Born To Die (Alvarez & Pescoli)

Maybe it wasn’t her father who had other children; maybe it was Maribelle herself. But was that even possible?

The headlights were blinding, the guy behind her having his beams on high, the light refracting crazily as it caught in all the falling snow and mirrors.

Her mother’s reticence with the truth wasn’t going to stop her. As a doctor, Kacey had access to information and medical records that might help her get to the truth, and if she couldn’t dig it up herself, then she also had a patient who, while under anesthesia, once had claimed to have hacked into all kinds of government files. She decided that if she couldn’t get the information she wanted on her own, there was no reason not to see if Tydeus Chilcoate was the real deal, or if he was only a computer hacker demigod in his own mind due to the effects of local anesthesia. She was willing to take the chance and enlist him if need be because her mother’s reticence had really ticked her off.

What was it Maribelle had said? Oh, right, she’d suggested that Kacey’s questions were an “inquisition.” Yeah, right. Throw on the guilt, avoid the real issue. Deflect, deflect, deflect.

Irritated, she saw the bastard in the vehicle behind her pull into the oncoming lane and gun it. Engine roaring, tires spitting up snow, his light-colored van pulled up alongside hers.

Was he out of his friggin’ mind?

She slowed to let him pass. “Idiot!” she muttered and glanced over. Two people were in the front, a man and a woman, she thought. The woman, in the passenger seat, was smoking a cigarette. She looked over at Kacey and said something to the driver.

Suddenly, the guy lost control.

The van swerved into her lane.

“Damn!” Kacey stepped on her brakes and veered toward the shoulder, which sloped off to the deep ditch that ran alongside the road.

Her heart clutched.

Her tires skidded.

She gripped the steering wheel hard, her knuckles showing white as she tried to remain calm. “Come on, come on!” she said, nervous sweat dampening her brow. Her car began a slow, steady spin. The other car sped past, throwing up snow.

Drive with the spin. Don’t fight it! She remembered the old axiom her grandfather had pounded into her head from the time she was old enough to get her learner’s permit. But aiming toward the piles of plowed snow that had been swept to the edge of the road seemed wrong.

Don’t panic!

Heart racing, fear spurting through her blood, she tried like hell to steer her careening car back into the lane, but as the Edge righted, her fender sheered through the packed snow, sending a spray of ice into the air.

“Crap!”

She overcorrected, and the car began to twist again, shuddering and sliding into the oncoming lane.

Headlights glared bright.

Oh. God.

A big truck was bearing down on her!

Frantically, she yanked on the wheel.

The car slid sideways, and she worked the brakes again. Desperately she tried to steer out of the truck’s path.

A horn blasted, echoing in the night.

“Oh, Jesus!” Her heart nearly stopped.

The damned brakes locked.

Still the little SUV skidded sideways, the driver’s side exposed to the massive grille of a pickup barreling down on her.

“Son of a bitch!” Frantic, Kacey stepped on the gas while forcing her steering wheel to turn. Her car lurched, tires spinning crazily. “Come on, come on!”

Sweat beaded on her brow.

The truck bore down on her, close enough that she could see the driver’s face. Their eyes locked. For a split second she thought she recognized him, had seen his face somewhere before. Then she braced herself for the impact. The driver turned away and blasted his horn. The truck slid as the driver stood on his brakes.