and maybe something with pumpkin spice.
She lifted one booted foot out onto the asphalt parking lot, the chilly air hitting her in a burst of December wind. Hoping the snowstorm headed this way would hold off, Alisha watched a vehicle approaching at high speed. The black SUV came to a skidding halt behind the white sports car now trying to back out of the parking space across from where Alisha had just pulled in.
Before she could exit her car, a window came down on the SUV. Then the air shattered with the sound of several rapid-fire gunshots, aimed at the sportscar.
Alisha screamed and sank down in her seat. When the shots kept coming, she crouched low and watched in horror as the couple in the sports car scrambled to find protection.
The gunman kept shooting. And they had no way out.
Alisha looked up and saw the gunman’s face in the bright lights from the twinkling decorations and the glow of streetlights. His cold, dead gaze stopped and froze on her.
She got a good look at him.
And...he got a good look at her.
Ducking back down, she held her breath. He’d try to kill her, too. She’d seen him. Bracing for a bullet, she heard people screaming, heard footsteps rapidly hitting the pavement as pedestrians tried to scramble away.
Dear Lord, please help these people and protect me. Help me. Alisha’s prayers seemed to freeze in her throat as she waited for more gunshots.
Instead, the vehicle’s motor revved and then the dark SUV spun away, tires squealing, the smell of rubber burning through the air. Only a few seconds had passed but the scene played over in Alisha’s mind in slow motion as she relived the sight of that face and then the screams from inside the tiny car. And then...a stunning split second of silence.
She heard people running and screaming. Quickly pulling out her phone, her hands shaking, she called 911 as she wobbled onto her feet and hurried to the car that now looked like it had been in a war zone, bullet holes scattered across it, the heavy vinyl convertible top split and torn.
“A shooting,” she said to the dispatcher. “At the Christmas market near West Fairmount Park.” She named the street and told the dispatcher what had happened. “I... I witnessed the shooting.”
People had gathered around and a security guard stood staring into the car, his expression full of shock. “What in the world?”
The dispatcher confirmed the location and told Alisha to stay on the phone.
“Officers on the way,” Alisha said to the scared guard after the dispatcher had told her as much. “Secure the scene and get these people back.”
She stepped away, her stomach roiling at the carnage in the two-seater car. Blood everywhere and both passengers slumped over, holding each other, their bodies riddled with bullet holes. They’d been smiling and happy seconds before and now they were obviously dead.
The other vehicle was long gone but while she waited she managed to give a description to the dispatcher.
“Large black SUV.” She named the model. “A driver and one shooter but I couldn’t make out the license plate. I didn’t see anyone else inside.”
But she remembered the shooter’s face. A light scruffy beard and stringy long dark hair covered by a thick wool cap. His eyes—black as night and dead. So dead inside.
Alisha stayed on the phone but heard the sound of sirens echoing through the chilly night. Her boots crunched against something as she tried to scan the surrounding area. She looked down and saw the delicate, gold-embossed Christmas ornament that had decorated the now-shattered streetlight hovering over the sports car. A star shape, shimmering white.
The ornament laid broken and crushed underneath her feet.
Hours later, Nathan Craig heard a ringing in his ears that would not go away. “Stop it,” he groaned, coming awake to find a weak slant of moonlight filtering through the darkness of his bedroom. He wiped at his sleepy eyes and glared at the dial of his watch.
Eleven o’clock.
Exhausted after an all-night surveillance and a day full of reports to his client, he’d gone to bed early and at his own place for once. Now he’d never get back to sleep.
Then he realized his phone was ringing. Not so unusual. Being a private investigator meant he had a lot of late-night calls from either clients or informants. And sometimes, from the angry subjects of his investigations.
Sitting up, he grabbed the annoying device and growled, “This had better be good.”
“Nathan?”
The voice was winded and scared, his name a whisper from a raw throat. But that voice held a familiar tone that hit deep in his gut.
“Alisha?”
“Yes.”
Now he was wide awake.
Knowing she’d never call him unless she was in trouble or really mad at him again, he said, “Alisha, what’s wrong?”
“I... I think someone’s trying to kill me,” she said, the tremor in her words destroying him.
He stood and grabbed his jeans, hit his toe on a chair and gritted his teeth. “Where are you? Are they after you right now?”
“I’m almost to Campton Creek. Just a few miles from the turnoff. I know they’re following me but I don’t see the SUV behind me. He’ll be back. I saw his face, Nathan. I witnessed a man shoot and kill two people. And you know what that means.”
“Hold on,” he said, his mind racing ahead while fear held his heart in a vise. “I can be there in fifteen minutes. You stay on the line with me, okay?”
“Okay.”
Then he thought better. “Have you called the police?”
She heaved a deep breath. “I had a police escort following me, watching my back. Two officers.”
“Where are they now?”
“Dead, I think. Someone shot out their tires and they crashed on the side of the road. The patrol car exploded. I should have stopped to help.”
Nathan closed his eyes and tried to focus. “You didn’t stop. Smart move.”
“I wanted to stop but... I saw the SUV. I sped up and rounded the big curve near Green Mountain.” Heaving a sigh that sounded more like a sob, she said, “I pulled off on a dirt lane but it’s a dead-end. I think the SUV went on by but I’m afraid to get back on the road.”
Nathan knew that curve. Just enough time to get her out of view of any car following her but also a dangerous place where someone could hide and wait for her.
“Did you call anyone else?”
“I called you,” she said through a shuddering sob. “Because
