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stop signs or red lights to run. He just wanted to jerk her around.
    She turned her head toward Officer Delamore as he bent down to the open window. Before she realized what was happening, he’d reached through the win dow and grabbed her arm with one hand and opened the door with the other. He held her tight through the window as the door swung open. Diane reached be hind her, feeling for her cell phone in the center con sole. She got her fingers on it, but he jerked her hard toward the open door and she dropped it.
    ‘‘Well, if it’s not the bitch who messed up my life.’’ His voice was a snarl and his face was twisted in some kind of weird satisfied rage.
    She was pissed herself. ‘‘What the hell are you doing?’’ Diane screamed at him. ‘‘Have you gone nuts?’’ That reprimand was a year ago. What had set him off now? she wondered.
    ‘‘Shut up, bitch.’’
    Harve reached inside the open door and dragged her out of the vehicle. Her cell phone clattered to the pavement. He looked down at it, smirked, and ground his foot onto the top of it.
    ‘‘Uh-oh, no signal,’’ he said.
    Diane loved this road because she was usually the only one on it. Now she prayed for someone to drive by. But no one did. She was alone.
    ‘‘Harve, think about what you’re doing. This will ruin you,’’ said Diane.
‘‘I told you to shut up, you damn stupid bitch. You’re going to get what’s coming to you.’’
He had her by her left arm, which meant she had one arm and two legs free. She put them to good use. She kicked his shin hard, kneed him in the groin, and rammed the palm of her right hand into his nose with all the strength she could summon. He didn’t see it coming. He was stunned and let go, and she jerked away. She had been lucky. She’d caught him off guard. It wouldn’t happen again. She had to get away from him.
He was blocking access back into her SUV, so she had to run. She sprinted for the woods, thinking maybe it was a mistake even as she did it. On the one hand, someone might drive by and see her if she ran down the road. On the other hand, he would just run her down with his car.
Harve Delamore was a big guy, but he was all show muscle and not much real working muscle. That would be helpful if she were male. But show muscle or not, testosterone in the male gives muscles a spectacular ad vantage. Harve was stronger by far than she was. But she had stamina, and she could run. Which she did—as fast as she could. Diane could run long distances, and she had another advantage. She knew these woods.
There was one big problem in all that optimism. Harve had a gun. She thought he would be reluctant to shoot her, though; he wanted to hit her. She saw it in his eyes when he held her. He wanted to pound his meaty fist into her face. So maybe he wouldn’t use his gun.
She was in the air, jumping over a fallen tree, when the gunshot roared in her ears. In the same instant, pieces of bark flew off a tree to her right. He was trying to scare her. Or else he was a really bad shot. Right now, either one would do, as long as she could keep running.
It was hard to shoot a moving target in these woods— lots of trees to get in the way. But she had a serious problem. Males run fast for short distances, and she didn’t have enough of a head start. Diane ran faster. She heard the sound of him gaining on her: heavy foot falls, limbs breaking, grunts and curses. She pushed her self to the limit.
He was close behind her. His breathing was heavy. He was getting out of breath. Good. She tried a sharp turn to throw him off balance, slow him down. It didn’t work. He knocked her to the ground, then pulled her up by her arm, breathing hard. He had his gun in his hand. He laid the barrel against her temple.
‘‘I’ve got you now, bitch, and there’s no help. This is a dead end for you.’’
Diane kicked and hit at him as he dragged her through the woods. He turned abruptly and hit the side of her head with the