VEDA

I kept my speed steady as I tried to think.

I could go to the police, but what would I say? "I'm being followed. I think. And it could be the guy who'd kept me prisoner in his beautiful lake house these last couple of months or his crazy brother who carved his initial into my chest. Most likely the latter. No, I'm not on drugs."

Well, there was one way to find out. One hand on the wheel, I took the piece of paper Enzo had given me out of my pocket and then felt around on the passenger seat until I found my new phone. Carefully, I...