Page 64 of Beyond Protection

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I nodded. Climbed in. Started the engine.

My phone buzzed before I could shift into reverse.

Mac:You still up?

I put the truck in park. Killed the headlights.

Eamon:About to drive back

Mac:Through the rain? Pull over if it gets bad.

Eamon:Will do

A pause. Long enough to put the truck back into gear. Then:

Mac:Be careful. I'm not losing you to a hydroplaning truck.

I sighed and set the phone down. As the truck began to move, Michael raised one hand. Luna's ears tracked my movement while I backed down the driveway.

Luna's tail wagged while the house disappeared behind trees.

The wipers beat their rhythm. Rain hammered the roof. I-5 would be worse—trucks throwing spray and visibility dropping.

Mac's photograph from the Roastery sat on the passenger seat. His face caught mid-smile. Real. Unguarded.

I made it fifteen miles before the rain got worse. Visibility dropped to thirty yards. Semi-trucks threw walls of water.

A rest stop appeared through the blur. I signaled. Pulled in.

The engine ticked as it cooled. Rain drummed on the metal roof.

I pulled out my phone.

Eamon:Pulled over. Rain's bad. Waiting it out

A response came fast.

Mac:Smart. Where are you?

Eamon:Rest stop off 205. Maybe 20 minutes

Mac:Stay as long as you need

I stared at the message. Tried to remember the last time someone told me it was okay to wait.

Mac:For what it's worth, I'm glad you went to Michael's. You needed his input.

Eamon:Yeah. I did

The rain kept falling. A semi pulled in three spaces over, engine rumbling.

Mac:You think it's the stalker? The one who tried the door?

Eamon:Don't know. Could be coincidence

Mac:You don't believe in coincidence

He was right. I didn't.

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