The lines had been cut.
In the rearview mirror, Ryan’s Jaguar followed exactly behind me.
He was watching me die.
Panic rose, but the memory of Ava and Jack’s coffins steadied me. I grabbed my phone. I didn’t call 911. Ryan had too many friends there.
I called Detective Miller, one of the few honest officers I knew.
“Miller,” he answered.
“It’s Emma Hayes,” I shouted over the engine. “Don’t talk. Merge this call into your department radio channel and trace my GPS. Now.”
Then I added Ryan to the call.
He answered immediately.
“Having trouble steering, darling?”
“Ryan, please!” I screamed. “The brakes are gone! Help me!”
“Close your eyes,” he said softly. “Soon you’ll be with Ava and Jack. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“Why are you doing this?” I cried, downshifting hard as the engine screamed. “You already took my babies! You paid Travis to ruin Sophie’s tires! You killed your own children for insurance money!”
