Steam poured out of the car hood like smoke from a dragon.
Amelia pulled over to the side of the empty road and turned off the engine. Her hands were shaking so hard she could barely hold the steering wheel. She had been driving for three hours, trying to escape the reporters outside her house.
The baseball cap felt tight on her head. Sunglasses covered her red, swollen eyes. She looked like a different person, but she still felt like a trapped animal.
Her phone had been buzzing non-stop in the passenger seat. Fifty-seven missed calls. She stopped counting the text messages at one hundred.
"Perfect," she whispered to herself. "Just perfect."
She got out and opened the hood. Hot steam hit her face like a slap. She didn't know much about cars, but she knew this was bad. Really bad.
A sign down the road caught her attention: "Stevens Auto Repair - 1/4 Mile." The letters were faded and crooked, but it was her only hope.
Amelia grabbed her purse and started walking. Every step felt heavy like she was walking through mud. The last two days had been the worst of her entire life. Everything she worked for was disappearing like water through a broken cup.
The garage sat at the end of a gravel driveway. It was small and simple. Nothing like the fancy places she usually went. But right now, she didn't care if it was perfect. She just needed help.
A man was working under the hood of a truck. All she could see were his legs and dirty work boots. Classic rock music played from a radio somewhere inside the building.
"Excuse me?" Amelia called out, trying to make her voice sound different. "Are you open?"
The man slid out from under the truck. He was covered in grease and motor oil. When he looked at her, something strange flashed across his face. Like he had seen a ghost.
"Yeah, we're open," he said carefully. "What can I do for you?"
"My car broke down about a quarter mile back. Steam coming out everywhere."
He wiped his hands on a dirty towel. "Sounds like your radiator. I can take a look if you want."
"That would be great. Thank you."
The man walked to an old pickup truck parked behind the garage. "Hop in. I'll give you a ride back to your car."
During the short drive, Amelia kept her head down. She didn't want him to recognize her face. But she could feel him glancing at her in the mirror.
"I'm Richard, by the way," he said.
"Jane," Amelia lied quickly. "Jane Smith."
"Nice to meet you, Jane."
Something about the way he said her fake name made her think he knew it wasn't real. But he didn't push her about it.
They reached her car, and Richard popped the hood. He looked inside for about thirty seconds.
"Yep, radiator's blown. Coolant is everywhere. You've been driving pretty hard, haven't you?"
Amelia's cheeks turned red. "I've been traveling a lot lately."
"Running from something?" The question came out so quietly she almost didn't hear it.
Her heart started beating faster. "What do you mean?"
"Nothing. Just asking." Richard closed the hood. "I can fix this, but it'll take a few hours. You got somewhere to wait?"
Amelia looked around at the empty road. There was nothing for miles. No restaurants, no stores, no places to hide from the world.
"Not really."
"You can wait at my garage. I've got coffee and snacks. It's not fancy, but it's quiet."
Quiet. That sounded like heaven right now.
"Okay," she agreed.
Richard used a tow rope to pull her car back to his garage. The whole time, Amelia felt like he was studying her in his rearview mirror. Did he know who she was? Was he going to call the reporters?
At the garage, Richard got to work on her car right away. Amelia sat in a plastic chair and tried to relax. The coffee was strong and hot. For the first time in days, no one was yelling at her or taking her picture.
"So, Jane," Richard said from under her car hood, "what kind of work do you do?"
Amelia's stomach jumped. "I'm between jobs right now."
"Tough time to be looking for work."
"Yeah. Really tough."
Richard worked in silence for a while. Amelia watched him move around her engine. He knew exactly what he was doing. His hands were gentle but sure, like he was healing something instead of just fixing it.
"You know," Richard said without looking up, "I had a friend once who was running from something. She never told me what it was, but I could always tell she was scared."
Amelia's coffee cup froze halfway to her lips. "What happened to her?"
"She disappeared one day. I always wondered if she got away from whatever was chasing her." Richard glanced up at Amelia. "I hope she did."
Their eyes met for just a second. In that moment, Amelia was sure he knew who she was. But instead of fear, she saw something else in his eyes. Understanding. Maybe even kindness.
Her phone buzzed with a text message. She looked at it without thinking.
"Amy, we know you're running. It won't work. Come home and face the truth."
Amelia gasped and dropped her phone. It clattered on the concrete floor.
Richard stopped working and looked at the phone. The message was still showing on the screen. He could see her real name.
"Amy," he said quietly. "Amy Grant."
There was no point in lying anymore. "You remember me."
"I remember everything." Richard stood up and wiped his hands. "Including the fact that you never did anything mean to anybody in your whole life."
Tears started running down Amelia's face. Someone believed her. After two days of everyone thinking she was a monster, one person still knew the real her.
"Richard, I'm in so much trouble. That video isn't real, but everyone thinks it is."
"I know."
"The police searched my house. My record label wants to drop me. My own boyfriend thinks I'm lying."
"But I don't."
Those three words meant more to Amelia than all the awards she had ever won.
Richard picked up her phone and handed it back to her. "Who's been sending you these messages?"
"I don't know. Someone who wants to destroy my life."
"Why?"
"I have no idea."
Richard looked at her car, then back at her. "Amy, I need to tell you something. Someone contacted me yesterday. They knew we were friends fifteen years ago. They threatened my mom if I didn't meet them."
Amelia felt like ice water was running through her veins. "You can't meet them. It's too dangerous."
"But what if they have answers? What if they know who's doing this to you?"
Before Amelia could respond, both of their phones started ringing at the same time. The sound was loud and scary in the quiet garage.
Richard answered first. "Hello?"
His face went white. "What? When?" He hung up quickly.
"What's wrong?" Amelia asked.
"That was the hospital. Someone broke into my mom's room. They left a message on her pillow."
"What kind of message?"
Richard's hands were shaking now. "It said, 'Richard has something that belongs to us. Tell him to bring it to the bridge tonight, or Amy Grant won't be the only one in trouble.'"
Amelia felt the world spinning around her. "They know I'm here."
"They've been watching us the whole time."
"What do I have that they want?" Amelia asked. "I don't understand any of this!"
Richard looked at her with worried eyes. "Amy, what did you take with you when you left town fifteen years ago?"
"Nothing. Just some clothes and..."
She stopped talking. Her face went pale.
"And what?"
"My notebook. The one where I wrote all my songs. But also..." Her voice got smaller. "Also where I wrote down things I overheard. Things about the music business. Things that didn't seem right."
Richard stared at her. "You still have it?"
"It's hidden in my house. In a place nobody knows about."
"Amy, I think that notebook is the reason someone wants to destroy you."
"But I was just a kid then. I didn't understand what any of it meant."
"Maybe you understood more than you think."
Amelia's phone rang again. This time, the caller ID said "Unknown."
She answered it with shaking hands.
"Hello?"
"Amy Grant. You have six hours to bring us the notebook. If you don't, Richard's mother dies tonight."
The line went dead.
Amelia looked at Richard with terror in her eyes.
"They want my notebook. And they're going to kill your mom if I don't give it to them."