Pushed to the Limit (Quid Pro Quo 1)

by Patricia Rosemoor

WIPERS SLAPPED at the shower flooding the windshield. Waiting for the weather to clear had been a waste of time. Rain came in fits and spurts, not enough to flood the road but enough to be annoying. Benno figured they should have headed back to Stone Beach instead of having that drink. They’d nursed them for a half hour in hopes the storm might blow over. In the end, he’d had to call Poppy to ask her to open up the pub. Now the sky had gone from gray to near black and fog was rising from the wet ground.

  “Why would an absolute stranger be out to destroy me?” Sydney was muttering again as if he was supposed to come up with the answer. “Why would he marry me and why use Kenneth Lord’s name and then kill him?”

  They’d mulled over the situation since she’d shown him the clipping, but they had come to no logical conclusions. It was hard to pin a motive on a stranger.

  “Maybe you were both intended victims,” Benno offered, though that sounded pretty lame even to him. The situation was too puzzling, a case for a top detective. He should suggest hiring one.

  “But what could I possibly have done to make myself the target of someone’s sick desire for revenge?”

  “The ad campaign?” That was a natural guess based on the newspaper clipping. “Maybe Fox isn’t exactly a stranger. “What if he was a competitor and you stole his account and ruined his reputation or made him go broke?”

  She shook her head. “Flawless was a new product line. We’d had the parent company’s account forever. I can’t believe a ticked off ad exec would go to this extreme over losing an account. Besides, that was what – three years ago?”

  “I’ve heard you have to be crazy to be in advertising.” Realizing he was clumping Sydney with the rest, he said, “Uh, sorry.”

  “No offense taken.”

  Benno wondered when she took refuge in silence and stared out the side window. The road to Stone Beach was a two-later except for the exit approaches where it broadened for a short stretch. And it wound along the coast, normally giving an occasional glimpse of beach and sea. Not tonight. Benno flicked on his brights to cut through the dense fog. Glancing up into his rear view mirror, he noticed the car behind him had done the same.

  He averted his eyes from the mirror. He would have to concentrate if he wanted to stay on the road.

  But his mind wasn’t cooperating. It kept straying back to the question: Who other than a crazy person would have kept that clipping for years? Visualizing the photo, he thought about the stunning actress who’d posed with Sydney.

  “What about Honor Bright?” Benno asked. “Maybe something strange has been happening to her, too. I don’t remember seeing her face lately.”

  “She’s not in the mainstream anymore,” Sydney told him. “She’s living in Seattle, acting as spokesperson for the salmon industry. I gave her a lead on the job about a year ago. She sent me a thank you card, but we haven’t been in touch since. I guess I could find her if I tried.”

  Though Honor wasn’t a likely lead, Benno thought. Still, they couldn’t afford to let anything slip by them. Finding the newspaper clipping had blown a hole through his theory that the revenge had been aimed at him, that Parnell Anderson had been responsible. Thank God.

  When they got Sydney free of this mess, she wouldn’t have that reason to turn away from him.

  He didn’t want to give her any reason, Benno thought, remembering the kiss. Sydney had probably turned to him out of distress, to be comforted, but he’d had different reasons.

  He was falling for Sydney and couldn’t quite say why. What put her above other women he’d been interested in over the past several years, many more beautiful and self-possessed than she? He hadn’t even known her long enough to form a relationship. He could only think their common experience – running away from a painful background – was now drawing them together. Not that their circumstances had been in the least similar. He could hardly compare his hand-to-mouth existence with that of a judge’s daughter. Yet as surely as he had left his past behind, so had Sydney.

  But now both their pasts were confronting them.

  Brights flicking in his rear view mirror caught Benno’s attention. The driver behind him wanted to pass, and they were on an extended curve. Noting an advance sign indicating the exit to the state park was just ahead, he turned on his signal. He’d pull over to the right where the road widened.

  But before he could do so, the other car picked up speed, the brights looming large in his mirror.

  He squinted to protect his vision. “Damn fool, give me a minute.”

  Sydney stirred in her seat. “What’s going on?”

  Benno speeded up. “Road hog in a hurry.” The road widened and he pulled to the right.

  The other car did the same.

  Irritated, Benno pulled back to the left. The lights in the mirror came with. Either some jerk was playing games or...

  “I think we’re being followed.”

  “What?” Sydney turned in her seat to see. “My God, he’s so close.”

  Even as she said the words, Benno swerved to the right barely in time to make the exit; the other car stayed on his tail.

  He thought quickly. The entrance to the state park north of town was directly ahead. A road wound uphill, eventually splitting, the right fork going to an overlook, the left fork joining a lower road skirting the beach. He didn’t like his choices, but stopping in the middle of nowhere to face an unknown, possibly armed pursuer wasn’t an option he was willing to consider.

  “Hold on,” he said grimly. “I’m going to try to lose him.”

  “It’s Fox, isn’t it?”

  Benno didn’t answer, merely stepped on the gas and shot into the state park. He was trying to get a good lead on the other car before getting to the fork. Maybe he could elude Al Fox or whoever was following them.

  The incline dropped off steeply on either side. While the rain had stopped, the fog had thickened to the consistency of a gray-white soup. He was nearly driving blind and hoped that nothing, or no one, would suddenly appear on the road or they would all be goners.

  His plan was working. Slowly but surely, the other car was falling behind.

  Hoping memory would serve him, Benno stepped on the gas halfway through a hairpin curve and pulled the wheel sharply to the left. The next curve was gentler and to the right. They were approaching the fork, and for the moment, the lights of the other car had disappeared altogether.

  “He’s gone,” Sydney said with a sigh of relief.

  “Don’t fool yourself. He’s only slowed because he doesn’t know the road.” Benno took the left fork and they began a gentler sweeping descent. “Let’s hope he guesses wrong and heads for the overlook.”

  “You seem to know this road well enough to drive it in your sleep.”

  Benno didn’t think there was any harm in telling her why. “When I was in high school, we used to use these roads as a race course till the cops caught us once too often.”

  “So you were a wild one.”

  A confirmation rather than a question. If only she knew how wild, she might not be sitting next to him. Not that he was proud of the fact. That was part of the reason he’d been avoiding telling her about his past. But evasion was hard work. He knew he couldn’t maintain his “good guy” camouflage forever.

  “Benno, he guessed right. I see his lights.”

  Checking his rear view mirror, Benno cursed softly. “Damn.”

  He’d inadvertently let up on the accelerator when he should have increased his speed. This stretch of the road was easier to travel, but when they reached the bottom of the incline, only one route now remained which might allow him to lose the other car. He had no choice.

  “We’re going to have to cross the beach.”

  “In this fog?”

  “Do you have a better idea?”

  She didn’t answer, merely continued to watch out the back window as he turned the Thunderbird onto a road separated from the sand by a cement retaining wall.

  Though d
riving a car on this end of the beach was legal as was true along most of Oregon’s coastline, the stretch fronting the town limits was an exception. In addition, bringing a car that far south was dangerous. The unrelenting ocean had broken off chunks of sea stacks over the years, depositing the boulders near the water’s edge.

  “He’s gaining on us,” Sydney told him as they approached a break in the retaining wall.

  “Hold on.”

  Praying his car would make it, Benno swerved onto the beach. Now if only it hadn’t rained enough to turn the sand into a shifting morass. The Thunderbird flew over the two foot drop and landed with a teeth jarring jolt. Benno let his foot off the accelerator. The tires bit into the wet sand and found traction. He didn’t dare go too fast lest the spinning wheels dig them into an early grave.

  Now if only the other driver would be less cautious.

  But the lights in the mirror told him the other man was taking his lead and following carefully. Eventually, they would run out of beach. Then what? There was no other road at the sound end. Only cliff. They would have to abandon the car and make a run for it when they neared the center of town.

  Resolved to get them to safety, Benno edged his speed more than made him comfortable.

  He glanced at Sydney to see how she was doing.

  One hand clutched the dash for support as she kept silent watch; she seemed to be holding up well. He faced forward, but the seconds of diverted attention proved long enough for potential disaster. Before them lay a yellow hulk, an abandoned beach trike. He braked and swerved, but hit the trike a glancing blow.

  The Thunderbird’s wheels dug into the sand and began to spin.

  “Get out,” he yelled at Sydney, even as he cut the engine and lights. “We have to run for it.” He opened his door and flew out of the car. Seeing that Sydney was struggling with her purse, he swore. “Leave the damn thing.”

  “No. The evidence.” With a jerk, she pulled the bag free. Slamming the door, she hurried to the front of the car. “Which way?”

  Benno grabbed her hand and flinched at the screech of brakes behind them.

  “Come on, run.”

  He practically jerked her arm out of its socket and pulled her off her feet before she found the power to keep up with him. If only he could see something, be able to identify exactly where they were. They were running blind.

  Suddenly, a shot pierced the night.

  “Oh, God,” Sydney sobbed. “He does have a gun.”

  Another gunshot made Benno lurch to the side. Pain, hot and searing, numbed his arm.