She had a flat tire? The car dropped back and slid in behind her again. Turning down the radio with trembling fingers, she listened for any unusual thumping on the road. Her little car rolled smoothly on the asphalt, taking each turn with ease. How could she have a flat?

Biting her bottom lip, she peered into the rearview mirror at the blue sedan still riding her tail. Was this some kind of trick to get her to pull off the road? Maybe if the guy had a family with him she’d follow his advice, but she didn’t have any intention of stopping for some single guy in the middle of the night, especially some single guy wearing sunglasses in the middle of the night. Did he think he was Jack Nicholson or something?

Over the past three years, she’d finally put the freaks and weirdos behind her. She didn’t need to go looking for them.

She sped up to put distance between her car and the dark sedan behind her. Her tires squealed as she took the last curve on the highway and her car shuddered in the back. She gasped and squeezed the steering wheel. Maybe she did have a flat.

The light from Ben Pickett’s service station glowed at the bottom of the hill, and Julia’s pulse slowed to a steady beat. At nine o’clock Ben would still be working.

Careening into the parking lot, she angled her car in front of the brightly lit market. She hunched down in the seat and watched the dark sedan speed past the service station. Either the driver didn’t realize she’d stopped or he figured he performed his good deed for the night…or he knew he couldn’t strangle her at the service station.

She jumped at the tap on her window. Ben, his cap pulled low on his forehead, grinned at her.