But we don’t roll. The truck tips, then shudders, and finally comes to a stop after spinning a quarter turn. Smoke from my tires drifts through the air around us, filling my nose with the stench of burned rubber. Every muscle in my body is contracted, and I can already tell that I’m going to have some kind of bruise where my body’s been thrown against the seat belt.

There’s no sign of the black car. It’s disappeared around the curve.

“Are you okay?” I ask Sarah, who looks at me and nods. Her hair’s been thrown over her face, and her eyes are wide. She wriggles a little, and I realize I’ve got a viselike grip on her. I let her go. My fingers feel stiff.

I put the truck into park and start to shake a little, adrenaline rushing through me.

Ahead of us, the black car appears, stopped at the head of the curve in the road.

“Mark,” Sarah says. “Get us out of here.”

And then there’s smoke coming from the car’s wheels as it peels out. It careens straight for the passenger side of my truck.

I flip the truck into reverse to try and get us off the road, but I’m too slow. There’s no way we’re getting out of the way in time.

And then, at the last second, the car swerves to the right and misses us completely, then continues to barrel down the deserted road as I stomp on the gas and back up as fast as possible. I end up slamming into a thin, tall tree. It falls over with a crack. Splintering.

We watch as the car disappears from sight again, this time miles and miles away. I’m breathing like I’ve just played the most intense scrimmage of my life. Sarah’s hands are shaking.

“What the fuck was that?” I ask.

“I think that means we were poking around where we weren’t supposed to.”

“That car just tried to kill us.”

“No,” Sarah says, shaking her head. “It was just trying to scare us. To warn us about what would happen if we keep digging. If we get more involved.”

I glance at the clock. The period after lunch is starting in Helena. Shakily, I put the truck in gear and head towards our new school. There’s nothing else for us in Paradise right now.

CHAPTER TWELVE

MY DAD’S ALREADY HOME BY THE TIME I GET back from school that night, which is strange, because he’s recently been getting home about an hour after I do. I back my truck around the side of the house—there’s a good-size dent in my bumper and some scraped paint on my tailgate that I’d like to hide from him as long as possible. Stupid tree.