the Highway 14 sign and I turn. “Casey, I’m coming from I-40—are you north or south on Highway 14?”

She hesitates. “I’m not sure.”

“Hold on, I’m looking for the furniture store.”

“It should be about two m—”

The call cuts out. “Casey?” I’ve lost her, but I’ve figured out that I’m going the wrong way. I pull over into the left lane and turn around. Then I speed toward her, my eyes scanning the lit buildings for the BP station or the furniture store.

There it is, up ahead, on the left. I almost hit a car as I speed past it. I see something ahead in the dark.

There she is. I recognize her frame. She comes running toward me as I pull into the parking lot. I lean over and unlock the door to let her in.

She slides into the passenger seat and throws her arms around my neck. I kiss her face and realize mine is wet. I don’t want to let go, but I hold her at arm’s length to check her out. Her hands and arms are scraped, and both of her wrists are swollen. Her shoulder is still bandaged and there’s blood dotting the gauze.

“I’m not dead,” she says. “That’s what matters. We have to get out of this part of town.”

I turn the car around and drive back into traffic. We’re quiet as I try to decide where I should go. I head back to the interstate, intending to get out of this town. When we’re far enough away for her to feel safe, she seems to wilt.

“He was taking me . . . to the middle of nowhere . . . and he was going to kill me and leave me there, then stage another murder and leave my personal effects at the scene. He may be setting me up right now.”

My mind races. Yes, he would do that.

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