Chapter 2 - The Car Behind Her
The first time Elena noticed the black sedan following her, she told herself she was imagining things.
The second time, she recognized the driver.
He had been standing beside Bianca Salvi at Anthony Moretti's funeral.
Rain hammered the windshield as Elena guided her father's aging green sedan through the deserted streets of Marblehead. Her wedding ring was gone. Her husband was behind her. And for the first time in two years, she had no idea where she would sleep.
Her phone vibrated.
Dante.
She rejected the call.
It rang again.
Then a message appeared.
Elena, come back. We need to talk.
She almost laughed.
He had been offered that opportunity.
He had chosen silence.
At the next intersection, she turned toward the coastal highway. The black sedan turned with her.
Her stomach tightened.
She remembered the man now.
Tall. Balding. A pale scar above his right eyebrow.
He had introduced himself at the funeral as Marcus Bell, an associate of Sylvio Salvi.
But something about that introduction had bothered her.
Anthony had been dead only three days, and Marcus had seemed more interested in watching the Moretti family than mourning.
Elena checked her rearview mirror.
The sedan accelerated.
Her phone rang again.
This time, she answered.
"What?"
"Where are you?" Dante demanded.
"Somewhere you don't get to tell me what to do."
"Elena, listen carefully. I need you to—"
"You needed to listen to me six hours ago."
"Bianca just left. I found something."
The black sedan closed the distance.
Elena's fingers tightened around the steering wheel.
"What did you find?"
"A message on her phone. Someone knows you're driving your father's car."
Cold spread through Elena's chest.
"How?"
"Tell me where you are."
She looked into the mirror.
"Someone's following me."
For one terrible second, Dante said nothing.
Then his voice changed.
"Do not stop."
The sedan behind her flashed its headlights.
"Dante—"
"Keep driving. Stay on the main road. I'm coming."
The call disconnected.
Elena accelerated.
Her father's car had never been built for speed. Its engine protested as she pushed past fifty-five miles per hour.
The road curved along the Atlantic.
On her right, black water struck the rocks below.
On her left, dense winter trees leaned over the narrow shoulder.
The black sedan moved closer.
Then it struck her rear bumper.
Elena screamed.
The green car lurched sideways.
She fought the steering wheel, barely avoiding the guardrail.
The baby kicked.
"Please," she whispered, pressing one hand against her belly. "Please, sweetheart."
The sedan struck again.
This time, the impact pushed her toward the opposite lane.
Elena saw headlights approaching.
She swerved.
Her tires slid across wet pavement.
The oncoming truck blasted its horn.
For one horrifying moment, all she could see was white light.
Then the green sedan spun, struck a roadside barrier, and stopped with its front wheel hanging over a drainage ditch.
The engine died.
Silence followed.
Not complete silence.
Rain.
The ticking of hot metal.
Her own ragged breathing.
Elena touched her belly.
"Baby?"
A small movement answered.
She began crying.
Behind her, a car door slammed.
Elena looked up.
Marcus Bell was walking toward her.
He wasn't hurrying.
That frightened her most.
He approached like a man collecting something already purchased.
Elena locked the doors.
Marcus tapped the window.
"Mrs. Moretti."
She stared at him.
"Your husband sent me."
She shook her head.
"No."
He smiled.
"Open the door."
Elena reached for her phone.
The screen was cracked but functioning.
She pressed Dante's name.
Marcus noticed.
His smile disappeared.
He pulled a metal tool from his coat.
The driver's window shattered.
Elena screamed as glass scattered across her lap.
Marcus reached through the opening and grabbed her wrist.
"Don't make this difficult."
She struck his arm with her phone.
He cursed.
Then a pair of headlights appeared around the curve.
A dark SUV stopped behind Marcus's sedan.
A man stepped out.
"Let her go."
Marcus froze.
Elena recognized the voice.
Luca Ferraro.
Dante's head of security.
Luca raised his handgun but kept it pointed toward the ground.
"Step away from the car."
Marcus released Elena.
For a second, she thought the nightmare was over.
Then Marcus smiled.
"You came alone?"
Luca didn't answer.
"That was stupid."
Two more men emerged from the black sedan.
Luca moved toward Elena.
"Mrs. Moretti, stay down."
A gunshot cracked through the rain.
Elena ducked.
Another shot followed.
Luca stumbled against the guardrail.
"Go!" he shouted.
Elena tried to start the engine.
Nothing.
She turned the key again.
The engine coughed.
Marcus reached through the broken window.
Elena grabbed the emergency hammer her father had kept beneath the driver's seat.
She struck Marcus's hand.
He screamed.
The engine started.
Elena slammed the accelerator.
The sedan lurched forward, scraped the barrier, and climbed back onto the road.
She drove blindly through the rain.
Behind her, gunfire echoed.
She didn't know whether Luca was alive.
She didn't know whether Marcus was following.
She knew only that her baby was still moving.
Five miles later, she pulled into the emergency entrance of a small hospital in Salem.
She stumbled through the automatic doors.
A nurse rushed toward her.
"I'm pregnant," Elena gasped. "Someone tried to kill me."
The nurse caught her as her knees buckled.
Within minutes, Elena was on an examination bed while a physician checked her blood pressure and ordered fetal monitoring.
Her pulse was racing.
Her left wrist was bruised.
Small cuts covered her cheek.
But the baby's heartbeat filled the room.
Strong.
Steady.
Alive.
Elena covered her mouth and cried.
A nurse gently touched her shoulder.
"You're safe here."
Elena wanted to believe her.
Then the examination-room door opened.
Dante stood in the doorway, rain dripping from his black coat.
His face was pale.
He looked at the monitor.
Then at Elena.
Then at the blood on her sleeve.
For a moment, he couldn't speak.
He took one step toward her.
Elena raised her hand.
"Don't."
He stopped.
"Elena—"
"Your silence almost killed our baby."
Dante closed his eyes.
She had never seen him look so defeated.
Then his phone vibrated.
He glanced at the screen.
A photograph appeared.
Luca Ferraro lay unconscious beside the coastal road.
Beneath the photograph was a message.
Your wife survived because we allowed it.
A second message followed.
Ask her what she knows about Anthony.
Dante looked up.
May you like
And Elena realized that the person hunting her believed she knew something about a murder.
Something even her husband had never told her.
