As if he were tailing her.

Which was ludicrous. Her imagination really was running wild.

Nonetheless, Kristi’s heart clutched. Every nerve in her body tightened. She told herself to let it go, but she couldn’t drag her gaze from the rearview mirror.

Was the guy in the van—if it was still the van, she wasn’t completely sure—was he the same person who had run the surveillance operation on her apartment?

Jay turned onto a final lane, a cul-de-sac, the street sign nearly shouting out the address that he’d written on the back of his business card, the one lying on the passenger seat.

She shot by. Barely braking.

The vehicle behind her stayed with her, didn’t peel off to follow Jay. “Who the hell are you?” she thought, and made certain all her doors were locked. She angled through the side streets of the neighborhood until she recognized one as being a major arterial. Turning left onto the two-way street, she checked her rearview mirror.

Sure enough, the big rig followed.

But it was more cautious now, blending into the increasing traffic. Her phone began to ring, but she ignored it. She had to concentrate. A half mile later, making certain the dark van was boxed between a Taurus and a Jeep, Kristi saw the light ahead turn amber.

Perfect.

Heart thudding, fingers clenched around the steering wheel in a death grip, she trod on the accelerator, reaching the intersection just as the light changed. It turned a blazing red just as she sped through.

The rest of the traffic stopped.

“You son of a bitch! Just keep coming!” she yelled jubilantly. Her cell phone started ringing again but she couldn’t get it. She had to concentrate, keep moving.

She blew past the first side street, and turned a quick corner at the second one, just as she noticed the stoplight, where the van was held up, changing again.

Damn!

He might try to cut her off. She took another right, spied a church parking lot and slid inside, killing her running lights and cutting a three-sixty in the empty lot, so that she was faced out, her foot off the brake, the car idling and partially blocked from view by an overgrown laurel hedge.

Sure enough, the van sped past, the driver, a dark blur.

Turning on her lights, she edged into the street. She saw the van turn the corner she’d taken less than three minutes earlier. “Bastard.” If she could get close enough to spy the numbers on his license plate, then she could have her father or Jay check with the DMV and nail the jerk.