But bad was the small, spiked metal ball her fingers found embedded in the rubber—and worse was the truck, its headlights on bright, pulling off the two-lane highway and onto the shoulder twenty yards behind her Jeep. The tire iron in her hands rattled against the one lug nut she'd had time to crack loose. She hadn't even raised the jack yet; it lay on the icy asphalt behind the flat front tire. No, not much time had passed at all. He must have been waiting off the road for her to drive by, his truck concealed by the dark and the snow. Don't panic, Emma told herself, and pulled in a long breath between her chattering teeth. Now was definitely not the time to panic. Still gripping the tire iron, Emma rose from her crouch. The rattling rumble of his diesel motor cut off. The pounding of her heart filled the sudden, snow-muffled silence. Stay calm. She tugged open the front door of her Jeep, slid into the driver's seat, and hit the locks. Emma had been living in Seattle the past five years, but she'd kept up on the local news.
