Her fingers tightened around the steering wheel as she drove. It took every bit of mental effort to concentrate on driving.
Once she merged onto the freeway, her eyelids began to feel heavy. She’d never felt so tired in all her life. It was as if her body were melting into the seat. The glare from the headlights blurred her vision. She blinked, a long blink, letting her eyes rest for just a second. When she opened them, twin bright lights were headed right for her.
Before she could swerve out of the way, the force of impact jolted her body and created a cacophony of sounds, starting with the swooshing of the airbag before it slammed into her face, jerking her head back and leaving her ears ringing. Glass exploded, and everything felt as if it were moving in slow motion as debris flew around her.
Suddenly, she was rolling, rolling, skidding to a stop. Am I inside the car or outside? What happened to the airbag?
Gritty, sharp-edged pavement bit into her flesh. She opened one eye, saw a blur of mangled metal and rubber. Two cars. One upside down. The other turned at an angle. Which car was hers?
Blood oozed down her face, dripping into her eye as the acrid smell of smoke thickened, threatening to fill her lungs. Only then did she feel pain. Pain so excruciating, it grabbed her by the throat and dragged her screaming into the dark.
CHAPTER ONE
Nora Ruth Harmon awoke with a start. Using her elbows to prop herself upward, she listened carefully. She’d thought she heard a noise, but now all was quiet. The neon numbers on her bedside table glowed in the dark. It was 2:00 a.m. She turned her head. David was sleeping soundly. When her eyes drifted shut again, she heard it again—a loud moan coming from her son’s room.
Trevor was having another nightmare.
She pushed the covers aside, slid her feet into her slippers on the floor, grabbed her robe from the chair nearby, and walked quietly past Hailey’s room.
The door to Trevor’s bedroom was open, which wasn’t unusual considering his fear of the dark, a fear he’d been unable to overcome. She pulled her robe tightly around her waist as she entered his room and then stood there watching him. Her son would be turning thirteen tomorrow, and despite her opinion that he was an old soul, mature beyond his age, he now had a new fear—the fear of water.
The thought broke her heart. Mostly because Trevor had always loved the water. When he was small, they used to call him Little Duck. But everything had changed after their trip to Maui one month ago. Every year David and Nora, along with their two children, Trevor and Hailey, flew from Sacramento to Maui for a week of fun in the sun at their favorite resort. They had shared so many wonderful experiences over the years . . . until their most recent trip. Trevor and his dad had gone to the pool early to grab towels and save lounge chairs. But Trevor had been impatient and took a ride on the pool slide. A decision he regretted when an older boy—a bully, according to Trevor—pushed him down the slide. Instead of waiting the allotted time necessary for Trevor to get out of the way, the big kid came down the slide, too, and landed on Trevor. Not only did the other kid fracture Trevor’s shoulder, but he kept pulling him underwater, keeping him from getting air. Trevor nearly drowned and spent two days in the hospital. The other boy was fine. He told the woman who had pulled Trevor from the water and gave him CPR until an EMT arrived that they had both slipped at the top of the slide.
Trevor groaned, his face twisting in agony. Nora went to him and rested a hand on his good arm. “Trevor. Wake up. You’re having a nightmare.”
The doctor said his fracture would take four to six weeks to heal. But it wasn’t the physical damage that was bothering her son; the PTSD was the problem, a psychiatric disorder that sometimes occurred in people like Trevor who had experienced a traumatic event. Trevor had been seeing a therapist for a few weeks now. She told Nora that although no two children who develop PTSD after a near-drowning accident were alike, there were common symptoms: reliving the experience through nightmares and flashbacks, withdrawal from friends and family, and extreme reactions to touching or loud noises. The belief was the aftereffects would disappear within a month or two.
Nora hoped that was true. After spending two full days in the hospital and thirty days with doctors and in therapy, her son’s pained face still gave Nora a lump in her throat. She was thankful he was alive.
She sat on the edge of his bed and brushed the hair back from his forehead. “Trevor,” she said again. “Wake up.”
He stirred. His eyes opened. “Mom?”
“Yes. It’s me. Mom. You were crying out for help. Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he said, his voice shaky. “What time is it?”
“Two in the morning.”
“Sorry I woke you.”
“Don’t be sorry,” she said. “I’m here for you. Do you need anything?”
“No thanks.”
“Okay. I’m going back to bed, then.” She stood, then watched him pull the covers high above his neck and turn his head the other way.
“I love you,” she said.
“Love you,” came his muffled voice as she walked out of his room.
Nora made her way downstairs to the kitchen, where she filled a glass with water. She grabbed a seat on a stool at the island and took a gulp. Her heart was racing. Trevor wasn’t the only one in their family experiencing anxiety. The headaches and light-headedness weren’t the only symptoms she’d been experiencing since returning from Hawaii. She’d been feeling paranoid. Her therapist, Jennifer Lister, a woman Nora had been visiting on and off since she was a teenager, explained that the anxiety she’d been facing after her son’s traumatic event most likely made her more vulnerable to paranoid thoughts. Which would explain why Nora was sure she was being followed. When her family was checking in at the resort in Hawaii, she had noticed a man in the lobby wearing a suit. She wouldn’t have noticed him at all if it hadn’t been such a warm, humid afternoon. He’d used a handkerchief to wipe the gleam of sweat from his forehead, and when he looked up, his icy-blue gaze locked on hers. Although he had blondish hair and a boyish face, she guessed him to be hovering around fifty because of the crow’s-feet and faint horizontal frown lines.
She’d forgotten all about the man until she saw him again at the Sacramento airport. Trying to see her luggage on the baggage carousel, she spotted him through a crowd of people. Once again, their eyes met. This time, she left David with the kids and headed his way. Who is he? Does he know me? Those were the questions running through her head. She knew it could just be a weird coincidence that she’d seen him in Hawaii and now in Sacramento, but she wanted to know for sure. By the time she got to the spot where he’d been standing, he was gone. She had walked around the carousel twice before giving up.
Nora took another drink of water.
She hadn’t mentioned the man to anyone. She might even have forgotten about him. But a week after they returned from their trip, she saw him again. This time, that same man had been sitting behind the wheel of a dark sedan—same dirty-blond hair, same boyish face, but with a tan. He appeared to be studying something, perhaps reading, when she drove by. She’d been wearing sunglasses and had been driving David’s car while her SUV was in the shop. This was the first time she’d seen the man without him seeing her. Or at least he didn’t look her way. She slowed as she passed, trying to get a good look at his car and license plate, but the car parked behind him made it impossible to see much. Up ahead, she pulled to the side of the road and shut off the engine. She got out of the car, grabbed her pepper spray from her purse, and made her way to the other side of the street, where he was parked. She kept to the sidewalk. Her heart beat wildly as she drew closer. With only two cars parked between the man and Nora and the tiny canister of pepper spray in her grasp ready to go, the sedan pulled away from the curb and took off. All she got for her efforts was a 6 and a B on the license plate.