She thought about the sicko who got off watching her, as she followed Jay’s truck through the rain-washed streets. Had the pervert watched Tara? Had he learned her routine and plotted her abduction, all with the help of his little camera? Did he have tapes of the other missing girls? Did he keep those tapes for his personal use, his twisted enjoyment, or, worse yet, had he made them public, placed them on the Internet?

If he was into this depraved videotaping, could it be even worse? Could he have films of the girls’ abductions? Their abuse? Even their murders?

Dear God, she hoped not. Her fingers tightened over the steering wheel as she attempted to rein in her imagination. “Don’t borrow trouble,” she warned herself.

And besides, she had no basis for these runaway thoughts. If the missing girls had shown up on the Internet, wouldn’t someone at the college have seen them by now? Recognized them? Surely the police and campus security had searched the World Wide Web.

Taillights flashed ahead.

Jay’s truck stopped at the light.

Lost in her reverie, Kristi had to slam on her brakes. Her Honda skidded, tires squealing. Antilock brakes grabbed, released, grabbed again. She braced herself, ready for the impact and shriek of twisting metal.

Her hatchback’s nose stopped less than an inch from the Toyota’s bumper.

“Oh, God.” She let out her breath, then gasped at the screech of tires behind her. Glancing fearfully in the rearview mirror, she helplessly watched a big van shimmy and slide, narrowly avoiding smashing into her.

Kristi exhaled slowly, her heart pounding. Jay, his silhouette visible to her, looked up. She lifted her hands, palms upward, to acknowledge that she’d been an idiot. She hoped the guy in the van who had barely missed hitting her witnessed her silent apology as well.

“Concentrate,” she told herself as rain pummeled the windshield and the wipers struggled to keep up. She had to pay better attention. The roads were slick with rain, the clouds dark and close, the day gloomy and winter-dark.

The stoplight switched to green. Jay eased into the intersection and Kristi followed carefully. She tried her best to keep her mind on the surrounding traffic and road ahead, but the truth of the matter was that her thoughts were elsewhere. Someone had broken into and wired her apartment. Watched her. Videotaped her. Her skin crawled as she imagined him getting off on watching her undress, or sleep or shower or make love to Jay.

“Bastard,” she muttered as she drove through the city, her wipers struggling with the rain. “You’ll get yours,” she added, following Jay onto a side street. The car behind her, only visible as headlights through the rain, made the turn as well.

It was the same dark van that had nearly slammed into her.

Right?

Another turn.

The vehicle lagged behind.

But eventually the headlights swung in behind her.