Stamos was waiting outside her door with a policeman. The doorman was fretting while the policeman was filling out a report.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
Stamos rushed to explain. “Someone broke into your apartment.”
Officer Jay Watts asked Allison to walk through each room and let him know what, if anything, was missing.
Allison was shocked when she entered the apartment. The living room had been ransacked, and the desk drawers had been dumped on the floor. Drawers in the bedroom were also open and the contents spilled on the floor.
“If you have any valuables, you might want to check and see if they’re here,” Officer Watts said.
The only thing of value that Allison could think of was her laptop and the program she had been working on. Her computer was still in the bag she was carrying, so it was safe. She rushed to her closet to check the cubby where she hid her backup drive. It was exactly where she’d left it. Her clothes and shoes didn’t appear to have been disturbed.
“I told Officer Watts it was those people who did this,” Stamos told her when she returned to the living room. “Your aunt and uncle. I knew they were trouble the second I saw how they treated their Chrysler. They were here causing another fit downstairs. I had to let them in the lobby because the woman was banging on the glass, and I was worried she was going to break it. I had to help 3A with her packages, but I made sure those relatives of yours had left the premises before I got on the elevator. I’m betting they came back in with another tenant and went on up. I’m sure it was them who did this,” he insisted to the officer.
“If it was your relatives, what were they looking for?” the officer asked Allison.
“Money,” she answered, “or uncashed checks. That’s all they would be interested in.”
Officer Watts finished making notes and then said he would inspect the building for any other break-ins. He’d get back to her if he needed any other information.
Before Stamos left he told her the manager had been alerted and promised the damaged lock on her door would be replaced within the hour.
Allison needed a shower, but she wasn’t going to take one until she had a new lock. While she waited she heated a frozen Hungry-Man dinner and ate a banana and blueberries. An hour later the lock had been repaired, and she was showered and dressed. She was ready to curl up on her sofa and read her e-mails.
Unfortunately, she didn’t have time to relax because she got another dreaded call from the unit. This time one of the assistants called and insisted the matter was urgent, but then it always was, wasn’t it? She was also told it wouldn’t take long, which made her laugh. Her laptop and purse went into her backpack, phone and keys in her hand, and she was on her way. She had just pulled onto the highway when a car came barreling up behind her. Had she not floored the engine and gotten out of his way, he would have rear-ended her. Traffic was congested as usual, and it wasn’t until she turned onto another highway that she noticed the car again. She couldn’t tell what the make or model was. It looked like a dark-colored SUV with tinted windows. The highway was four lanes, and there was plenty of room for him, but she still moved to the far lane to get away from him. She glanced in the rearview mirror several times and couldn’t see him and assumed he had sped on.
Suddenly he was there, right behind her, riding her bumper, and as she was turning onto the exit ramp, he tapped the side of her car. She barely had time to react before he hit her again, harder this time. Why was this happening? Was it road rage? And, if so, how had she incited the driver? As she swerved to avoid a third hit, her phone flew across the car seat. She grabbed it and pushed speed dial to get Phillips. Careering on two wheels, her car turned onto the gravel road leading to the cyber unit. The crazy car was still right behind her.
Phillips answered on the first ring, and she could tell from the echo he had it on speaker. He sounded as impatient as ever.
“It’s Allison. I need help. Someone’s trying to run me off the road. He’s hit me twice . . . no, three times now.”
“Where are you?” Liam asked the question.
She was so shocked to hear his voice, she didn’t answer.
“Where are you?” he demanded again.
“About a mile and a half out. I just turned onto the gravel road.” It was the perfect place for a carjacking, scrub trees on both sides of the road, not a house in sight. She was all alone. “Oh God, here he comes again.”
“Try to stay ahead of him,” Phillips said.
“Liam . . .”
“He’s on his way to you,” Phillips told her. “Keep your head low. Don’t be a target. Help is coming.” His voice was calming, and that freaked her out almost as much as being hit.
Don’t be a target? Did he think the maniac driver might have a gun? She didn’t have a chance to ask him what he meant. She got hit again, and this time it was spot-on. The angle was perfect. She lost control of her car and started spinning around and around. She couldn’t get the car to stop and made the mistake of hitting the brakes hard. That error sent her flying down a hill. The dead bushes didn’t impede her fall. The fat tree stump did. It was only a couple of feet high, but the car hit it full on and flipped over again and again. She felt as though she were in a barrel, rolling down a hill. Her backpack landed on her chest just a second before her airbag deployed. It took most of the impact and protected her.
She became a firm believer in miracles at that very moment. The car landed upright. Both sides were caved in; glass from the shattered windshield was all over the bucket seats; the tires were blown . . . and she didn’t have a scratch on her. Her laptop had fallen out of the bag and, crushed by the imploding car door, lay in pieces on the floor. She thought she might be dead and just didn’t know it yet. She whispered a prayer and tried to calm her racing heartbeat. She realized then she was perfectly fine except for one little thing. She couldn’t seem to let go of the steering wheel.
When she looked up through the broken windshield, she could see headlights on the hill. They quickly retreated and she could hear the car zoom away. The sky went black, and it was eerily quiet. Then suddenly there were spotlights shining down on her. She heard Liam calling her name. He sounded frantic. If she hadn’t heard his voice, she would have panicked. She was already thinking about the gas tank blowing up. That usually happened in movies with car chases, didn’t it? Of course the driver was usually killed, and here she sat, as fit as ever.
The seat belt was jammed, and the window wouldn’t open, but Liam got her out. He had to break the side glass and cut the belt. He also had to peel her hands away from the steering wheel. His expression was grim, and yet he was being so gentle with her as he lifted her through the window. Phillips was there, too, and he looked almost as worried as Liam. How had they gotten there so fast?
Liam didn’t let go of her. He held her tight against him. She could feel him shaking when he asked, “Are you all right? Are you bleeding anywhere?”
“I’m fine,” she said, surprised she could raise her voice to little more than a whisper.
“Whoever did this to you . . .”
Hoping to calm him, she motioned for him to put her down. She brushed herself off and said, “All right, then. I’m going to need a ride.”
Phillips actually smiled, a first for him, but Liam still looked as though he wanted to go to war. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders for support and said, “You’re going to the hospital. You could have internal bleeding . . . a brain injury . . . or a—”
“I am not going to the hospital,” she argued. “I didn’t hit my head, and my backpack protected me from the airbag.” It wasn’t until she got a good look at her car that she started shaking. Then she spotted the remains of her laptop. “My computer . . . ,” she began.
“We’ll take care of that for you,” Phillips assured her.
It really was a miracle she survived without a single injury. “I’m fine, Liam,” she protested. “And I most assuredly am not bleeding internally.”
“Unless you have X-ray vision, you can’t know if you’re bleeding or not.”