The Cemetery Club was my first book in the Darcy and Flora, mother and daughter series. One of their most frightening episodes was when they took the fast way down Deertrack Hill. Darcy and Flora were driving east toward Fayetteville during a rainstorm. The highway was deserted, or so they thought.
As we crossed the Ventris River Bridge, rain came down harder. Switching my wiper speed to “fast,” I made sure the headlights were on. Driving in rain was never fun and the oily surface of the highway could become slick when wet. I didn’t want to hydroplane. However, to me, a dangerous road was much more preferable to the man-made threat that surrounded us in Levi.
We both lapsed into thoughtfulness. The regular slap-slap of the wipers had a lulling effect and the rain seemed to be a curtain, shutting us off from the rest of the world. The shower, however, was increasing to a downpour and I slowed even more.
Mom must have been concerned about road conditions too. “You know Deertrack Hill is coming up,” she cautioned. “That hill is treacherous enough in good weather.”
“My thoughts exactly,” I answered.
“The highway department installed a heavy-duty guardrail a while back, but I don’t want us to be the ones to test it. This is not the time to mention it, but you do remember that a few people have rolled off that hill, don’t you?”
Evidently, her euphoria of the early morning was evaporating. Driving in rain did nothing to help my nerves either.
Lightning cut a jagged path across the sky in front of us. I strained to see through the torrent pelting the Passport. Even with the wipers turned to high, the rain obscured my vision.
When I noticed fuzzy headlights in my rearview mirror, I felt a sense of relief.
“I guess we aren’t the only goofy people out for a drive today,” I said.
Mom craned her neck to look behind us. “That car must have pulled in from one of the side roads because I didn’t notice anyone following us out of Levi.”
“The driver is surer of the road than I am,” I said, noting the speed the car was traveling. “Seems to me he’s driving too fast. He’s coming up behind us pretty quickly.”
When I let up on the accelerator, the other driver did the same. A cold finger of fear traced its way down my spine.
I increased my speed. Our follower increased his speed. Trying to keep my voice steady, I said, “My cell phone, Mom. Get it out of my purse and punch in 911.”
Mom fumbled through my purse and flicked open the phone. She groaned. “Darcy, the battery is dead.”
The headlights following us which, at first, had seemed friendly, now seemed ominous and threatening.
Mom twisted around to look behind us again. “Oh, no, Darcy It’s coming too fast. It’s going to hit us.”
The big car nudged my back bumper. Mom cried, “Oh, my Lord, help us!”
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