Beholden Read Free

wasn’t Central? But would they even believe her if
     she accused a sergeant from Central Precinct of being involved in a brutal killing?
    Up ahead, she saw the signs indicating the approach to Papago Park and a maze of roads that led to the Phoenix Zoo. The area
     was well lighted and usually filled with people, residents and winter tourists. Without signaling, she bided her time, then
     quickly turned left. Holding her breath, she watched the rearview mirror. The gray sedan followed, about three car lengths
     behind.
    Her Volkswagen couldn’t outrun the more powerful sedan, Terry thought. She’d have to outwit them. She knew this park well,
     having picnicked here often with her family over the years. Squaring her shoulders, she stepped down on the gas and swerved
     to the right.
    For long, frightening minutes, she zigzagged around the winding roads, the sedan following like a patient predator wearing
     down its prey. Finally, luck smiled on her as a bus-load of tourists returning from a day’s sight-seeing moved to their respective
     cars in the zoo parking lot. Terry managed to maneuver her VW between a truckload of teenagers and a family of six in a station
     wagon.
    Eyes shifting every which way, she spotted the graysedan stuck behind an older couple in a staid Lincoln ambling along. Adrenaline pumping, she stayed with the cars, noticing
     the sedan falling farther behind. Finally, she saw her chance at Hayden Road, hung a quick left, and pressed the pedal to
     the floor. She was in Scottsdale now, another police district, and if she got picked up for speeding, so much the better.
    No cops in sight when you need them, she thought as she switched lanes and whipped through an amber. She was nearly to Chapparal
     now and couldn’t see anything resembling a gray sedan behind her. If she could make it to her apartment, she would have a
     fighting chance. She felt so vulnerable in her car. Even if, as cops, they learned her identity from her license plate number
     and therefore her address, surely Mac and his companions wouldn’t storm her apartment. She’d feel better there. She could
     call 911, her father, someone.
    She drove as if her life depended on it, and it very probably did. At the same time, her mind raced like a runaway train.
     Had they spotted her in the garage, after all? If so, why had they waited till she’d left to go after her? Had Mac recognized
     her car? The VW was new. Maybe not. If Mac had been a party to killing Don, would he stand by and watch the gunman shoot her
     as well?
    Too horrible to contemplate, Terry decided as she swung into her parking space. Cautiously, she looked around and saw no cars
     that didn’t belong there. She also noticed that Lynn’s space was vacant, meaning her roommate wasn’t home yet. Damn.
    Gathering her things, Terry hurried up the stairs and made it inside the apartment. Quickly, she closed the drapes over the
     picture window, then collapsed on the couch and lit another cigarette. She had to do something, had to. But what?
    She reached for the phone and dialed her parents’ number. The answering machine came on. Great. Now her motherwas gone, too. She hung up without leaving a message, not wanting to alarm whoever arrived home first. She’d call when she
     got some place safe. Feeling desperate, she searched her memory and finally recalled the name of the bowling alley her father
     frequented. She looked up the number and dialed, only to be told he’d left ten minutes ago. Frustrated, she slammed down the
     receiver. Be calm, she told herself.
    She needed to think, to get away. Mac knew where she lived. He might lead them here. Where could she go where he wouldn’t
     follow? The idea came to her, a place away from people where she could lock herself in and decide what to do.
    But where was Lynn? Terry rubbed her forehead where a headache was pounding. The cigarette wasn’t helping and she snubbed
     it out. At her mother’s, most likely. She dialed Aunt