Page 90 of Night Prey
“No, oh no. In fact, I just saw her drive off a little while ago. We even waved at each other.”
If Malone was waving, she was probably all right.
“How can I help you?” he asked.
“Remember you told me to let you know if there was anything else?”
“Yes.”
“Well, my hubby said there was video of someone repairing Malone’s car on Monday.”
The day they’d gone to Peck’s place. Ian’s gut tightened. “Did your husband keep the video?”
“He deleted it from his iPad, but he downloaded it from the security company, and I emailed it to you just like you taught me.” She sounded very proud of herself. “My hubby also said he saw a similar pickup sitting up the road by a neighbor’s house for the last few days, including this morning.”
That didn’t sound good. “Did he catch a license plate?”
“I asked, but he said the guy wasn’t in the truck, and he didn’t know if it was the same one. We’re usually real careful about strange vehicles on our street, but the Olsens are remodeling, and workers’ vehicles are coming and going all the time. We don’t pay much attention to them.”
“Thank you for the information.” He disconnected and shared what he’d learned with Londyn while he opened his email and held out his phone. He and Londyn watched the video together.
A man pulled up in a black Ford F-150 and parked in front of Beatrice’s house. The license plate was out of view.
“Too bad we can’t see the plates,” Ian said.
“Such a common truck it could be anyone.”
He sat in the truck for a while, glancing around.
“C’mon, C’mon, C’mon. Get out. Show your face.”
“I can’t make out who it is either,” Londyn said.
The guy finally climbed out and carried a bag of tools across the road, his back to the camera the entire time. He got down on the ground by Malone’s front tires and did something that took only a few minutes, then scooted out and marched back across the street.
As the man neared the camera, Ian’s heart sank to his stomach. “It’s Flagg Sr.”
“He wasn’t fixing her car,” Londyn said. “He was tampering with it. Maybe like he’d done to her parents’ car.”
“And Malone just drove off in that vehicle.”
20
The rain picked up, spitting on Malone’s windshield, and she could barely see the road ahead in the dusk. But she couldn’t let go of the wheel to turn on the wipers. She gripped with all her strength and tried to apply the brakes, but the car had a mind of its own and pulled the vehicle toward the embankment.
She whipped the wheel the opposite direction. Nothing changed. Her trajectory continued toward the edge of the road.
Please, protect me. Please.
A loud thump sounded under the car. The wheels squealed, the high-pitched sound eerie.
The wheel grabbed the gravel shoulder, and she lost total control. The vehicle shot over the edge of the embankment and plunged down the steep terrain toward a granddaddy of a pine tree.
She couldn’t stop the car from careening closer, the speed blazing fast.
No. No. No.Ian had been right. She only had a lap belt and no airbags. Lap belts had killed her parents.
Was history about to repeat itself?
