Chapter 8 - The Chase on the Coastal Road
The coastal road was a terrifying mirror of black ice. High cliffs bounded the right side of the narrow highway, while a sudden, sheer drop off down to the churning, jagged rocks of Long Island Sound lined the left.
The ice storm was at its absolute peak. Visibility was reduced to less than twenty feet, the heavy snow and freezing rain swirling wildly in the yellow beam of our headlights.
The heavy truck swayed violently as we rounded a sharp curve, the tires briefly losing traction on a thick patch of black ice before the heavy four-wheel-drive treads bit back into the pavement, pulling us straight.
Mia was huddled low on the floorboards beneath the dashboard, holding her stuffed dog tightly, her eyes wide as she looked up at me.
“You’re doing great, sweetie!” I shouted over the roar of the heater and the storm. “We’re almost out!”
Suddenly, twin beams of piercing white halogen light appeared in my rearview mirror.
A heavy black SUV—the same black sedan from Bryant Park, now replaced by an armored off-road vehicle—was closing in on us rapidly. It was traveling at a dangerous speed, its heavy tires throw up sheets of slush and ice as it gained on our rear bumper.
Through the blinding glare of their high beams, I could see the driver. It was one of Victoria’s senior security contractors, his face set in a cold, ruthless grimace. Sitting in the passenger seat beside him, illuminated by the dashboard light, was Victoria herself.
She had come to ensure the job was finished personally.
CRASH!
The heavy front bull-bar of the armored SUV slammed into our rear bumper, sending a violent shockwave through the frame of the truck. Mia shrieked, clutching my leg.
“Hold on!” I cried, fighting the steering wheel as the heavy truck fishtailed dangerously toward the edge of the cliff.
The SUV pulled up alongside us on the narrow two-lane road, trying to force us off the pavement into the rocky abyss overlooking the ocean. The side of the SUV ground against our driver’s door with a deafening screech of tearing metal and flying sparks.
Victoria rolled down her double-paned window slightly, raising a small electronic device.
She wasn't trying to shoot us. She was holding a remote control unit—the master override for the estate’s private security network, which held the recorded feeds of Mia identifying her in the study.
“Give me the flash drive!” Victoria shouted over the roar of the wind, her voice amplified by a megaphone. “Throw it out the window and I’ll let you live!”
I looked down at the small black flash drive sitting in the cup holder beside me—the evidence that contained Victoria’s financial fraud and poisoning timeline.
I looked at Victoria’s cold, arrogant face through the glass.
May you like
“Never!” I screamed back.
I slammed on the heavy brakes.
