For the second time Nancy peeked at the rearview mirror and saw the red sports car still behind her. What the hell. She’d driven her beat-up Ford truck down the whole length of the North Conway thoroughfare before she realized the car was following her. It mimicked her every move, from lane switches to running a red light. Her stomach lurched and a bead of sweat broke out on her brow. Nancy gripped the steering wheel tighter.
For the past fifteen or so miles, it stayed two car lengths behind. Nancy couldn’t make out the driver; it was to dark to see anyone distinguishable. ‘Prolly just kids playing around. She switched lanes again. A glance in the mirror showed the red car did too. When the car behind inched closer, Nancy’s heart skipped a beat. Instinctively she pressed on the accelerator pedal and her rattling old truck sped up, as did the car behind her.
She should pull over, but where? Everything’s closed. It was after two in the morning. Dammit, she didn’t need juvenile games right now. Exhausted physically and mentally she should’ve already been home. The ICU ward had been quiet all night but right at the end of her shift a patient had gone bad. Which sucked as she had to stay until the patient was stabilized then give notes to the next nurse. It was one thirty before she walked out of the hospital and jumped into the truck, now she had to deal with this sonofabitchin stalker behind her.