Page 18 of The Two Last Moments

Once I’m steady, I take a few steps away from Danny. Studying the scene. I imagine a girl who looks like me on the ground. Danny carries her to safety. She would’ve gazed up into his eyes, though it was a little too dark to see the richness of their color. I can remember staring into those eyes, but I’m also detached from it. Like that girl wasn’t really me.

Aside from the headlights of the car getting larger as it accelerated, I can’t picture anything else. Nothing except Danny. His face as he looked down at me, moonlight and streetlights picking up the blonder strands in his hair. I remember that much. I was here that night, and though it’s awful, I cling to that knowledge. It makes me feel real.

“You said it was ahe. Did you see him?”

“Not in any detail,” Danny says. “The person had broad shoulders, so I assumed he was a man. But I can’t say for sure.”

I swallow around the thickness in my throat. “So that’s why you didn’t want to tell me. The guy did it on purpose. Why? Was it random? Or was he there forme? Will he try again?”

“We’ll make sure he can’t get to you. I’ve got a lot of friends, remember? We’re going to help you.”

I believe he means that. Danny’s done nothing but help me since the moment he saw me in the street that night. But I can’t expect this man I’ve just met to take care of me. Where will I stay? How will I find the loved ones who are—I hope—out there looking for me, while avoiding that psychopath who wants to hurt me?

But for all those questions, there’s another one that keeps returning to my thoughts. What wasIdoing here that night? I must have come here for a reason.

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of my neck raise. My skin prickles, and my heart takes off at a sprint like I’m already running.

Someone’s watching me.

I spin around in place, scanning the dark recesses of the street and the windows of the houses, which show only reflections. It’s daylight, but there are still shadowed spaces that the sun doesn’t touch. Behind bushes and under cars.

He could be anywhere.

“What’s wrong? What is it?” Danny closes the distance between us, his face drawn with concern.

“There’s someone else here. Someone watching. It’s…” It’s a feeling of déjà vu. An instinct telling medanger. It doesn’t subside until Danny pulls me close to him, swiveling his head as he looks around for the source of my anxiety.

My protector. My only friend in the whole world. I’m safe in his arms.

But for how long?

8

Despite my fear, I’m not ready to leave the scene of the accident yet. So Danny locks me in the car and stalks around like he’s my own personal sentinel, checking the perimeter.

I gasp when there’s movement, but it’s only a cat darting out from beneath a Lexus in a driveway.

Slowly, the freaked-out feeling subsides, and my heart rate calms. Nobody else jumps out. No threats. No bad guys.

I must’ve been remembering something about the accident. That has to explain that sense of déjà vu, but there’s clearly nothing out there. Just a quiet street. The man who ran his car into me is long gone by now.

He must be. The guy would be an idiot to stick around the scene of the crime, right?

I relax against the seat, admiring the interior of Danny’s car. The soft leather, the cool retro gauges in the dashboard. And the chrome. Thechrome. What if this is my career? Selling fancy cars? Or maybe I’m a mechanic.

I gaze at my hands, noticing the calluses and old scars.

But trying to guess things about my life is just going to lead to disappointment. It’s another one of those instincts I keep getting. Disappointment feels like a well-worn path in my brain. I’m probably a light bulb saleswoman or something random and unsexy like that. If I even have a job.

Danny knocks on the car window, and I get out.

“It’s all clear out here,” he says.

“Guess I was imagining it. Sorry.”

“I’d rather be safe than do nothing. How’re you doing?”

“You’re always asking me that.”

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