I cut my headlights, relying on the pale moonlight filtering through the storm clouds.

The SUV swerved to block the narrow road, its tires spinning in the deep mud.

I did not wait to see who was inside.

I swung the wheel hard to the right, driving the sedan down the steep, unpaved service trail that led toward the highway.

Branches scraped against the passenger door with a sharp, metallic screech.

The sedan bounced violently over the wet rocks, but the tires held.

Behind me, the SUV tried to turn around, its headlights sweeping across the dark pines before getting stuck in the ditch.

I hit the asphalt of the coastal highway and slammed my foot onto the gas.

My hands were steady on the wheel, but my skin felt cold.

The voice on the phone had belonged to David, my predecessor.

Arthur had told me David drowned in the harbor three years ago after a discrepancy in the ledger.

Now I knew David had survived, and he was still watching.

If David was calling me, the entire foundation of the Costello empire was crumbling faster than I had calculated.