Still Lake - Anne Stuart [71]
He pulled into the picnic spot that overlooked Dutchman’s Falls and flicked off the lights. When she approached the turn he’d pull out, fast, bright lights on full, and she’d jerk the wheel out of the way and go over that cliff with a crash of shrieking metal. And he’d pray for her immortal soul.
It was possible she was a good enough driver to miss him, to keep control of the car, to drive around him. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that. He didn’t want to chase her through the darkness. Didn’t want to terrify her—she’d been a good woman most of her life. Surely God wouldn’t want him to frighten her too badly.
But her sin was all the greater, because she knew right from wrong. She’d kept herself pure, and then given herself away to a stranger. A stranger who wanted to hurt him.
Over the years many men had sought him, trying to stop the Lord’s work, but none of them had ever guessed the truth until it was too late.
She’d surrendered her purity to such a creature. He knew it without anyone telling him. He watched, he observed, he knew things. He knew how to add two and two. And he knew how to subtract. Take one Davis woman out of the picture. Then the others would follow.
The lights of the Subaru appeared on the horizon. She was still driving fast, though not as fast as he would have liked. The teenagers had been easy—they were speeding, enmeshed in each other, barely paying attention to the road. The autopsy showed they’d both been drinking.
But even upset, Sophie drove with relative care. Making his job all the harder.
He hadn’t asked for the easy way. He’d been chosen for this holy work, and he wouldn’t flinch from his responsibility.
The car rounded the sharp corner by the falls, and he flicked his lights on high beam and stomped on the gas pedal, heading straight at her.
He was coming down the road in her lane. The only way for her to avoid him was to move to the left lane, and then he’d simply move farther over, so that she found herself flying over the edge of the cliff. The engine of the old Ford roared, like a charging beast, and she swerved to the left, exactly as he’d planned.
He moved closer to her, blocking her escape. She had no choice but try to ditch it on the side of the road that overlooked Dutchman’s Falls, and he knew how soft the shoulder was. It wouldn’t take much to crumble beneath the weight of the car. It would take a miracle to save her, and there were no miracles for sinners like her.
The bright lights illuminated the interior of the Subaru, blinding her. He watched her, fascinated, as he bore down on her. The confusion and terror in her eyes. The tears that stained her face.
Tears? Remorse? Was it possible that this time he’d been wrong? That she’d repented of her sin? It was too late, though. The front fender of his truck clipped the side of her Subaru, and she went spinning toward the cliff, the lighter car completely out of control on the rain-slick highway.
He didn’t hesitate, didn’t slow down. He simply sped off into the darkness, Madonna singing about getting down on her knees in prayer, and he knew he’d done what he had to do.
It happened so fast Sophie didn’t have time to think. Blinded by the headlights, she could only sense the huge vehicle coming straight at her. The crunch of metal, and she was spinning crazily, desperately trying to control the steering wheel as the car bounced off the road.
She slammed on the brakes, and the car kept skidding in the darkness, over rough ground, until it came to an abrupt stop.
She didn’t know how long she sat there, numb with shock. She’d had her seat belt on, of course, but she’d still managed to hit her head on something, and she thought she was bleeding. With numb fingers she unfastened the seat belt. The car had stalled out, but the lights were spearing out into the darkness, into nothingness, and the rain was coming down in a steady