The vehicle was not slowing down.

I reached for my sidearm, but my holster was empty.

The gun had been left on the study floor.

The headlights filled my entire field of vision, casting a long, desperate shadow behind me.

The bumper was only yards away.

I braced for the impact, my fingers curling into fists.

A sudden hand grabbed my collar from behind, jerking me hard into the wet grass of the ditch.

The vehicle roared past, spraying a sheet of dirty water over us.

I looked up through the darkness, gasping for air.

The face looking down at me was covered in rain.

“We have to move,” the voice said.

“Now.”

I stared at the face in disbelief as the rain poured down.

It was the last person I ever expected to see.

The headlights of the fleeing vehicle disappeared around the curve.

The silence of the suburban street returned, broken only by the steady drip of water from the oak trees.

I pushed myself up onto my elbows, my heart hammering against my ribs.

The figure in the uniform on the porch was gone.