Free Last Breath by Diane Hoh Page A

Cassidy fumbled in her purse. She had one terrible, agonizing moment of dread when she remembered that she had switched purses for the party but couldn’t remember whether or not she had switched her inhaler as well.
    She had. An enormous sense of relief filled her as her fingers wound around the life-saving device. Gasping for breath, she yanked it from her purse, sending it directly to her mouth.
    The epinephrine worked. She was still shaky from the blow to her midsection and the ensuing fall, but at least she was breathing again.
    She wanted nothing more than to sink to the ground and sit on the grass for a while, until she felt one hundred percent again. But the TransAm was out there, somewhere, and could come back. Thoroughly frightened now of the black car and its unseen driver, she didn’t dare wait by the side of the road.
    As she began walking again, the inhaler still in her hand, she spotted the lights of Burgers Etc., the long, silver diner across the road from campus. She could take refuge there. There would be people inside from school. Even if they weren’t people she knew, she’d wait and walk across the highway with them. The car wouldn’t attack her if she wasn’t alone.
    She couldn’t run. Her chest still ached and she was sore all over from her encounter with the car. But she walked as fast as she could, and breathed a huge sigh of relief when she opened the door to the diner and hurried inside.
    It was bright and cheerful, warm and welcoming, as always. But nearly deserted. Too early for a crowd. She slipped into a booth at the back, where she felt safe.
    “You don’t look so good,” the waiter who brought her a glass of water said. “You okay?”
    No, she wasn’t okay. Not at all. She was so scared, her insides were quaking. The car could come back, looking for her. “I’m okay,” she lied and ordered hot coffee.
    She didn’t recognize any of the half dozen students in the diner. But she felt warm and safe and the coffee was delicious. No reason why she couldn’t just sit here and wait for someone she knew to come in. They would, eventually. It was Friday night. By that time, this ridiculous trembling might have stopped. And she might have stopped thinking that every ear pulling into the parking lot was a black TransAm with tinted window glass.
    Three more people came in before the door swung open and someone she knew entered the diner. Someone she knew very well. Or had known very well.
    Travis Loyola McVey.
    He came in alone. Cassidy watched and waited for a few seconds, expecting Ann Ataska to be right behind him. But she wasn’t. Travis really was alone.
    Her arm seemed to raise up into the air all by itself, as if it had a mind of its own. It was waving to Travis, signalling to him to join her.
    When he saw the motion, which he clearly hadn’t expected, he glanced over his shoulder to see if there was someone behind him she might be waving to. There wasn’t. He hesitated, and then, shrugging, moved down the narrow aisle toward her booth.
    They hadn’t been alone since their argument. They had, of course, seen each other. It wasn’t that big a campus, and Travis was in her psych class, on the dance committee, and in the Hike and Bike Club. But there had always been other people around.
    He echoed the waiter’s statement as he slid into the seat. “You look kind of weird. How come you’re in here all alone? Where’s Duncan?”
    “Sawyer had to study.” Cassidy hesitated, not knowing how much to tell him, if anything. If she told him about the car, which she really, desperately needed to tell someone, he’d ask her what she was doing walking alone on the highway, and then she’d have to tell him about the party-that-wasn’t. Too mortifying. Anyway, if she was going to tell anyone, it really should be Sawyer.
    It should be.
    But Sawyer wasn’t here. And Travis was.
    “There’s this car…” she began.
    When she had finished, Travis shook his head. Several dark curls fell