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Chapter One
Present Day
Miranda unlocked her door, a peculiar sensation making
her halt before she entered her car. She turned and
looked around the garage, trying to find the source of
her uneasiness. The garage was well lit. Only a few cars
were still parked, typical for a Saturday evening, but
something was off. The hair on her nape rose in silent
warning. It almost seemed as if she were being watched.
She
scanned the area one more time. Nothing but cars and a
garage attendant in the office. Miranda shrugged the
feeling off and slipped in behind the wheel.
Perhaps she’d put too many hours on this project. But
she wasn’t going to regret that now, not when she was
finally done.
After cranking the car, Miranda shifted into reverse,
pulled out of the parking garage, and headed home.
The
nights were the worse. It was then, she would allow
herself to really think about what had happened in the
past three years, and it was the only time she would lay
down on a cold bed and cry. The silence helped in
momentarily unloading her burden, in easing the pressure
of her emotions.
She
didn’t regret saving the lives of millions, but what she
did regret was how she had to go about it. She would go
after him and try to make things right for the both of
them. It was time she put her fears to rest and get on
with her future. She had her dreams and because they
included Devin, once the distribution codes were in the
right hands, she would try and repair her marriage.
Her
biggest fear, however, was whether she’d waited to long.
Would he let her come back after three years?
Miranda steered onto the road, the rain making
navigation a bit difficult. Orange cones stood in the
mud, warning her of a closed lane ahead. She steered to
the only available lane. The rain was pouring in heavy,
quick drops from the cloudy skies. Her windshield wipers
didn’t help her see anything clearer. She narrowed her
eyes, focusing on her driving.
A
pair of bright headlights from behind forced her to cast
a quick glance at her rearview mirror. A large, dark SUV
was approaching a little too fast for comfort. She
tapped her breaks, hoping the driver would get the idea
and give her some space.
She
saw the SUV speed up even more, closing to within mere
inches of her back bumper. In that instant, Miranda knew
the driver wasn’t going to stop. She tried to swerve her
car to the right, an impossible fete when the lane was
so narrow. She screamed as the car rammed her at high
speed, the jolt knocking the steering wheel from her
grip. Her car skidded out of control, broke through a
leafy shrub, and then crashed into a ditch. Her body
shot forward with the force of the impact, and her head
slammed against the steering wheel.
The
image of Devin passed through her mind, and Miranda
wished, for a blissful second, that she had the
opportunity to make amends with her husband.
She
opened her eyes, trying hard to assess the damage. Thank
god the car didn’t flip on its side. Her foot still
pressed hard on the gas, and the tires were still
spinning, spraying dirt onto the car and into the air.
She lifted her foot off the pedal, and winced. The
simultaneous pain in her foot and head forcing her to
shut her eyes.
Someone yanked her car door opened. Wind and rain hit
her like a whiplash. With a moan, she turned her head
slightly, opened her eyes, and fought against the need
to pass out.
A
black cloaked figure watched her. She couldn’t drop her
gaze as she sat staring in horror at the ski-mask that
shielded his face from her view. She could only make
out two black eyes and a thin-lipped mouth, through the
openings. But then, her focus dropped from his mouth the
moment he raised a gun, which he aimed at her head.
Terror made her limbs immoveable as she stared down the
barrel, wondering if this was how her life would end.
“Dr.
Miranda Cruz...” Hearing him say her name left her cold
and ensured her that she was the target. “What are the
distribution codes?”
Numb, she shook her head and cringed as renewed pain
swept through her head at the sudden movement. Her foot
throbbed, but even without the injury she’d never outrun
a bullet.
Then
another male voice, concerned and distant, called out.
“Everyone all right? You need an ambulance?” A Good
Samaritan...a passing motorist, just stopping to help.
She
wanted to scream a warning... Would he kill them all?
Then, the man’s gun disappeared inside his clothes.
“A
warning, Dr. Cruz. You best listen. Stop the
distribution of the vaccine or die.” |
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