Silent Run

Prologue

    Large raindrops streamed against her windshield as she sped along the dark, narrow highway north of Los Angeles. She’d been traveling for over an hour along the wild and beautiful Pacific coastline. She’d passed the busy beach cities of Venice and Santa Monica, the celebrity-studded hills of Malibu and Santa Barbara. Thank God it was a big state. She could start over again, find a safe place to stay, but she had to get there first.
    The pair of headlights in her rearview mirror drew closer with each passing mile. Her nerves began to tighten, and goose bumps rose along her arms and the back of her neck. She’d been running too long not to recognize danger. But where had the car come from? She’d been so sure that no one had followed her out of LA. After sixty miles of constantly checking her rearview mirror she’d begun to relax, but now the fear came rushing back.
    It was too dark to see the car behind her, but there was something about the speed with which it was approaching that made her nervous. She pressed her foot down harder on the gas, clinging to the wheel as gale-force winds blowing in off the ocean rocketed through the car, making the driving even more treacherous.
    A few miles later the road veered inland. She looked for a place to exit. Finally she saw a sign for an upcoming turnoff heading into the Santa Ynez Mountains. Maybe with a few twists and turns she could lose the car on her tail, and if her imagination were simply playing tricks on her, the car behind her would just continue down the road.
    The exit came up fast. She took the turn on two wheels. Five minutes later the pair of headlights was once again directly behind her. There was no mistake: He was coming after her.
    She had to get away from him. Adrenaline raced through her bloodstream, giving her courage and strength. She was so tired of running for her life, but she couldn’t quit now. She’d probably made a huge mistake leaving the main highway. There was no traffic on this two-lane road. If he caught her now there would be no one to come to her rescue.
    The gap between their cars lessened. He was so close she could see the silhouette of a man in her rearview mirror. He was bearing down on her.
    She took the next turn too sharply, her tires sliding on the slick, wet pavement.
    Sudden lights coming from the opposite direction blinded her. She hit the brakes hard. The car skidded out of control. She flew across the road, crashed through a wooden barrier, and hurtled down a steep embankment. Rocks splintered the windshield as she threw up her hands in protest and prayer.
    When the impact finally came it was crushing, the pain intense. It was too much. All she wanted to do was to sink into oblivion. It was over. She was finished.
    But some voice deep inside her screamed at her to stay awake, because if she wasn’t dead yet, she soon would be.

Chapter One

    The blackness in her mind began to lessen. There was a light behind her eyelids that beckoned and called to her. She was afraid to answer that call, terrified to open her eyes. Maybe it was the white light people talked about, the one to follow when you were dead. But she wasn’t dead, was she?
    It was just a nightmare, she told herself. She was dreaming; she’d wake up in a minute. But something was wrong. Her bed didn’t feel right. The mattress was hard beneath her back. There were odd bells going off in her head. She smelled antiseptic and chlorine bleach. A siren wailed in the distance. Someone was talking to her, a man.
    Her stomach clenched with inexplicable fear as she felt a strong hand on her shoulder. Her eyes flew open, and she blinked rapidly, the scene before her confusing.
    She wasn’t home in her bedroom, as she’d expected. A man in a long white coat stood next to the bed. He appeared to be in his fifties, with salt-and-pepper hair, dark eyes, and a serious expression. He held a clipboard in one hand. A stethoscope hung around his neck, and a pair of glasses rested on his long, narrow nose. Next to him stood a short, plump brunette dressed in blue scrubs, offering a compassionate, encouraging smile that seemed to match the name on her name tag, Rosie.
    What was going on? Where was she?
    â€œYou’re awake,” the doctor said, a brisk note in his voice, a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. “That’s good. We were getting concerned about you. You’ve been unconscious for hours."
    Unconscious