Unable to come up with a reasonable explanation, Beth slid behind the wheel. The car's engine purred to life and she steered it toward Dry Creek. She hadn't had any luck in her in-person search at the county clerk’s office beyond finding a corporation name, but maybe she could find a clue to the buyer's identity in the online records.
Too late, she spotted the crater-sized pothole.
A tire dipped into the chasm. The car veered to the right.
Desperate to stay on the highway, she jerked the steering wheel left, overcorrecting and nearly shooting off the other side. As she pulled back into the correct lane, coffee sloshed out of the small opening on the top of her travel mug, soaking her hand and thigh.
She grabbed a gym towel from the passenger seat and looked back up.
A ten-point buck stood stock still in the middle of the two-lane road.
Anxiety rocketed through her body as she smashed the brake to the floor.
Nothing happened.
She pumped the pedal, each time slamming it to the floor in a vain attempt to stop the car's forward motion. Corn fields whizzed by as the car hurtled forward.
Panicking, she tried not to hyperventilate behind the wheel. Her choices were limited. Go head-to-head with the buck, which would decimate her tiny car and probably her in it, or swerve into the crops, hopefully avoiding the deep irrigation gullies often bordering the fields.
Icy dread froze her hands to the steering wheel. The seatbelt tightened against her chest. She fought to slow her breathing. In a heartbeat, she was an eight-year-old girl again, trapped upside down in her parents’ station wagon, c
rying for a mother who could no longer hear her.
As her heart hammered, the Mini Cooper barreled toward the mesmerized deer.
She murmured a Hail Mary under her breath and pulled the wheel to the right.
Chapter Five
The airbag slammed into Beth's chest, sending her body backwards. Her head bounced against the headrest. Pain and panic exploded through her body.
Her throat clenched. The world darkened around the edges. She had to get out. Now.
Choking on the inflated airbag’s chemical smell, she felt around for her seat belt clasp. God, what if she couldn't find it? Blood rushed through her ears. Sweat dripped down her forehead. She couldn't be trapped.
Not again.
Never again.
Her jittery fingers pushed against the clasp. It zipped across her body. Frantic, she slapped at the puffy airbag until it deflated enough to reach the door handle. She heaved the door open and stumbled out into the irrigation ditch.
Frigid water soaked through her jeans and spilled over the top of her cowboy boots.
She inhaled breath after breath of the cold October air that burned her nostrils, greedy and desperate, like a woman emerging from the depths of the ocean. Her heartbeat calmed. The world came back into focus.
Glancing back at her car, her stomach slid down to her wet toes.
Son of a bitch.
The front end had tipped forward into the gully, the hood folding up like an accordion. A foot of black water lapped at the mangled front end. The back tires rested on the bank nearest to the road.
Sucking on her bottom lip to keep it from quivering, she closed her eyes. Just a car, Beth. It's a damn car. Besides it breaks down too often. You can handle this.
When she opened her eyes again, the scene in front of her looked less like the end of the world and more like a manageable car crisis. Another manageable car crisis.
She stomped through the slushy ditch water and leaned inside the wreckage to swipe her gym bag from the floor in front of the passenger seat, then slogged her way up to the highway. The deer was nowhere to be found. Lucky him.
Grimacing, she punched in the number for her mechanic. Thanks to her many trips to Mad Mike's Mechanical, she'd memorized it months ago.