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Trev turned his attention to the windows. His car appeared to be flush against the side of the station wagon. He couldn't see anyone inside. |
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But as he studied the car, he saw another in the glow of his headlights. A compact Dodge. Its rear against the front bumper of the wagon. |
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An intentional roadblock? |
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He stepped on the gas pedal. His car lurched forward with sounds of scraping, crunching metal. Then it parted with the side of the wagon and the noises stopped. |
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'What's going on?' Francine demanded. |
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Trev didn't answer. He backed up, watching the wagon. Parked at its rear was a pickup truck. |
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'It's a trap,' he said, trying to keep his voice calm. |
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'Make sure your doors are locked,' he said, and the car rocked on its shocks. He darted his eyes to the rearview mirror. Couldn't see anything but darkness. Couldn't see the man or woman scuttling over the trunk toward the back window. But the slight shaking of the car told him someone was there. |
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A hard thud against the rear window. He shot the car forward and heard a muffled outcry. |
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'Lost a visitor,' Trev said, and wrenched the wheel, |
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