Read Online Strum Again? Book Three of the Songkiller Saga by Elizabeth Ann Scarborough - Free Book Online

ticket. The blue truck sped up too, of course, and pulled
alongside, just like in the movies, and side-swiped her. Her
brand-new van.
    "Bastard!" she shouted, and waved her fist
at him, but all she could see were his headlights as he fell back,
sprang forward, and crashed into her again. Well, at least this was
Texas instead of California. Not much chance he was going to send
her flying over a steep mountain pass in the middle of the desert.
She just kept driving, even though according to the fuel indicator
she had to be running on fumes.
    And then, as he pulled up to ram her again,
the van sputtered, bucked, and died. The truck made an impact and
Gussie locked the driver's side door, and as she leaned over to
lock the passenger's door, she saw headlights coming from a side
road and changed her mind and slid over to the passenger's side,
banged open the door, and jumped out, running for the lights.
    Now why was the goddamn thing backing up?
Gussie wondered, as she ran for the lights. When she tripped, she
realized that she was not on a side road at all, but out in the
open. The door of the blue truck was open, light spilling from it
glinting off a blade in the hand of a smooth-faced man in a tractor
cap. She caught only a glimpse. He hadn't realized yet that she was
out of the truck, but it wouldn't take another second. She felt
that if she could just get to those lights, even if they weren't
car lights, surely there'd be other people, surely she could get
help.
    She didn't look back, and the roar of her
own breath in her ears and the thud of her feet, the thump of her
heart, let her hear little else for what seemed like hours. And
then she heard an engine start and distinctly heard wheels behind
her.
    Go to ground. She had to go to ground. Run.
Hide. Hunker down and blend in with the darkness. She veered left,
so that she wasn't running in a straight path, and from the corner
of her eye saw the truck's high beams splitting the dry desert
ground and scrub brush. The truck had left the road and was bumping
across the uneven ground, lights bouncing up to pierce the indigo
sky, then dropping back onto cracked and open ground.
    Gussie's legs were lead, her heart an anchor
in her chest when she needed to be light enough to just blow away.
Oh, lord, why had she gotten out of the van? She could have held
him off awhile at least.
    She saw a bush right in front of her and
thought she'd drop down behind it, so maybe if the pickup's
headlamps didn't shine directly on her he wouldn't find her. The
space was vast. On the other hand, nobody else was around except
whoever was behind those green lights—please God don't let them
belong to some lonely aircraft beacon or radio tower—and the night
was long. She could hide for a little while, but sooner or later
she'd have to run again.
    The brush was full of thorns and stickers,
naturally, and tore at her face and arms as she bent down.
Fortunately, she hadn't yet had time to change out of her sweats
and running shoes into more comfortable shorts and sandals, but she
was sweating gallons and was sure her pursuer could hear her breath
over the engine of his truck.
    There it was, a dark blue truck driving
through a field on a dark blue night, headlights bobbing up and
down, "Don't mind me, I'm just some kids out spoonin'. Don't mind
me I'm just some drunk good old boys out tastin' a little freedom,
drinkin' a little beer, raisin' a little innocent cain." Like
hell.
    She closed her eyes and clenched her fists.
Childlike: "you can't see me. I'm not here." Why couldn't she have
brought the basket bag with her cuticle scissors or Swiss army
knife or even just the heavy bag itself to use for a shield, to hit
him with?
    She'd forgotten the money. A big wad
of it was in her bra, more in the basket bag, more under the
floorboards. At least I got a little mad money this time, Mama, she
thought to herself and felt like giggling. Clean underwear probably
wouldn't matter a hell of a lot if he caught her