Page 21 of Enigma
The roar of an engine suddenly filled the air, growing louder by the second.
Olive looked up in time to see a dark sedan racing across the parking lot. Its headlights cut through the evening shadows like twin spotlights.
Worse yet, the car wasn’t slowing down—and it was headed straight toward them.
CHAPTER 12
Jason’s reflexes seemed to kick in faster than conscious thought.
Olive saw the sedan accelerating toward them. She heard the engine’s roar growing louder by the second. And she knew they had maybe two heartbeats before impact.
“Down!” Jason shouted, grabbing Olive around the waist.
Time seemed to slow as he threw his weight sideways, pulling Olive with him.
She felt her feet leave the ground just as the sedan’s bumper swept through the space where they’d been standing. The car’s momentum carried it past them with a thunderous rush of wind and engine noise.
They hit the concrete hard. Jason’s shoulder took the brunt of the impact as he twisted to cushion Olive’s fall.
The rough pavement scraped against her palms and tore through her jeans at the knees. Sharp pieces of gravel pressed into her cheek as Jason’s body covered hers protectively.
The sedan’s tires shrieked against the asphalt as the driver fought to maintain control, the smell of burning rubber thick in the air. Olive could taste exhaust fumes and feel the lingering heat from the engine that had passed so close to them. Her hearthammered against her ribs as the reality of how close they’d come to being killed sank in.
For several seconds, neither of them moved. Jason’s breathing sounded ragged against her ear, his weight solid and reassuring as they both processed what had just happened. Olive felt his pulse racing where his wrist pressed against her arm.
“Are you okay?” Jason’s voice was tight with adrenaline as he lifted his head to look at her.
Olive tested her limbs, wincing at the sting of scraped skin. “I think so. You?”
Jason pushed himself up and scanned the parking lot for any sign the sedan was returning for another pass. “Nothing broken.”
They helped each other to their feet, both moving slowly as the shock of the near-miss settled over them.
Olive brushed gravel from her palms, watching droplets of blood well up from the scrapes. Jason’s shirt was torn at the shoulder, and she saw the beginning of what would be a spectacular bruise forming along his arm.
“That wasn’t an accident.” Olive’s voice sounded steadier than she felt.
Jason nodded grimly, his eyes still tracking the empty space where the sedan had disappeared. “No, it wasn’t.”
“Should we call this in? Report it to hospital security or the police?”
“No.” Jason dusted off his clothes. “Someone must be trying to send a message—a message that we’re in danger.” Jason’s voice had lost all traces of the anger that had colored their earlier confrontation, replaced now by the sharp edge of protective concern.
Olive’s eyes swept across the hospital parking lot with new intensity. The fluorescent lights that had seemed merely brightbefore now created harsh pools of illumination separated by deep pockets of shadow where anyone could be hiding.
A sedan parked three spaces away—had it been there when they’d arrived?
The maintenance van near the emergency entrance—was that a figure in the driver’s seat or just the shadow of a headrest?
Even the landscaping took on a sinister quality, the carefully trimmed bushes and ornamental palms now looking like perfect cover for someone with a camera or worse.
Her skin prickled again with the sensation of being watched, and she found herself searching for escape routes—the sidewalk back to the hospital entrance, the gap between cars that led to the adjacent medical building, the service road that curved around behind the complex. Every instinct honed by years of investigative work screamed that they were too exposed, too vulnerable, standing in the open like targets under those unforgiving lights.
“Yes.” Her voice barely carried over the distant hum of traffic and the mechanical whir of air conditioning units. “We’re in danger. And I have a feeling this is all just beginning.”
Fifteen minutes later, Olive and Jason sat across from each other in a vinyl booth at Mel’s Place, a classic Florida diner that looked like it hadn’t been updated since the 1980s. The scent of grease was strong, the lighting was soft, and the dinner crowd had thinned out enough that they could speak privately.
They’d ordered when they arrived—Jason a bacon cheeseburger with fries and Olive a grilled chicken sandwich with a side salad.
