Keeper of the Bride / Whistleblower: Keeper of the Bride / Whistleblower

That ride to the church, the smiles, the laughter, seemed a lifetime away. She started the Honda and pulled out of her mother’s driveway.

In a daze she drove south, toward Hunts Point. Toward Robert’s house. What had been their house. The road was winding, and she was functioning on automatic pilot, steering without thought along the curves. What if Robert hadn’t really left town? she thought. What if he’s home? What would they say to each other?

Try: goodbye.

She gripped the steering wheel and thought of all the things she’d like to tell him. All the ways she felt used and betrayed. A whole year kept going through her head. One whole bloody year of my life.

Only as she swung past Smugglers Cove did she happen to glance in the rearview mirror. A black Ford was behind her. The same Ford that had been there a few miles back, near Delano Park. At any other time, she would have thought nothing of it. But today, after the possibilities Detective Navarro had raised…

She shook off a vague sense of uneasiness and kept driving. She turned onto Ocean House Drive.

The Ford did too. There was no reason for alarm. Ocean House Drive was, after all, a main road in the neighborhood. Another driver might very well have reason to turn onto it as well.

Just to ease her anxiety, she took the left turnoff, toward Peabbles Point. It was a lonely road, not heavily traveled. Here’s where she and the Ford would surely part company.

The Ford took the same turnoff.

Now she was getting frightened.

She pressed the accelerator. The Honda gained speed. At fifty miles per hour, she knew she was taking the curves too fast, but she was determined to lose the Ford. Only she wasn’t losing him. He had sped up, too. In fact, he was gaining on her.

With a sudden burst of speed, the Ford roared up right beside her. They were neck and neck, taking the curves in parallel.

He’s trying to run me off the road! she thought.

She glanced sideways, but all she could see through the other car’s tinted window was the driver’s silhouette. Why are you doing this? she wanted to scream at him. Why?

The Ford suddenly swerved toward her. The thump of the other car’s impact almost sent the Honda spinning out of control. Nina fought to keep her car on course.

Her fingers clamped more tightly around the wheel. Damn this lunatic! She had to shake him off.

She hit the brakes.

The Ford shot ahead—only momentarily. It quickly slowed as well and was back beside her, swerving, bumping.

She managed another sideways glance. To her surprise, the Ford’s passenger window had been rolled down. She caught a glimpse of the driver—a male. Dark hair. Sunglasses.

In the next instant her gaze shot forward to the road, which crested fifty yards ahead.

Another car had just cleared the crest and was barreling straight toward the Ford.

Tires screeched. Nina felt one last violent thump, felt the sting of shattering glass against her face. Then suddenly she was soaring sideways.

She never lost consciousness. Even as the Honda flew off the road. Even as it tumbled over and over across shrubbery and saplings.

It came to a rest, upright, against a maple tree.

Though fully awake, Nina could not move for a moment. She was too stunned to feel pain, or even fear. All she felt was amazement that she was still alive.

Then, gradually, an awareness of discomfort seeped through the layers of shock. Her chest hurt, and her shoulder. It was the seat belt. It had saved her life, but it had also bruised her ribs.

Groaning, she pressed the belt release and felt herself collapse forward, against the steering wheel.

“Hey! Hey, lady!”

Nina turned to see a face anxiously peering through the window. It was an elderly man. He yanked open her door. “Are you all right?” he asked.

“I’m—I think so.”

“I’d better call an ambulance.”

“No, I’m fine. Really, I am.” She took a deep breath. Her chest was sore, but that seemed to be her only injury. With the old man’s help, she climbed out of the car. Though a little unsteady, she was able to stand. She was shocked by the damage.

Her car was a mess. The driver’s door had been bashed in, the window was shattered, and the front fender was peeled off entirely.

She turned and glanced toward the road. “There was another car,” she said. “A black one—”

“You mean that damn fool who tried to pass you?”

“Where is it?”

“Took off. You oughta report that fella. Probably drunk as a skunk.”

Drunk? Nina didn’t think so. Shivering, she hugged herself and stared at the road, but she saw no sign of another car.

The black Ford had vanished.

Chapter Three

GORDON GILLIS looked up from his burger and fries. “Anything interesting?” he asked.

“Not a damn thing.” Sam hung his jacket up on the coatrack and sank into a chair behind his desk, where he sat wearily rubbing his face.

“How’s the minister doing?”

“Fine, so far. Doctors doubt it’s a heart attack. But they’ll keep him in for a day, just to be sure.”

“He didn’t have any ideas about the bombing?”

“Claims he has no enemies. And everyone I talked to seems to agree that Reverend Sullivan is a certifiable saint.” Groaning, Sam leaned back. “How ‘bout you?”

Gillis peeled off the hamburger wrapper and began to eat as he talked. “I interviewed the best man, the matron of honor and the florist. No one saw anything.”

“What about the church janitor?”

“We’re still trying to locate him. His wife says he usually gets home around six. I’ll send Cooley over to talk to him.”

“According to Reverend Sullivan, the janitor opens the front doors at 7:00 a.m. And the doors stay open all day. So anyone could’ve walked in and left a package.”