Page 99 of Stay With Me

I’ve noticed her looking up at the rearview mirror several times in the last few minutes, her brow furrowing.

“Jesus, dude. I’m going the speed limit. Pass me if you don’t like it,” she mutters.

We drive another mile and the driver behind us is still riding close. Trina’s an excellent driver, thank goodness, because I would totally be stressing. As we approach a turnout, Trina pulls into it so the other driver can pass us.

Except he doesn’t. He swerves into the turnout and stays about twenty feet behind us.

Trina keeps watch in the rearview mirror. “What the hell?” she whispers. “Emily do not look back. Keep looking forward and roll up your window.” We both put our windows up and the click of the doors locking fills the car.

I watch as she reaches down for her phone, keeping it low and out of sight while she presses a few buttons. Halfway through a second ring, Ben’s name pops up on the dashboard display.

“Trina? What’s wrong?” His voice is strained.

“Don’t freak out,” she says in an even tone.

“Telling someone not to freak out means there’s something to freak out about. Tell me. Now.”

“Emily and I are on the way back from Teddy’s cemetery and it’s probably nothing, but a black SUV was tailing us pretty close for miles, even though I was doing the speed limit.”

“What else? I know you and you wouldn’t call for that alone.” A car door slams and an engine roars to life in the background. “I’m on my way. You’re on Route 47, right?”

“Yeah, about three miles outside of where we would turn off to go home. Anyway, so I pulled over at a turnout to let him pass us and he swerved in behind. He’s just sitting there, parked about twenty feet away.” Still watching the rearview mirror, she whispers, “Oh, shit.”

“Oh shit, what? What’s happening?” Ben’s speech is rapid, and his high-pitched voice gives away his panic.

“He’s flashing his lights at us, Ben. What should I do? Stay here? Try to drive away?” Trina’s voice is almost shrill now and I notice her hands shaking on the steering wheel.

I try to make note of any identifying details through the rearview mirror but there isn’t a lot to go on and with no front license plates in Ohio, I can’t get a tag number.

“Okay. Stay calm. According to the location tracker on your phone, I’m about ten minutes out.”

“You put a location tracker on my phone?” Her voice is incredulous.

“Trina, not the time to argue about this. Listen, keep an eye on him, stay in drive, and be prepared to take off if he pulls up closer to you, or if he starts to get out of the car. Got it?”

“Yeah, I got it.”

“Em, are you okay?” Ben asks.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m trying to take notes in my phone on details of the vehicle and the driver in case you need them. It’s definitely a male. It’s hard to tell for sure what color his hair is because he has a green ball cap on, but I think it’s blond. And he’s wearing sunglass?—”

I’m interrupted by the blaring of the car horn behind us.

“Is that him?” Ben asks.

“Yes”—Trina starts but then narrows her eyes. “He’s moving closer. Hold on, Em!”

Trina peels out of the turnout, going as fast as she safely can, and the SUV follows. When we get about a half mile down the road, we’re on a stretch with a few feet of pea gravel on the passenger side, then a guardrail that protects drivers from a steep drop-off.

“Trina? What’s happening?” Ben asks. She doesn’t answer, focusing on the road.

I can’t help but gasp when the SUV speeds up and crosses the middle line to try to force us closer to the guardrail. Trina doesn’t take the bait and stays between the lines of our lane.

“You’re gonna have to mess up your vehicle if you want to push us off the road, pencil dick.”

Apparently, ‘pencil dick’ agrees as he forces the front passenger side of his car into our rear driver’s side and the screeching sound of metal scraping against metal fills the air.

The SUV drops back for a few seconds, and I breathe a sigh of relief when we’ve cleared the area with the guardrail and have the natural rock wall to our right instead. At least he can’t push us off the edge of a small cliff now. Maybe we’ll make it to our turn off before he can do anything else.

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