One Week To Live Read Free Page B

groceries and saw the dead cat she’d scream. The mother reacted like he’d expected her to. She’d dashed into the house to check on the old woman, leaving her daughter unattended long enough for him to snatch her.
    At first she slept with the aid of a sedative. He’d been careful to only give the toddler enough to make her sleepy. He didn’t want to kill her yet. When she woke up and started crying for her mommy, he gave her a little more. Then he taped her mouth shut to keep her quiet.
    He drove through the night, first skirting the Mexican border, and heading through El Centro to Highway 78. As he drove past the Algodones Dunes, the winds picked up sending drifting sand across the roadway at times obscuring visibility.
    He continued on, ignoring the weather and his increasing fatigue. To his left loomed the faint silhouette of the Chocolate Mountains, a place the military used for target practice. He wouldn’t care if they blew up the whole damn desert.
    Thankfully, the border inspection station at Vidal Junction was closed. Not a soul in sight. Once in Nevada, he relaxed. The long journey was nearly over.
    The wind blew more intensely now. Thunder rumbled overhead and the threatening desert storm unleashed its full fury complete with pelting rain and jagged flashes of lightning that ripped through the cloud-filled night sky.
    He needed to arrive in Las Vegas before the dry desert riverbeds filled with water, empty arroyos turned into raging torrents, and roads flooded. He couldn’t risk a washed-out road delaying him.
    He glanced at the van’s dashboard clock. He was making good time in spite of the weather. In a short while he’d hit his next target, Angela Martin’s doorstep. Wouldn’t she be surprised to learn he knew where she lived?
    ****
    After leaving Susan’s, Brian tried calling Angie several times, but she didn’t answer. Nor did she reply to the phone messages he left.
    “Damn her,” he muttered, shoving clothes into a duffel. She might be angry with him, but she needed to know the kidnapper was on his way to Vegas. Having already talked to his editor about the story, he grabbed his bag and headed out the door. Whether she liked it or not, he’d be on her doorstep by morning. Realizing that over twelve hours had transpired since Polly was taken, he rushed out of the driveway and sped toward the interstate.
    He made good time until he reached the desert east of Los Angeles. The cloud-filled skies opened up. Rain pounded incessantly on his sports car’s canvas top and winds buffeted him. Semi trucks roared past sending up a blinding spray of water. He fought the truck-induced wind wakes that pushed him to the highway’s edge then threatened to suck him into the fast lane. He cursed the weather and the water that dripped through holes in the fabric roof.
    He peered into the darkness, a sheet of driving rain reflecting back at him. Even with the car’s windshield wipers working at full speed, he couldn’t see the road ahead. Pulling off at a roadside rest stop, he hoped the storm might lessen in a few minutes. Desert storms generally came and went quickly. Shutting off the engine, he grabbed his cell phone. The screen glowed green in the darkness. Happy to see a signal, he called Angie. Again, she didn’t answer. Where the hell was she?
    He couldn’t wait out the storm. Ignoring his fatigue and the pouring rain, he turned the ignition key back on. The car cranked over but refused to start.
    “Shit,” he muttered. “Don’t you die on me now!”
    Again, he tried. Again, the old sports car sputtered but wouldn’t start. “You S.O.B. Leave me stranded here and you’re going to the junkyard.”
    Saying a silent prayer, he turned the key again. This time the engine sputtered, cranked over, and started. “Yes,” he muttered. Racing out of the parking lot, he merged onto the freeway behind a truck. His car hydroplaned on the wet pavement forcing him to slow down. Safety warred with his need