Authors: Shelia Lowe

Written In Blood (33 page)

BOOK: Written In Blood

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She chanced a glance in the side mirror. The Escalade was a higher-profile vehicle and more powerful, and Bert was staying on their tail with ease. She could tell he was playing with her, viciously mocking when the Escalade lightly kissed the Saturn’s bumper.

The speedometer hit 105 and she couldn’t push the Saturn any more. With the low visibility, they might end up in a ditch.

A movement in the side mirror caught her eye. Bert, leaning out of the driver window. Too late, Claudia remembered he was left-handed.

Sparks flashed on the road just ahead of them. Could he hit a moving target?

The next shot smashed the side-view mirror.

“Get down low and get those kids on the floor,” Claudia yelled to Annabelle, instinctively yanking the wheel to the right. The children in the backseat would be vulnerable if a bullet came through the trunk. The accelerator was mashed to the floor. How could she hope to outrun him when their vehicles were so badly mismatched?

The Escalade started to move to their left, but instead of coming alongside them it nudged the edge of the Saturn’s bumper, nearly wrenching the wheel out of Claudia’s hands. Annabelle screamed and dropped the cellular to the floor. The two little ones started crying.

Claudia hit the brakes. The ABS kicked in and the brake pedal vibrated madly under her foot.

Boom!
The SUV slammed into them again, harder, pushing the Saturn across the lane. She fought for control, but they were sliding left, toward the metal rail at the side of the road. Less than a foot from the rail, she jerked hard on the wheel, swerving back toward the center of the roadway.

“Shit! Shit! Shit!”
Her jaw was clenched so tight her teeth hurt. Pulling the rearview mirror down, she saw the Escalade veer across the lane, coming straight at them like something from a nightmare.

The Escalade bumped them, then Bert lost control and the SUV was spinning—once, twice. It brushed the metal guardrail and the wheels on the driver’s side went airborne. In slow motion, the Escalade’s left side lifted, flipped, and came down on its roof, sliding . . . sliding . . . sliding.

It all seemed to happen in eerie silence as metal buckled and glass shattered. Fifty yards down the road, Claudia hit the brakes.

She was shaking uncontrollably as she popped the trunk lever and opened her door. “Stay in the car with the kids,” she ordered Annabelle, who was already halfway onto the road. “Call 911 back and tell them to send an ambulance.”

“No way,” the old defiant Annabelle shot back. “I want to see.”

“Please, don’t give me a hard time.”

“That’s bogus! I’m not staying—”

“
Annabelle!
This is
not
a fucking game. I need you to take care of those kids, and I need you to call the cops.
Do you understand me?
”

Annabelle flounced back into the car, her mouth set into a sullen pout. “
Fine!
But I don’t think it’s
fair.
”

“Your objection is duly noted,” Claudia muttered, slamming the door shut and pocketing the keys. In the trunk’s wheel well, along with the spare tire, was the jack, a tire iron, and a heavy Maglite like the one Jovanic kept in his car. She found some flares and took them, along with the tire iron in case she needed a weapon, and the flashlight.

Slamming the trunk shut, she sucked down a few calming breaths, then started back down the road to the accident scene, where the SUV had come to rest on its roof.

The terrain was sand, dirt, and sagebrush that snagged on the legs of her jeans as she walked. The only illumination came from the cars, the starlight, and the moonlight.

From a hundred feet away, she could see the upturned Escalade’s wheels still spinning. At fifty feet it became evident that the front window had blown out. At twenty-five feet she made out a dark shape on the roadway.

She swung the Maglite in a wide arc. Bert lay facedown, his body bent in an angle that it hadn’t been designed to accommodate. He wasn’t moving.

Shivering and numb, not just from the low temperature, Claudia lit a flare and laid it on the road. She approached the Escalade with caution and pointed the flashlight at the passenger window. Lainie’s head lolled upside down against it, the blood blending with her red hair. Her eyes were open, as unseeing as Paige’s had been when Claudia found her.

From the distance, headlights appeared. The hulking form of a big rig lumbered along the highway. Claudia stood in the road and waved her arms, yelling for the trucker to stop, until she realized it had to be Roberta, the lady Judas. She dropped her arms and stepped back onto the dirt.

The truck slowed as it neared the smashed-up SUV, and Roberta leaned out of the window to get a look. After she’d rubbernecked long enough to satisfy her curiosity, the truck picked up speed and left the scene.

Chapter 34

The woman from Child Protective Services closed her car door and turned to face Claudia. “Those kids have no idea how lucky they are.”

Claudia looked through the window at the children and smiled at them. They were huddled as close as their seat restraints would allow. They stared back at her with eyes drooping with fatigue.

“I’m sure they’ll feel a lot luckier once they’re home with their families,” she said. “Any idea where they belong?”

The social worker shook her head. “No, but I’m sure we will soon. I’m gonna get them to UMD and have them checked out, get them something to eat and a bed for tonight.” She held out her hand. “You’re a brave gal.”

“Sometimes you don’t get a choice,” Claudia said, returning the handshake. As the social worker drove off toward Las Vegas, she didn’t feel at all brave. For a moment she stood alone at the side of the road, grateful to be alive and physically unscathed, but still rattled from the too-close encounter with death.

A few yards away, the fire services, paramedics, and police vehicles were strobe lit in a string of flashes from the police photographer’s camera. A skinny photographer in a navy Windbreaker with LVPD stenciled across it walked backward with his camera, continuing to fire across the southbound lane where the Escalade had come to rest.

Claudia watched him for a couple of minutes, then started to return to the dark blue Nevada Highway Patrol car where she had left Annabelle wrapped in a blanket, telling her adventures to a good-looking young state trooper.

The photographer shot another blast. In the light, a Jeep could be seen approaching the first of the emergency flares a trooper had added to the ones Claudia had placed on the road. The Jeep pulled over and Jovanic got out. Claudia saw him extend his badge wallet to one of the investigating officers, who gestured in her direction.

As his arms drew her to him all the air seemed to rush out of her.
Had it all really happened in one day?
She sank against him, too overcome to speak.

Jovanic rested his cheek against the top of her head and she felt his breath, warm in her hair. They stood together in silence, clinging to each other. Then he lifted her face and covered it with kisses. Between them was the enormity of knowing that if Bert Falkenberg’s machinations had been successful, this opportunity would have been denied them forever.

His presence infused her with new energy, but Jovanic kept his arm around Claudia as they strolled over to see Annabelle. The young trooper straightened and moved away from the vehicle, giving them some privacy.

“Seems I owe you an apology,” Jovanic said to Annabelle. “I should have listened to Claudia. She’s obviously a better judge of character than I am.”

Annabelle stared up at him, suspicion in her eyes, clearly taken by surprise at his words. She said nothing, but she couldn’t hide the pleased little smile that touched the edges of her lips.

“This is one amazing young woman,” Claudia said. “Annabelle, you can be my backup any day.”

Jovanic nodded approval, then said he needed to talk to the commander. As he walked away, Annabelle looked back at the SUV. “What about
them
?”

“You don’t have to worry about them anymore.”

“Are they dead?”

“Bert’s pretty badly hurt.”

Lainie had been killed on impact, but drunk drivers tend to survive the crashes they cause. The paramedics had talked about Bert having sustained a spinal cord injury, possible brain damage.

A tear slid down Annabelle’s nose and over her upper lip and she swiped it away. “Why do they all have to be so . . . so bad?”

Claudia knew instinctively that she was talking about all the men in her young life who had let her down. Dominic Giordano, Cruz Montenegro, and this most monstrous of all betrayals by a man in whom she had trusted and confided.

Crouching on her heels, Claudia gently touched her cheek. “I know it seems like that right now, but they’re not
all
that way. I promise.”

“Yeah, like I’m s’posed to believe
that.
”

“Give it some time, kiddo. You’ll see.”

Together they watched a couple of EMTs take out a stretcher and wheel it over to where Bert lay. The coroner’s van would come later for Lainie. No hurry for her.

Claudia wanted to tell Annabelle not to watch as they loaded Bert onto the stretcher, but something told her she needed to see it. Maybe some of the bad dreams that were apt to follow this real-life nightmare would be a little less intense if she saw with her own eyes that he was no longer capable of hurting her.

Annabelle gave a little shudder, but not for Bert. “Ugh, I feel so gross. I haven’t had a bath in days. My hair is all greasy.”

Claudia produced a small comb from her jacket pocket. “Here, at least you can comb your hair, if that will make you feel a little better.”

Annabelle took the comb from her and started vigorously tugging at the snarls. Too vigorously. Turning her frustration, anger, fear on herself.

“Hey, don’t attack it. You need to keep some of that hair on your head.”

Annabelle made a scornful sound at Claudia’s lame attempt at humor. She handed back the comb. “What about Cruz?”

The question came out of left field. “What about him?”

“Do you think he’ll blame me about Paige?”

Claudia suddenly realized that Annabelle was unaware of what had happened to the athletic director the night before. According to Jovanic, Bert’s tale of Cruz’ arrest was only part of the story.

The police had arrived at the guest cottage with an arrest warrant to discover Cruz bloodied and beaten. He refused to name his assailants and was currently hospitalized in the jail ward. Now that the truth had come out about Bert, he would be released.

Claudia looked at Annabelle and decided that the girl had been through enough. She did not need to hear the whole truth about what her father had undoubtedly ordered done, and for no good reason.

“What happened to Paige had
nothing
to do with you. Cruz will understand that. He really cares about you, Annabelle. I think you’re probably one of his favorite students.”

“I don’t wanna go home, Claudia. I don’t want to see Dominic.”

“Sweetie, he’s your father . . .”

“Don’t make me go back there; I’ll run away again. Can’t I stay with you?”

“Joel is talking to the officer in charge right now, to see if we can at least take you home.” She glanced up as Jovanic approached, looking unhappy.

“We can’t take her without a court order,” he said, after pulling Claudia aside. “I thought maybe I could get around it, but Lieutenant Estevez isn’t going for it. She’s responsible for what happens to her. If it were L.A., we wouldn’t do it, either.”

“But Dominic
asked
me to be involved.”

“Claudia, honey, arguing with me doesn’t do any good. Talk to the lieutenant. She’ll tell you the same as she told me.”

“So what happens next?”

“They’ll take her to the hospital to be checked out; then, if she can be released, juvenile hall until Giordano picks her up. We won’t be allowed any contact once she leaves for the hospital. It’s the HIPPA law. It’s supposed to protect a patient’s privacy.”

A knot of anger started in her stomach and made its way up to the throbbing contusion at the back of Claudia’s head. “That’s fucked up,” she said.

Jovanic smiled. “Now you sound like Annabelle.”

Claudia shot him a
that’s not funny
look. The girl’s emotional state was fragile at best. The thought of having to leave her with strangers, even the “good guys,” worried her. The last time she’d spent time in juvenile hall she had attempted suicide.

Leaving Jovanic at the Jeep, Claudia went back to the patrol car where Annabelle waited. The distress on her face made Claudia feel as if she were about to personally perpetrate yet another betrayal on the girl.

Annabelle began shaking her head from side to side in protest. “No! No! No!” She jumped out of the patrol car, throwing off the blanket and pushing past Claudia. “I’m not going with them,” she shouted, drawing the attention of the emergency personnel who were trying to extract Lainie’s body from the SUV, and the troopers who were taking measurements and sketching the scene.

Claudia caught her arm as she started to storm off. “We’re in the middle of the desert, Annabelle. There’s no place to go.”

“Fuck that! If you won’t help me, I’ll—”

“Do we have a problem here?”

The two stripes on her sleeve said she was a lieutenant. Her badge identified her as Angela Estevez. She had a pretty face and a trim body, but thirty pounds of utility belt around her waist added some bulk. Annabelle glared at her, chin jutting defiantly, but she kept her mouth shut.

“Get back in the car, please,” the lieutenant said. “It’s time to go.”

Annabelle stared around wildly, like a panicked animal caught in a trap, knowing there was nowhere to go, but still looking for a means of escape.

“Get in the car, Annabelle,” Estevez repeated, firm not unkind.

BOOK: Written In Blood

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