she had her wad of cash and the bus ticket she’d bought in San Antonio. In her shoe, under her heel, she could feel the hard shape of the key to the locker in Abilene.
Finally she got out of the car and stood holding the door open.
One more time Isabel checked to make sure the leather pack was wedged under the front seat. For a moment she considered putting it in the glove compartment for safety, but decided that might look a little too staged.
Nervously she patted her pocket, the one containing her money and her ticket to a new life, then tugged the cap even lower over her eyes.
At last she reached inside to slip the car into neutral, gripped the door frame and began to push it toward the edge of the precipice. As soon as it went over the cliff among the scrub mesquite and cactus, she would set off down the road in the opposite direction from the way she’d come, like a jogger out for a run in the cool of the evening. In the unlikely event that anybody asked, she could say she’d already passed the lookout point and hadn’t seen a car there.
Her plan was to jog about four miles—an easy distance for Isabel—to the bus depot in Crystal Creek, which was the nearest small town. There she would use the ticket in her pocket to board a bus, ride up to Abilene, about a hundred miles away, and collect her stash of money and her ID.
She would have to lie low for a while in Abilene, of course, until she knew Eric had finally given up searching for her. Then she could devise some way to get safely out of the country. Maybe she’d try going to Mexico again, or to Canada…
But just as the front wheels of the Mercedes hung in space, ready to plunge over the cliff, one of the back wheels was blocked by a small boulder. Isabel pushed and sweated, trying with all her might to rock the little car free.
Suddenly she heard the sound of an approaching vehicle.
“Oh, hell,” she muttered, looking around wildly. “Now what?”
There was nowhere to hide among the scrub mesquite and boulders, and the sound was growing closer. In fact, it sounded like two vehicles, possibly a couple of kids on dirt bikes.
If somebody spotted her up here trying to push the car over the cliff, all her careful plans would be ruined. Worse than ruined, because Eric would know what she’d tried to do, and from now on he’d dog her movements even more relentlessly.
The man was bent on possessing her. If he couldn’t, he would surely kill her. And after this, nothing would stop him.
With a despairing sob, Isabel gave one great heave and finally sent the small vehicle over the edge. As it fell she closed her eyes and jumped into the void just behind it.
The next few moments seemed to take hours. She was conscious of space and weightlessness, of the sun blinding her and of the wind that tugged at her clothes and sang in her ears.
Then she was crashing down through tree branches and rustling leaves, rolling among thickets of brush that scratched her face and hands. At the same time she heard a mighty splash, followed by a chorus of startled cries from across the river.
Isabel lay facedown in the heavy brush, cradling her head in her arms like a woman awaiting a blow. Her chest heaved and her heart raced. She was gasping so hard that she was sure her breathing must be audible all the way across the river.
Gradually she began to realize her body was still in one piece and that, for the moment at least, she was safe. Through the screen of brush she could hear the people across the river, their voices clear and distinct on the evening air.
“It was a car!” somebody shouted. “A little blue car. I saw it just when it hit the water!”
“Was anybody in it?”
“I couldn’t tell,” the reply came as Isabel strained to hear, trying to calm her noisy breathing.
“Somebody call the fire department! Jimmy, get one of those trucks and drive downriver. See if you can find anybody in the water.”
Slowly her panic ebbed. Apparently the people on the opposite bank hadn’t noticed her body when she’d jumped off the cliff behind the car. And whoever had been driving up to the summit behind her wouldn’t have arrived in time to see her jump.
Isabel sat up and did a cautious assessment of her physical state.
She was covered with dirt, had a lot of scrapes and bruises, and was bleeding freely from a gash on her right arm where the jacket sleeve had been torn to shreds. Her face felt moist, and when she touched her cheek, her fingers came away red with blood.
“Damn,” she muttered, her thoughts racing. “Damn!”
It would be impossible to get on the bus in this condition without being noticed. Somehow she had to figure out a way to get herself cleaned up and find a change of clothes.
Maybe when darkness came, she could steal something from a farmer’s clothesline. But did anybody even use clotheslines anymore?
Isabel didn’t have a clue. She’d never done laundry in her life.
Meanwhile the confusion on the other side of the river seemed to be growing. She heard sirens approaching in the distance, then the frantic barking of a dog.
“Oh, God, I need to get away from here,” she said, looking around wildly.
The witnesses clearly weren’t sure the car had been occupied when it went into the water. But even if nobody had seen her falling behind it, they would still come over here and search the riverbank in case a driver or passengers had fallen out while the car was in flight and were lying injured in the bushes.
Shivering in the evening chill, Isabel pulled off her jacket, gripped the hem between her teeth and tore a ragged strip from the front to bind her arm, then twisted the length of cloth with a stick until the bleeding stopped.
She wondered if her arm needed stitches and how she was going to get proper medical attention. But when she removed her makeshift tourniquet, the flow of blood was just a trickle, already clotting.
The sky darkened, and Isabel looked up to see clouds massing overhead. Lightning split the air, and a low rumble of thunder came shuddering across the hills. At the same time, raindrops began to land on her face and patter in the bushes nearby.
The rain was a stroke of good luck, Isabel realized. A heavy rainfall would soon wash away any trace of her presence on the riverbank, even if they came and searched with dogs.
But she had to find some shelter. Maybe she could pay somebody to—
With sudden, heart-stopping terror, she paused and looked down at her torn jacket. For the first time she realized that not just the sleeve but most of the jacket’s right front, including the pocket, had been completely torn away.
Slowly, numb with dread, Isabel tried to make her sluggish mind work out what had happened.
As she’d pushed the car, her jacket must have caught on it somewhere, maybe the door or the rear bumper. Her pocket had been ripped free, possibly even carried into the water with the car.
And that meant her money and her bus ticket to Abilene were both gone.
She whimpered, then
