Slow Burn(23)

    “So where do you live?”

    “Here in town,” I lied.

    “What part?”

    “On campus,” I said. I could be living on the WVU campus, couldn’t I?

    “Oh,” he said. “Cool.”

    I tried a smile. “Why do you care?”

    His eyes got big, and he looked really uncomfortable. “Just making conversation.”

    Shane came back with my “product.” I paid. I left.

    I was pretty shaken up as I walked back to my car. I peered around in the darkness, expecting a guy in a black suit with sunglasses to jump out at me at any second.

    I walked past hedges and porches. Past fences and flower gardens. I glanced over my shoulder every few seconds.

    The first time I turned, I saw a stop sign behind me, out of the corner of my eye.

    The second time, I saw a dog.

    I was three feet from my car before I saw the man. I could barely see him because he was dressed in black, but I saw the white of his shirt.

    I turned around and started running for my car, yanking open the driver’s side door.

    I dug in my pocket for my keys.

    They came out too fast, slipping through my fingers and landing on the pavement.

    Shit.

    I went down on my hands and knees, looking up to see how much the man had gained on me.

    There was no one there.

    What I had mistaken for an Op Wraith agent was a pile of garbage bags, three bags on top of each other. The middle bag was white.

    I swore at it.

    Then I picked up my keys, got in my car, and started it.

    “Calm down, Leigh,” I whispered to myself. “You’re okay.” But my heart was beating in my chest, and I was feeling ready to jump out of my skin.

    For two seconds, I contemplated doing a little bump.

    “Don’t be an idiot, Leigh.”

    “It’ll make me feel good,” I responded.

    “No, it won’t. It’ll make you more nervous.”

    Fuck. I was talking to myself. I was answering myself. I locked the car doors, and I pulled the car out. I had to go up to the next street to turn around. I leaned forward, peering anxiously through the windshield.

    Same old Morgantown at night. There were some young people walking along the streets smoking cigarettes. There was a car ahead of me, going super slow.

    “Kids smoking weed,” I murmured.

    I checked my rearview mirror.

    No one was behind me.

    I wanted to pass the super slow car ahead of me, because I wanted to get out of here as soon as possible. But I couldn’t just pass on a residential street like this. I’d be breaking the law. If a cop saw, then I’d get in trouble, and I had drugs in the car.

    I checked my rearview mirror.

    There were no cops around.

    Should I do it?

    I couldn’t do it. I crept along behind the car for four or five blocks.

    Man, they were really going slow. I should pass.

    I checked my rearview mirror.

    Headlights.

    I screamed.

    “No,” I whispered. “It’s okay. It’s just a car behind you. It’s not a cop car. It’s not an Operation Wraith car.”

    I hoped, anyway.

    In front of me, the slow pot-smoking car put on its blinker and turned right.

    I sped up to a normal speed.

    The car behind me sped up too.

    I rocked back and forth, gripping the steering wheel as tight as I could. “Turn,” I begged the car. “Turn off.”

    But then it was time for my turn. I turned onto Grafton Road. Now, I’d be okay.

    The car behind me turned too.

    Fuck. What were the odds?

    I had to stay on this road for fifteen minutes. Surely the car would turn off soon.

    I kept driving. I slowed down. If I went slow, the car would pass me, right?

    It didn’t pass me. I slowed down further.

    It slowed down too.

    I drove that way for a long time, creeping along the road, my gaze flitting from the road to my rear view mirror. Certainly, they’d pass me soon. Or they’d turn off onto another road. They couldn’t keep following me forever.