The road stretched out in gray silence, a ribbon of cracked asphalt slicing through dead fields and leafless trees. My hands stayed locked on the wheel, knuckles pale, eyes darting to the rearview mirror more often than necessary.
At first, I told myself it was a habit I’d been shadowed before, paranoia never really left you. But twenty minutes into the drive, when that same dull-gray sedan reappeared behind me after I thought I’d shaken it off behind a lumbering delivery truck, the prickle along my neck sharpened.
Coincidence, I muttered under my breath. Not every car was a tail, not every stranger cared who I was but yet my fingers betrayed me tapping restlessly against the steering wheel.
I kept driving, pushing past neighborhoods that dissolved into barren farmland. The address scra
