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The sun had given way to rain. More than a drizzle, less than a steady rain. Kat flipped up her hood. Mitch’s P.P.B. windbreaker didn’t have one, so he rushed ahead and unlocked the doors.
In the car, he handed over the paper from Franklin. “Can you call the garage to see if the wreck is still there or if they got rid of it for salvage?”
“Sure.”
He headed out of town, and she dug out her phone. On Highway 30, he paid close attention to the two-lane road. With slick rain, the road could be as dangerous as Franklin had indicated. Kat chatted with the tow company, and he could tell by her questions that they no longer had Bodig’s vehicle.
“The car’s at a salvage yard.” She dialed another number. “Let’s pray it hasn’t been crushed for scrap yet.”
She was right. They should pray. But then he should pray all the time. He just couldn’t seem to manage it. He’d held on to his faith when his dad died just after Mitch turned fifteen, and when Angie turned to drugs. He’d even kept praying after his mom’s death. But when Lori was gunned down and everyone he’d ever loved was taken from him, he knew God no longer cared for him or those he loved. So he’d shut himself off from other people and from God.
But if what Kat said earlier was true, maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe God was still there. And maybe He’d brought Kat into his life again to show him that.
He glanced at her as she concentrated while a rumbling male voice barked at her over the phone. The little bit of a woman holding her own with the surly man brought a smile to his lips.
“How can you not know if the vehicle is there?” Frustration bit into her tone and she took several deep breaths. What followed was kinder, softer. As if she remembered she could get more cooperation using honey. And she could. At least with him. With her sweet tone feeling like a soft smile, resisting her was going to be harder than he first thought.
Seriously, Elliot. You’re acting like an adolescent boy.
He rolled his eyes at his behavior and caught sight in the rearview mirror of a white van fast approaching. He took a better look. Spotted a logo on the hood. Blinked and looked again. The same van as last night.
Nancy’s killer was following them.
Mitch didn’t want to panic Kat so he didn’t say anything but kept an eye on the van. As they reached a narrow turn, the vehicle sped up and the driver gunned the engine.
They were approaching Bodig’s accident site. If their theory was right, the killer had drugged Bodig and forced him off the road. Maybe the driver had the same plans for the two of them, minus the drugs.
“You need to get off the phone,” Mitch said with urgency.
She cupped her hand over it. “I’ll just be another minute.”
He looked up again. The van was now only a few car lengths behind. “A minute’s too long.”
“What’s going on?”
He jerked his head toward the rearview mirror. “You need to brace yourself. It looks like Nancy’s killer is about to run us off the road.”
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