Midnight Jewels

the Toyota to a more reasonable speed. She whipped it around another curve. Tires squealed in protest as they clung gamely to the road surface. Croft winced.
    "You know, you're developing a streak of melodrama as wide as mine." Croft turned in the seat and glanced back through the rear window. "It's got to be Dallas or Lance—or both. I don't mink you're going to be able to outrun them."
    "Thanks for the vote of confidence." Mercy's foot eased back down on the gas pedal. The next curve came up much too fast in her headlights.
    "Forget the Grand Prix act. I said you aren't going to be able to outrun them. Whoever's driving knows this road a hell of a lot better than you do. That gives him a distinct advantage."
    "Look, if you can't offer any really helpful suggestions, maybe you'd better just keep quiet and let me drive." Mercy's mouth was dry.
    "You're getting tense," he observed.
    "What a brilliant observation. We're a real pair, aren't we? You're falling asleep as the bad guys close in, I'm totally traumatized, and we're both shaking like Aspen leaves in the wind."
    "Drifter's Creek," Croft said succinctly.
    "What?"
    "Just get us to that little ghost town we came through on the way up here. Drifter's Creek."
    "What are we going to do there? Panic?"
    "Only if all else fails. Just get us there, honey. I think we've got a little time. Whoever's coming after us doesn't seem to be in a hurry yet. Probably just wants to keep us in sight until we're closer to the main road."
    "Why?"
    "The accident will look more accidental if it happens on the main road."
    "
Accident
? Oh, God, Croft, do you really think—"
    "They wanted an accidental drowning, at least in my case. But barring that, this plan probably struck them as equally useful. And it would definitely be better if it happened on the main road. That way there won't be anything to connect us with Gladstone. If it happens on this road, someone might wonder how we happened to be on it at this hour of the night. Not that the inquiry would go much farther than that. If worse came to worse, Gladstone would probably just tell the truth. We were a couple of houseguests who had a few drinks, left the party early and went over the edge of a convenient cliff."
    "I wish you'd stop using the past tense." Mercy came around a bend and found herself on a short, straight stretch of road. She increased her speed as much as she dared. The Toyota seemed to be hitting every pothole and rut in sight.
    "The trick to this kind of driving," Croft said patiently, "is to brake going into the curve and accelerate coming out of it."
    "Croft, this is not a good time to give me lessons in anything, especially driving." She rounded another bend and saw the first tumbledown buildings of Drifter's Creek looming up in the glow of the car's headlights.
    "Kill the lights," Croft said quietly.
    "Are you kidding?" She was startled. "I won't be able to see a thing."
    "Then stop the car and let me take it from here."
    "But Croft, you're in no condition to drive, you said so yourself. If you think I'm going to let you drive us out of these mountains without the lights you must have taken one too many karate chops on the head."
    He didn't respond, but his bare foot was suddenly on her side of the car. He used it to yank her foot off the gas pedal as he reached over and flicked off the lights. The next instant he was slamming on the brakes. "Get out. Now." He was already crowding her out of the car as he moved over into her seat.
    "Damn it, Croft." But she stopped arguing. Shoving open the car door, Mercy scrambled out into the chilled night air and dashed around to the passenger side. Croft had the car in motion before she had even closed the door. "What are you going to do?"
    "Hide the car over there in the trees."
    Mercy glanced in the indicated direction. All she could see was a mass of dark limbs and branches. "There's no room for the car in among those trees."
    "There's room." He steered the car carefully off the road. The wheels dipped into a ditch and then the Toyota pulled itself up on the far side.
    "I assume you have better than average night vision?" Mercy didn't bother to hide the sarcasm.
    "Better than average," he agreed.
    She glanced at him quickly but could barely make out his profile. He was concentrating on his driving, easing the vehicle over the rough terrain.
    The trees loomed closer, a dense, solid looking cluster of shadows. Then the car was nosing its way into the duck darkness. There