No one answered.

The door murmured quietly, as someone opened it. Tears of relief flooded Jen's eyes at the sight of her dad's husky figure. She forced them back. "Thank goodness you're home," she said, willing the tremors from her voice. "I called the lab. I called Lani. I was afraid you'd had an accident or something."

Her father pressed a finger to her lips. "Shh, Jennifer. I'll explain on the way to Lani's."

"We're going to Lani's? Why?"

He took a deep breath, peeled back the curtains, and peered outside, as though he hadn't heard her. "Get Chopin, Jennifer. Let's go."

At the mention of his name, the Australian cattle dog leaped off the bed, padded to the door, halted, and looked back at his girl. His tongue drooped out the corner of his mouth as he waited patiently. Next to chasing cattle, riding in the pickup was Chopin's favorite thing to do. Five minutes later, Sam Barret drove his cranberry-red pickup, lights off, out the back entrance of the old Victorian house, where Jen had lived her whole life. He headed west, down a dark Texas back road, toward Lani's home in Saxet, the nearby town.

Inside the pickup, Jen scrunched against the seat, her fingers buried in Chopin's thick fur. Her dad was strong, dependable, always in control. What had happened to make him this tense, this nervous? "Why are we running to Lani's in the middle of the night?" she asked, confused.

"It's a long story, Jennifer. The less you know, the better." Her father shoved his glasses higher on his nose. "I'll tell you this much. I've run into some problems at the lab. Until they're solved, I want you to stay with Lani. She's expecting us."

Only once before had Jen seen her dad this uptight--after her brother's accident, years ago. She was more puzzled than ever. "Problems, Dad? What kind of problems? Did you grow a man-eating plant? Or shrink Dr. Morgan? Or turn your assistant into a pumpkin?"

Her father did not laugh at her futile attempt at humor. "I have reason to believe your life is in danger," he said thinly. "Trust me on this one. And, Jennifer, if anything happens to me... go to Lani. She'll explain."

Jen shivered. Why hadn't she grabbed her jacket? But it wasn't the cold that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. It was her dad's words-- if anything happened to him. Fear curled inside her. She reached over and touched his arm to reassure him. Or herself?

A red BMW zoomed past them. Jen leaned forward. "Dad, that was Mitch. He's on his way to the house. We have to go back."

"There isn't time. Once Mitch realizes we aren't home, he'll leave." Her dad glanced Jen's way. "You know how I feel about that boy, Jennifer. You spend too much time with him. He has a wild streak that's just asking for trouble. Stay away from him, before he hurts you."

"Mitch is my friend," she said in his defense. "He'd never hurt me. If you'd give him a chance--"

"He had his chance. End of discussion. My concern now is your safety."

Jen looked out the window. They'd had this discussion many times. Her dad had his reasons for disliking Mitch, and she understood, but she didn't have to agree. To the west, gray storm clouds were building. Lightning flashed. She clutched Chopin tightly.

"Safety from what?" she asked, not sure she wanted to know, asking nonetheless.

Before her dad could answer, a car came up behind them, fast, its headlights a glare in their rearview mirror. Without warning, the car rammed their rear bumper with a crackling jolt that popped Jen's head back. She let out a squeak, more in surprise than pain.

Her father gave her a quick look. "You all right?"

"I think so."

"Buckle your seat belt then, Jennifer, and hang on. We'll try to outrun him."

As soon as she was strapped in, her dad hunched over the steering wheel, gripping it so hard the bones in his hands pushed against his skin. His knuckles stretched white. He mashed the accelerator to the floorboard, and the pickup shot ahead.

The car kept pace, dangerously close. Suddenly, it whipped to the other side of the road, pulled even, and veered into the side of the truck.

With a jarring, tooth-grinding crunch, the vehicles collided. Jen bit her lip, tasted blood. Her hand flew to her mouth as she caught a glimpse of a silver Mercedes.

Metal screeched against metal.

Sparks flew.

Tires squealed.

The Mercedes swerved in again, sending the pickup skittering across the soft shoulder of the road, where it jumped an irrigation ditch, and came to rest in a field of winter wheat. Plumes of dust billowed up around the truck, like smoke from a prairie fire. The Mercedes parked a short distance in front of them. The door on the driver's side opened.

Jen's father fumbled in his shirt pocket, pulled out a crinkled candy wrapper, and scribbled some numbers on it. He folded the paper into her hand. "Get to a phone," he said. "Call this number. If no one answers, call Lani." He kissed her on the forehead, leaned across the seat, and pushed open the door. "Now get out of here."

"What about you?"

"Don't worry about me. Get help. And don't look back. No matter what. Understand?"

"No, but I'll go." She stuffed the candy wrapper in her pocket and slipped out into the night. Taking a deep breath, she glanced around to get her bearings. The cutoff to the Pearson ranch, where Mitch lived with his parents, was only a couple miles ahead. With her heart in her throat, she moved in that direction.

The road stretched before Jen, dark, lonely, endless. In the distance, a coyote yapped. Goose bumps dotted her arms. She talked to herself to ease her fear. "Be brave, Jen. You're too old to be afraid of the dark. Dad's depending on you. Don't let him down, the way you have in the past."

Steel-gray clouds drifted across the sky, covering the stars like a veil. In spite of her father's warning, she paused and glanced back. He was out of the pickup now, talking to a man, or arguing, it appeared. She squinted to see the man more clearly, but shadows hid his face. To her horror, the man hit her father over the head with some object she couldn't make out, and then shoved him into the car. She jammed her fist in her mouth to stifle a scream, and the man turned in her direction, as though he'd heard her muffled cry.

She turned and ran.