Pit Stop Read Online Free PDF Page B

Kristoff’s erratic steering.
    Kristoff took his right hand off his face long enough to make a wild, retaliatory swing in Kelly’s direction, but she had pushed herself up against the door, out of reach, and was thinking about whether to hop over the seat and hide in the narrow space behind them. But she decided against that, figuring that if the truck came to a stop, or even slowed, she needed to be by the door so she could hop out.
    Indeed, the truck was slowing. Kristoff had taken his foot off the gas. And given that the truck was heading up a slight grade, it was going to lose speed even more quickly. He hadn’t hit the brake yet, but he couldn’t keep up his recent pace when he couldn’t see where he was going.
    After another couple of futile swings at Kelly, the man put his hand back to his face, but then he realized the wounds hurt too much to touch. His right eye remained closed.
    He screamed: “You blinded me! You fried my eye, you little bitch!”
    Kelly was probably more scared right now than she’d ever been in her life—even more than when that man threatened her a few years ago—but she also felt pretty good. For half a second, she’d wondered whether she’d get in trouble for making a man lose one of his eyes, but then thought her dad would probably be okay with it.
    He could be pretty cool about things.
    She glanced back through the window, saw the police car still there. Waved at her dad again as the truck lurched from left to right.
    Then she heard the familiar sound of gravel under the tires. She whirled around, saw that they were veering off the pavementonto the shoulder. Kristoff had his foot on the brake. He hung his head low, moved it languidly back and forth, trying to deal with the pain.
    When the truck was nearly stopped, Kelly pulled on the door handle, let the door swing wide, and jumped.

    â€œKELLY!”
    Glen Garber screamed when he saw his daughter leap from the passenger’s door of the nearly stopped truck. He bolted from the police cruiser before Reilly had thrown it into park.
    Kelly landed in the tall grasses just beyond the shoulder. Her knees buckled, forcing her into a roll, her body tumbling out of view.
    Glen ran. “Kelly! Kelly!”
    Before he could get to her, her head popped up above the grass. An arm went into the air. “Here!”
    Behind him, Garber heard Reilly shout at the top of his lungs: “Run!”

    IT WASN’T THAT REILLY DIDN’T care about Garber and his kid, but he had a more pressing matter to deal with.
    Like the man he knew as Faustus, who had thrown open the driver’s door of the pickup and was stumbling out. But not before reaching for something on the floor ahead of the seat. He emerged, standing there a couple of steps in front of the open door, clutching the cylinder. Raising it above his head.
    Whoa.
    Reilly didn’t know what the hell had happened in that truck, but half of the man’s face was red and blotchy and blistered andsome of the skin looked like it was ready to fall off. His right eye was shut.
    Reilly told Garber and his daughter to run.
    â€œI’ll do it!” the man yelled. “I’ll smash it right into the road! I’ll crack this thing wide open. You want that?”
    Reilly raised an unthreatening palm.
    â€œCome on,” the FBI agent said. “You’ll take yourself out, too. You’ll never have the fun of seeing your handiwork.”
    â€œDoesn’t much matter now,” he said.
    Behind them, other motorists on the highway slowed. A couple honked their horns.
    Reilly ignored them, instead staying focused on Faustus. He couldn’t stop himself from asking, “What the hell happened to your face?”
    â€œHot coffee,” Faustus said. “Maybe I’ll sue.”
    Reilly noticed that the truck was moving, ever so gradually. They’d all stopped on a very slight, uphill grade, and the Ford was starting to roll