Книга - No One To Trust

No One To Trust
Melody Carlson


DANGER IN THE DUNESIn a deserted area of a beach town, Leah Hampton is helpless against the stranger trying to drag her away at gunpoint. But a handsome man comes to her rescue, risking his life for her. Suddenly, she and Jon Wilson are being hunted by very powerful, dangerous people. Why? Could she have been a target for the human trafficking ring that Jon’s mother suspects is taking over the tiny town? Leah and the brave, love-shy man who saved her are now being framed for their pursuer’s crimes. Hiding out among the fog-shrouded dunes, Leah and Jon must outsmart the ringleader before they’re silenced forever.







DANGER IN THE DUNES

In a deserted area of a beach town, Leah Hampton is helpless against the stranger trying to drag her away at gunpoint. But a handsome man comes to her rescue, risking his life for her. Suddenly, she and Jon Wilson are being hunted by very powerful, dangerous people. Why? Could she have been a target for the human trafficking ring that Jon’s mother suspects is taking over the tiny town? Leah and the brave, love-shy man who saved her are now being framed for their pursuer’s crimes. Hiding out among the fog-shrouded dunes, Leah and Jon must outsmart the ringleader before they’re silenced forever.


The guy had a gun trained on the woman Jon had seen earlier.

“Call off that dog!” the man screamed at Jon.

“Come here, boy,” Jon said with authority. His tail between his legs, Ralph slowly approached and Jon scooped him up. The little dog’s body was tense, as if on high alert, as if something was still very wrong.

“Now get outta here!” the guy yelled, waving his weapon.

The frightened woman watched Jon with a tear-streaked face. He knew he needed to do something—but what?

“I warned you!” The man looked flustered and agitated—as if trying to make up his mind. Probably deciding which one of them to shoot next.

In that same split second, Jon looked at the woman and made his decision. “Run!” he yelled at her.

As the man with the gun turned to the woman, Jon sprang at him and knocked him flat onto the graveled road, making the revolver fly from his hand.

“Run for your life!” Jon yelled at her.


MELODY CARLSON has worn many hats, from preschool teacher to political activist to senior editor. But most of all, she loves to write! She has published over two hundred books—with sales of over six million copies, and she has received the RT Book Reviews Lifetime Achievement Award. She and her husband have two grown sons and live in Sisters, Oregon, with their Labrador retriever, Audrey. They enjoy skiing, hiking and biking in the Cascade Mountains.


No One to Trust

Melody Carlson






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Trust in the Lord with all your heart,

and don’t depend on your own understanding.

Remember the Lord in all you do,

and He will give you success.

—Proverbs 3:5–6


Contents

Cover (#uf428a278-4d73-5d84-bc35-2865916a7eaf)

Back Cover Text (#ub3d86374-a374-53b7-bd6b-96eaabb6ade7)

Introduction (#u55a9cfa2-d425-524a-881c-5ff7de743c48)

About the Author (#uf2e644c2-6bef-556d-b5b7-373a18ba8bc8)

Title Page (#u254028c7-fd59-58b9-a4f9-df2c6951301a)

Bible Verse (#uba70e223-0636-5887-a469-ceae6f02af8a)

ONE (#ulink_3017ebb2-8751-5484-beb9-3ed52be1c7dc)

TWO (#ulink_384ef53d-ca11-578c-ba8c-b5165463d77e)

THREE (#ulink_3f144245-621b-51c4-aba8-59e8b0d28ea5)

FOUR (#ulink_6c178685-638e-58a3-b67d-46f815b41d3a)

FIVE (#ulink_12f2e66a-9edf-5c06-9d47-00d47da4ae70)

SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


ONE (#ulink_8f296955-42f8-52fd-a4e7-76bc9286ad1d)

Jon Wilson hoped to see her again today—the runner who’d caught his eye on the beach almost a week ago. The woman he’d been looking for every day ever since. But by the time he and his dog, Ralph, made it to that section of beach, it was late in the afternoon and the fog was rolling in. Not likely she’d be out for a run now. Why hadn’t he stopped painting a couple of hours ago?

Ready to turn back, Jon wanted to kick himself for not getting her name when he’d had the chance. Instead, he’d tried to appear like the “responsible pet owner” by scolding Ralph for chasing after her. Even though she’d seemed to enjoy the silly dog romping alongside her. And Ralph, fully enamored with the pretty blonde with the sunny smile and swinging ponytail, had acted as if he were her new best friend. Too bad Jon hadn’t taken Ralph’s “hint” and befriended her himself. Now it was probably too late. At least for today. Jon glanced down at his ensemble and chuckled. Perhaps it was for the best. In his hurry to get down here, he still had on his old paint-smeared flannel shirt over a faded T-shirt and raggedy cargo pants, also paint-smeared. Even his shaggy hair was overdue for a haircut. Not exactly dressed to impress.

As he called Ralph to go home, a siren sounded. The loud shrill blast was cut short, as if in warning, but it seemed to originate in the small parking area where the beach road ended at the foot of the dunes. The same place he’d suspected the runner might’ve parked her car when she’d come to run the other day. And the same reason he’d been walking down this far once or twice a day. Hoping to “casually” meet her again. With Ralph’s help, of course.

Curious as to what was up, Jon was just considering investigating when Ralph decided to take action. Giving out a sharp bark, he took off, racing toward the dunes that bordered the road. Jon thought about calling him back but, well aware of how his mother’s stubborn terrier took orders, he knew it was pointless. Besides, it might be important to know what was going on. His parents, who visited their beach cabin fairly regularly, had mentioned various rumors of criminal activity in these parts. Both retired attorneys, they had their different theories about what was actually going on. His dad seemed to think it was nothing, but his mom was suspiciously wary. Maybe Jon would discover a new piece of the puzzle for them. Besides, he needed to get Ralph.

* * *

Leah Hampton felt her stomach knot as she watched the uniformed officer from her rearview mirror. His plump face appeared flushed and slightly irritated in the late-afternoon sun. Glancing around the deserted dune area, as if worried someone else was around, he adjusted his dark glasses and sauntered up to her old Subaru. She’d noticed the unmarked car several miles back but hadn’t been concerned. She hadn’t been speeding on this isolated stretch of beach road—her car’s worn shocks couldn’t take it.

A wave of fresh anxiety swept over Leah as she reached for her wallet, ready to fish out her driver’s license and insurance card. She hoped her car’s registration hadn’t expired or that a taillight hadn’t burnt out. Those infractions could result in fines—expenses she couldn’t afford right now. She remembered the last time she’d been pulled over several years ago and how she’d talked her way out of a ticket. But she’d been dressed to the nines that night. Not so today.

Getting out of her car, she adjusted her running tank and smoothed her running shorts, forcing an optimistic smile. “Hello,” she said in a friendly tone. “I was just heading out for a beach run. Is something wrong, Officer?”

“Is that your car?”

“Yep.” She nodded at her old beater. “And I know I wasn’t speeding.”

“No....” He slowly glanced over his shoulder again. What was he looking for? “You weren’t speeding.”

“So what’s up?” She looked around, too. “Is there some kind of danger out here? I mean I do get a little concerned about jogging alone this time of day, especially down here, where there’s no phone connectivity. But I love this part of the beach, and I’m training for the Portland marathon and it’s hard to get my running time in.” She smiled again, deciding to try the sympathy card as she rambled on. “You see, I work part time at The Willows and—”

“You’ll need to come with me,” he said abruptly.

“Come with you?” She stared into the lenses of his dark sunglasses, trying to see the eyes behind them, but only the double image of her own puzzled face reflected back at her. “Why?”

“Because I have a warrant for your arrest.”

“But I haven’t done anything—I haven’t broken any laws.”

“Turn around.”

“But you haven’t even checked my ID. You don’t know who I am.” She held up her wallet, but before she could remove her driver’s license, he smacked her hand, sending the wallet spilling to the ground.

“Doesn’t matter who you are,” he growled, “not where you’re going.”

A silent alarm went off inside her. Something was seriously wrong here. This cop—if he was really a cop—was dangerous.

“I, uh, I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else,” she said in a shaky voice, slowly stepping away from him, hoping to jump into her car and attempt a getaway or at least lean into her horn to get attention from a passerby. Not that there were any. Instead she bumped into the car door, slamming it shut with a loud bang.

In the same instant, he lunged toward her, grabbing her bare upper arm in a viselike grip. “I suggest you come quietly, blondie.”

“But I haven’t done anything to—”

“Look, we can do this the easy way or the hard way.” He was so close she could feel his hot breath in her face. His pudgy lips curled slightly, sending a wave of nausea through her.

“You’ve got the wrong—”

“Okay!” He flipped her around to face her car with one arm twisted painfully behind her back. “You wanna do this the hard way. Fine by me.” He chuckled in a creepy way. “Just you wait and see, blondie.” He pinned her tightly against her car. As he fumbled with his handcuffs, short puffs of hot breath went down the back of her neck.

Her mind racing, Leah knew she was in trouble. Serious trouble. This guy was obviously not a cop. Or if he was a cop, he was a crooked one!

“Let me go!” she screamed at him, hoping to get the attention of a passerby. Although her hope of there being another human in the vicinity was fast fading. “You don’t even know who I am. And I tell you, I’m innocent!” He continued to ignore her and, roughly pressing the side of her face into the gritty roof of her car, he attempted to latch a cuff around her flailing wrist.

“Shut up and stop squirming!” he growled into her ear, unable to get control of her writhing hands.

“I didn’t do anything!” she screamed. “You’ve got the wrong person—just let me explain! I’m innocent! You’ve made a mis—”

Her words were cut off by a barking dog. She tried to turn to see, but the cop, still wrestling with the handcuffs, kept her pinned so tightly that she felt her ribs were about to crack. The cop cursed at the dog, telling him to “beat it or else!” but the dog kept on barking—almost as if it knew she was in trouble, and was trying to help.

* * *

Jon knew something was amiss as soon as he came over the ridge of the dunes. The way the unmarked car had boxed in the old Subaru, the way the uniformed cop had the girl pinned too roughly against her car. The creep factor was high. But when Jon glimpsed the woman’s profile, his hackles went up. It was the girl from the other day. Only now her expression was seriously frightened and she was yelling out that she was innocent. “You’re arresting me without just cause,” she shouted. “You’re not a real cop.”

“What’s going on here?” Jon called out over Ralph’s noisy barking.

The cop turned to Jon with a surprised expression.

“Can I be of help?” Jon continued ambling down the dune, trying to act natural.

“Yeah! Get that stupid mutt outta here!” the cop yelled. “Now!”

Jon called to Ralph as he slowly moved closer to the unsettling scene. Naturally the dog did not respond. Jon hadn’t expected him to.

“Call off your dog—right now!” the cop yelled angrily. “Or else!”

“Back off, Ralph!” Jon commanded and, to his amazement, the little terrier quieted some.

“And you stay right there!” the cop told Jon. “I mean it!”

“Fine.” Jon stopped in his tracks, reminding himself to go easy. Was this guy an imposter like the woman suggested? As he tried to gauge the situation, he wished he hadn’t left his cell phone behind. Even without connectivity, he could be gathering valuable video.

“What’s the problem, Officer?” Jon kept his voice calm and respectful.

“Police business. Now get your mutt and yourself outta here!” he yelled.

Of course, his loud voice set Ralph to barking all over again. Appreciating this distraction, Jon moved closer to the scene. “Don’t worry.” He tried to sound casual. “His bark is worse than his bite. Well, actually he’s never bitten anyone.”

“Stay right where you are!” The cop stepped away from the girl, still holding tightly to her arm, but now she was able to stand up straight. She looked at Jon with desperate brown eyes but didn’t say a word.

“Just trying to get my dog.” Jon held up his hands, forcing an uneasy smile. “Like you said to.”

“Freeze, right there!” the cop shouted, setting Ralph to barking louder. “And control your dog or I will.”

Jon wanted to question how he was supposed to control Ralph if the cop wouldn’t let him move. Instead, he took a different approach. “So what’s going on here?” he asked in a friendly tone, keeping his eyes on the helpless girl who didn’t look as if she could hurt a fly.

“None of your—”

“He says there’s a warrant on me,” the girl shouted, “but I’ve never done anything illegal—ever! And he won’t even check my ID—and he hasn’t read my Miranda rights—he’s a fake and—”

“Shut up!” The cop glanced over his shoulder at her, then back at Jon. He seemed to be rattled as he turned to fully face Jon. “I told you to get that stupid mutt outta here!”

“I would have to move to get the dog,” Jon explained. “You told me to freeze.”

Suddenly the cop released his hold on the girl and reached for his holster, removing his revolver. “Now! I mean it—or else!”

“Come here, Ralph,” Jon said with authority. His tail between his legs, Ralph slowly approached, and Jon scooped him up. The little dog’s body was tense, as if on high alert, as if something were still very wrong.

“Now get outta here!” The cop brandished his weapon.

“Unarmed here,” Jon held up one hand, holding Ralph with the other.

The cop cursed, and pointed the weapon at him.

Before he could stop him, Ralph sprang from Jon’s arms and returned to barking. The frightened woman, free from the cop’s grasp now, watched Jon with a tear-streaked face. He knew he needed to do something—but what? His training and experience as an attorney suggested he should attempt to talk him down.

“I can see something is wrong,” Jon suggested in a calm but firm tone, “but maybe we can discuss this in a civilized manner.” He considered informing the cop that he was an attorney. He could express interest in this woman’s rights, offer to be her legal representation. “I’d like to suggest—”

“I already told you what to do—get your stupid mutt and get outta here!” Despite his angry tone, the cop looked uncertain. He was clearly caught off guard by this uncomfortable triangle—a woman behind him, Jon about thirty feet in the opposite direction and a little dog barking several feet away.

“I warned you!” The cop aimed his gun at Ralph.

“Stop!” Jon lunged for the dog as a loud bang sliced the air. Ralph let out a yelp, collapsing to the ground. The woman screamed, and Jon, frozen in place, felt his adrenaline boiling. His eyes fixed on the cop, he weighed the situation. This cop, if he was one, was definitely crooked. But he was also armed. And dangerous.

The cop looked flustered and agitated—as if trying to make up his mind. Probably deciding which one of them to shoot next. In that same split second, Jon knew without a doubt that this cop was either an imposter or dirty. He looked at the woman and made his decision. “Run!” he yelled at her.

As the cop turned to the girl, Jon sprang at him. Making a huge leap, he blindsided the distracted man. Although the cop was much stouter, Jon’s momentum knocked him flat onto the graveled road, making the revolver fly from his hand.

But the woman was still standing there!

“Run for your life!” Jon yelled at her. He could tell he’d knocked the wind out of the startled cop, but every second was precious. “Run!” he shouted. But instead of fleeing, she sprinted straight toward them and snatched up Ralph. Then she turned and, like a shot, she flew up the side of the dune.


TWO (#ulink_01fdeec5-37f0-552f-a195-17b5cdfdc669)

The red-faced cop cursed angrily when he regained his breath. “You’re a dead man!” he growled as he swung a fist at Jon. As Jon dodged the blow, he noticed the service revolver just a few feet away and reached for it. At the same moment, the cop went for it, too, and both men scrambled in the sand and gravel, fighting for the weapon. The cop swung another massive fist, and as Jon dodged he was able to solidly kick the revolver, sending it spinning into the nearby brush. As the cop leaped for his gun, Jon sprinted up the side of the tall dune.

Just seconds from the beach grass on top, Jon heard the first shot. Kicking it into high gear, he raced for the top just as several shots cracked in quick succession. As he dove for the cover of the grass, he felt a searing jolt on the outer side of his right thigh. He’d been hit. Ducking down, he crawled on all fours, using the tall grass to conceal himself as a couple more shots flew past. He knew that, despite the pain in his thigh, he had to keep moving. Fast!

Crouching low, Jon crawled to the other side of the dune, then continued to run. He had no doubt the cop was following—or that he wanted him dead. Because dead men don’t talk. Jon’s only hope was that, despite his throbbing leg, he could outrun the overweight man. If he was a real cop, which seemed unlikely. And if he was a real cop, he wouldn’t be one for long. Because Jon intended to turn the jerk in, as soon as he got the chance. That is if the cop didn’t kill him first.

As Jon pressed on through the dunes, he prayed that the woman had taken his nonverbal hint and headed north. Cabins, including his parents’ place, were in that direction. And even though most of the vacation cabins sat vacant this time of the year, there was a better chance of her finding help up there. In the meantime, he was determined to lead the crooked cop away from her by heading south. He knew this stretch of shoreline was void of civilization for the next several miles—all the way to the jetty. He also knew that if his body gave out—and that seemed likely—he would probably be dead before sundown.

* * *

Leah paused to catch her breath and, hearing the dog’s pathetic whines, looked down. Seeing the hurt confusion in his golden eyes, she spoke quietly to him as she paused to examine his gunshot wound. She knew from the day they’d met on the beach that his name was Ralph. His master’s name was still a mystery.

“It’s okay, Ralphie,” she said quietly as she checked his left hindquarter. Although it was bleeding, she was relieved to see the bullet had only grazed him. “You’re going to be okay, little guy,” she said soothingly. “We can fix that up.” Still, she knew from her nurse’s training that direct pressure was needed to stop the bleeding.

With nothing to use as a bandage, she decided to turn his wounded side toward her midsection. If she could hold him tightly against herself, she might be able to slow down or stop the bleeding. Knowing it was the best she could do and there was no time to waste, she took off running again.

As badly as she felt for the man who had come to her aid—Ralph’s master—she knew that all she could do at this point was to run for her life, as he’d urged her to do. But the memory of those gunshots—after she’d run—was still reverberating through her. What if he’d been killed?

With no time to think about this, she focused on getting herself and Ralph out of harm’s way. If that were even possible. And as she sprinted through the beach grass, she silently prayed for Ralph’s owner. Unless she’d imagined it, the stranger’s eyes had suggested a northward direction, but she had gone the opposite way. Intentionally. Her plan was to cut through the creek and double back in the surf, in an effort to hide her footprints.

* * *

After Jon had gone about half a mile, he knew he needed to tend his wound. Besides the pain, which had subsided some, he knew he was leaving a trail of blood. Fortunately the old plaid flannel shirt he was wearing over his T-shirt could help. He removed it and wrapped it tightly around his thigh, using the sleeves to secure it. If the cop was trailing him—and that was preferable to the man tracking down the woman—he could at least attempt to make it more difficult. And the longer it took the cop to find Jon, the better the chances for the pretty brown-eyed lady—who he hoped was headed in the opposite direction.

The memory of the slender woman dressed in her running clothes shoved roughly against her car by the heavyset cop filled Jon with a fresh sense of outrage. And with his bandage secured, that anger propelled him even faster. Everything about the scene had felt wrong. All wrong. Even if the girl was a wanted felon, which he seriously doubted, the cop had been inappropriately rough. Not to mention inappropriate. Plus he’d broken the law by not reading the girl her Miranda rights or checking her ID. There had been lots of red flags—strong implications that the cop was not on the up-and-up. He remembered his mother’s opinions about the local law enforcement. “Most of them are very good, but there are a few bad apples that spoil everything.”

He really hoped that creep was on his trail right now—and not following the woman. She was obviously kind and sweet and good—she’d taken care to pick up the injured dog. He prayed she was safe—and Ralph, too.

Jon’s plan was to head south until he reached a runoff creek that would conceal his footprints as he turned toward the ocean. And then, with the help of the fog to hide him, he would double back in the surf, erasing his footprints all the way back up the beach. But when he reached the place where the creek trickled through the bluff wall, he heard a rustling noise followed by the sound of stones tumbling down the bluff. Someone was nearby!

Hunkering down in the shadows of some twisted spruce trees, he waited breathlessly. Was it possible the cop was really that fast? The rustling sound grew closer, but because of the wind, he couldn’t determine which direction it was coming from. Fearing the worst, Jon tried to think of a plan. Should he try to sneak up on him? Jump him from behind? Try to get his gun? And then, if he did, what was next? He’d have to figure some way to safely detain the creep and find a place to call for help. But even then, who would he call? What if his mom was right? What if some of the local police were as crooked as this guy? What if they were all in cahoots? Whatever he did, Jon couldn’t let the “cop” take control of the situation. If he did, he’d be dead, for certain.

Just as he was bracing himself for more hand-to-hand combat, he heard a whimpering noise. It sounded like an animal. Cupping his hand to his ear, he listened intently. Ralph? Jon slowly stood and, peering over the tall beach grass, saw a long blonde ponytail blowing in the breeze. It was the runner!

Not wanting to startle her, he controlled himself from rushing at her. Instead, he slowly approached, waving his arms in silence. And when she recognized him, he hurried over.

“You’re okay,” she whispered, relief washing over her face as they crouched down in the tall grass together.

A shock tore through him as he noticed her pale blue shirt soaked with blood. “Were you shot, too?” he quietly demanded.

“No, no, I’m okay,” she said in a hushed tone. “That’s from Ralph.” She pointed to where Ralph was relieving himself in the tall grass. “Just a flesh wound. He’ll be okay.” She glanced down at Jon’s makeshift bandage. “What about you?”

“A flesh wound, too,” he quietly assured her. “I can run fairly well.”

“You and Ralph are fortunate,” she said.

“Yeah. Officer Krantz is a bad shot.”

“Officer Krantz?” she whispered.

“I noticed the name on his badge when we were scuffling.”

“There’s no way he’s a real cop.”

“I’m sure you’re right. Or if he is, he’s a crooked one.” He glanced over his shoulder. “We better get moving. My guess is he’s following. I’d hoped you’d gone the other way.”

“I planned to turn back in a while. I was headed for the creek, hoping to hide my footprints.” She pointed to the fog bank. “Then I was going to cut across the beach and double back in the surf.”

Jon stared at her in wonder. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I was going to do, too.”

“But I thought the creek was closer.” She frowned.

“It’s still about a mile down the beach.” He stooped over to pick up Ralph. “We better get—” He stopped to the sound of rustling grass—and there was no wind blowing. “Go,” he whispered to her. “Fast.”

Before he could stop her, she grabbed Ralph from his arms. And then she took off and he followed. They hadn’t gone twenty feet before he heard the sound of a gunshot—and unless he was wrong, the source was from a high-powered rifle this time—not a revolver. “Stay low,” he called out as he followed her.

Despite the pain in his leg, he knew he had to run with every ounce of his strength. Not that he could keep pace with her. And for that he was glad. If Krantz was going to catch one of them, he wanted it to be him. To his surprise, the woman was heading inland now, going right into the rolling dunes, which would put them out in the open for a few dangerous seconds. But realizing her strategy—hoping to outrun Krantz through the uneven ups and downs of the sand dunes—he followed. Two more shots rang out just as she made it into the cover of the grassy area and one more before he dived into the grass, rolling down the hill toward her. Even though they were leaving a trail by running through the valley in this dune, he knew this was their best hope. To wear Krantz out and to convince him that they were heading for the jetty. If only Jon didn’t expire first.

After about fifteen minutes of running up and down dune hills, the woman stopped to wait for him. He could barely breathe, let alone talk, but he pointed toward the ocean.

“The creek?” she asked breathlessly.

He nodded. And now they jogged through another section of dune grass, working their way toward the bluff. Jon’s mind was racing now. Who was this Krantz guy anyway? He had to be involved in something really sinister.

Jon’s chest felt as if it were about to burst as they reached the bluff. To his dismay the fog bank hadn’t made it all the way across the beach yet.

“Do you think we lost him?” the woman asked between breaths.

“Don’t know,” he gasped.

“Should we go for it?” She pointed toward the creek that cut across the beach.

He just nodded. And together they scrambled and slid down the sandstone face of the bluff. When they reached the beach level, he motioned to her to wait, pressing his back against the concave rock wall. Just in case Krantz was up above. Straining his ears, he listened, but all he could hear was the sound of his own heavy breathing and the waves. He looked out to where the fog bank was slowly crawling across the sand.

“Should we wait for the fog?” she whispered.

He looked at the bluff overhead, imagining a winded Krantz posted up there with his powerful rifle. They would be easy pickings, making their way through the creek. Jon patted a damp driftwood log that the tide had pushed up against the bluff wall. “Let’s wait.”

“Let me fix that,” she said quietly, pointing to the bandage he’d made from a shirt. “I’m nearly done with nursing school.” She handed Ralph to him. “Might as well put it to use.” She knelt down and went to work.

“Thanks.” He used his hand to wipe the sweat from his brow. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this tired before.

“You’re right,” she whispered. “It’s not a deep wound.” She bound it up more tightly, tying the sleeves of his shirt into a more secure knot and tucking the loose pieces into his makeshift bandage. “Hopefully that’ll hold awhile.”

Jon held a finger to his lips, nodding to where he thought he’d heard a noise up above them. Just then some small stones tumbled down. He slipped his hand around Ralph’s snout to muzzle him, holding him close to his chest. The sound of barking could prove lethal for all of them right now.

The girl looked down at Ralph and, as if sensing the dog’s fear at being muzzled like this, she gently stroked his head and scratched his ears. Jon could feel the small animal slowly relaxing. And still up against the wall and not moving, they remained silently frozen in place for about ten or fifteen minutes. Long enough to catch their breath, and hopefully long enough for Krantz to move on.

Jon nodded to where the fog was nearly to the bluff. He pointed at the woman now, silently indicating that she should remain put while he ventured out. His thinking was that, if he was visible from the bluff above, he’d make an easy potshot—for someone with good aim, that is. But if the cop was going to take him out, Jon wanted the woman to still have a chance. So, holding the muzzled dog, he headed out in the stream, hoping and praying that the fog was thick enough to conceal him—and at the same time bracing himself for the sound of shots and the impact of bullets...and death. But at least she would be safe...or so he hoped. Why hadn’t he gotten her name?

Finally, just as it grew hard to see her, he waved with one hand, motioning for her to join him—and hoping she would hurry. To his relief, she sprinted through the creek, and now they ran full speed toward the ocean, where their footsteps would be washed away forever. Turning north, they continued running through the surf. But it would be at least an hour before they reached safety—if that were even possible. And that was only if they ran at full speed—which Jon wasn’t sure he could do.

“You’re faster,” Jon said breathlessly. “Take the lead.”

“No,” she firmly told him. “I want to stay with you. Your leg’s wounded.” She held out her hands. “Let me carry Ralph—it’s the least I can do.”

He reluctantly relinquished the dog, trying to run faster, but soon realized it took all his energy just to maintain a fast jog. “What’s your name?” he huffed as he struggled to keep pace with her, water splashing with each step.

“Leah,” she told him. “Leah Hampton.”

“I’m Jon.” He gasped for air. “Jon Wilson.”

“Nice to meet you, Jon.” She smiled, and for a moment he felt the sun had burst through the fog, and his steps grew lighter.

“In a while,” he huffed, “we’ll run—beside the water. The tide—coming in—hide our footprints.”

“Good idea.” She nodded. “We’ll make better time that way.”

“Yeah.”

“Where are we going?”

“Home,” he puffed. “I hope.”

So many questions were tumbling through his head, but it was impossible to ask them. Who was she? Where did she live? Why had she been stopped? It took all his energy just to keep moving—and moving quickly. His only hope was that they would outrun and outwit Krantz. But even if they made it back to his parents’ beach house without being caught or shot, they would still be cut off from most of the world. There was no landline there, and Jon’s cell phone was useless in these parts.

Not only that, but his Fiat was in the garage with its carburetor removed and totally dismantled. It had seemed a good idea yesterday. So, other than his parents’ three-wheeled bikes and his dad’s less than dependable quad runner, they would have no transportation. And the nearest vacation cabins—as far as Jon had observed this past week—were all empty right now. The closest “civilization” was a little mom-and-pop store four miles away that kept random hours in the off-season. And then it was another eight miles to town.

When Jon had asked to borrow his parents’ beach cabin as a “getaway” he hadn’t planned on getting away quite like this. He peered through the fog toward the dark shadow of the bluff that ran alongside the beach. In places where the fog was patchy, he could see clear to the top of it. Could Krantz see them, too?

“We gotta move faster,” he huffed at Leah, as if she were the one slowing them down, when he knew she could’ve been a mile ahead by now.

“Here.” She held Ralph close to her with one arm, hooking the other arm into his, and then, keeping stride—pace for pace—she gradually increased the speed, pushing him harder and harder. If the crazy cop didn’t shoot him, he’d probably drop dead from a heart attack right here on the beach before long. But at least he’d have a beautiful woman by his side.


THREE (#ulink_b2776834-7dfc-5bb9-8ec4-6dfd077ff7b1)

Leah knew she was pushing Jon too hard, but the image of that cop’s enraged face and the way he’d pulled out his gun seemed to be driving her. It was obvious that if “Officer” Krantz found them again, he would shoot first and ask questions later...if they were even alive later. As it was, she suspected Krantz wanted them both dead. But why?

She glanced at Jon, knowing that he was exhausted and in pain. He probably couldn’t last much longer, but she knew they had to keep moving—had to find safety. Jon had said “home,” but she wasn’t even sure what that meant. Did he live along this beach somewhere? She thought most, if not all, of the homes along here were vacation cabins. In fact, she’d been warned by several people that this desolate part of the beach wasn’t a safe place for a lone runner during the “off-season.” Too bad she hadn’t listened.

Jon’s pace slowed and then he stopped completely. Bending over and clasping his sides, he panted loudly, trying to catch his breath.

“Are you okay?” she asked breathlessly. “Was the pace too much?”

“No,” he gasped. “Need speed.”

“I know.” She peered through the fog, spotting some thin places where they could be seen and shot at. The sun was going down but not quickly enough to hide them in the darkness.

Still hunched over, Jon nodded toward shore. “Turn here.”

“Let’s go.” She linked his arm again, tugging him into the creek.

Jon stumbled a couple of times, but she managed to keep him on his feet. And it wasn’t long before they were across the stretch of beach. From there Jon led them alongside the bluff until he finally stopped at what appeared to be some steep stone steps, carved right into the bluff. “This way,” he puffed.

Still cradling Ralph in her arms, she let Jon lead the way up the steps, giving him nudges with her shoulder when his footsteps slowed. She knew he was struggling. He’d lost blood and was dehydrated. Even though the gunshot wound didn’t look too serious, it had to be hurting. And if it didn’t get cleaned out, infection could set in.

Through the fog, a large dark shape emerged before them on top of the bluff. It appeared to be a house and as they got closer, she saw that it was made of dark gray stone, similar to the rocky cliff it sat upon. Relief washed through her as Jon led them through an overgrown hedge and across a mossy patio to a back door. He dug in the pocket of his cargo shorts, producing a key. Before long, he’d unlocked the door and led her inside to an enclosed porch that was also a laundry room. “Must lock up,” he said between breaths. “No lights.”

Still panting, Jon locked the porch door, then quickly punched some numbers into a keypad that must’ve been linked to a security system. That was somewhat reassuring. He led them into what appeared to be a kitchen, locking that door, as well. Only illuminated by the last rays of dimming gray light, the old-fashioned room looked slightly eerie—almost like a scene from an old horror movie. Leah suddenly wondered what she was doing here—with a perfect stranger—or if she was even safe. After all, she didn’t even know this man. Not really. Still, it was better than being out there with the crazy cop imposter.

Leah’s mind attempted to replay the mad race up and down the beach, the gunshots, being stopped by the cop. It all felt surreal now. The fact that a “cop” wanted them dead was mind-boggling. In fact, none of this made any sense. How had she gotten herself into such a mess? But somehow, holding the warm little dog in her arms and seeing Jon’s stressed but handsome face peering curiously at her brought a sense of reassurance to her.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I kind of feel like I’m in shock.”

“Me, too.” Jon was still breathing heavily as he reached for Ralph. “Thanks. For helping with him.”

“We need to hydrate,” she told him.

He retrieved a couple of water bottles from a case sitting on the counter, handing her one. As she opened it, Jon filled a bowl with water, setting it on the floor for Ralph to lap. Then he took a long swig from the water bottle.

“You should probably have something besides just straight water to hydrate.” She glanced around the small kitchen. Her eyes had adjusted to the lack of light and she could take in the surroundings. Old-fashioned cabinets, a small kitchen table, a gas stove with pots hanging above it. “Your electrolytes are probably low. Do you have some juice or soda or something?”

“Here.” Jon handed her a beach towel. “Hold that up while I open the fridge—to block the light from showing—just in case anyone’s around to see it.” She held up her “screen” as he opened the fridge. He quickly snagged a bottle of orange juice and a couple of sodas, then closed the door. “There.” He handed her a can of soda.

“We need to cleanse your wound,” she said after she nearly drained her water bottle. “And Ralph’s, too. Do you have any first-aid supplies here? And is there a place where we can turn on more lights so that I can examine the wounds?”

Jon pointed at the window above the sink. “Light will leak through those shutters.” He carried Ralph toward a dark hallway. “But we can black out the bathroom window. And there’s a first-aid kit in there.”

As Leah followed him, she noticed lights flashing in another part of the house. “Jon,” she whispered urgently, tugging on his shirt. “Look!”

As he turned around, she motioned for him to bend down low, pointing to a window in the front of the house where the light had flashed through. “It looked like some sort of searchlight,” she whispered.

“Here.” He slipped Ralph into her arms. “Keep him quiet. And go down the hallway. First door to your right is the basement. Go lock the door, and muzzle him while I investigate.”

* * *

Staying low, Jon crept into the front room in time to spot a police cruiser slowly driving by, flashing a searchlight all around the yard and finally moving on to do the same to the next cabin. This wasn’t the unmarked car that Krantz had been driving, but a well-marked cruiser that was obviously looking for someone. Not good news, since it seemed to suggest that Krantz might really have police connections after all.

Jon watched as the cruiser slowly made its way to the next cabin, once again sweeping it with a bright beam of light, shining it up and down and all around with dogged determination. How long would it take them to figure out that he and Leah were holed up here? And what then?

Staying low, Jon made his way to the basement door, quietly tapping on it, whispering that it was him and waiting to hear the lock clicking. The door opened and, even in the semidarkness, Jon could sense her fear.

“Is he gone?”

Jon just nodded. He wasn’t sure he wanted to tell her about the police cruiser just yet. That would probably just scare her even more. It had certainly shaken him to think that Krantz wasn’t working alone.

“What should we do?” she asked.

“We need a plan.”

“And we need to tend those wounds,” she told him.

He led her to the bathroom, where he hung several towels over the flimsy curtain that covered the small window. But, still not convinced the towels would keep out the light, he got a roll of duct tape, then securely taped all the possible cracks, finally turning on the light above the sink. They both blinked at the brightness of the room, and Ralph actually wagged his tail. Jon grabbed another towel, shoving it against the crack at the bottom of the door. Just in case.

“Poor little guy.” Leah set Ralph in the claw-foot tub. “We need to clean you up.” She turned to Jon. “But I suggest we do you first.” She frowned as she started to scrub out the sink. “I wish we could boil some water.”

“Really?” He frowned. “I thought that was just in movies.”

“Do you have rubbing alcohol?”

“My mom probably does. Dad teases her that she should’ve been a doctor instead of a lawyer.” He opened the large linen closet where his mom stocked all sorts of medical things, including a first-aid kit that he handed to her. Then he started reading the labels from various bottles. “Cough suppressant, aspirin, hydrogen peroxide, milk of magnesia, Neosporin, witch hazel, iodine, rubbing alcohol—”

“Impressive.” She reached for the rubbing alcohol, using it to douse the already cleaned sink, then, plugging the drain, she filled it with warm water, then added a little more rubbing alcohol. “To purify the water,” she explained as she removed some clean washcloths from a nearby shelf. “Why don’t you take a seat on the edge of the tub? Less messy that way.”

Jon petted Ralph as he sat on the edge of the tub, trying not to wince as Leah meticulously cleansed the wound and surrounding area. She applied some iodine around the wound, then Neosporin on the wound.

“It looks pretty clean,” she told him. “From what I can see, it’s not deep enough to harm muscle.” As she pushed a piece of gauze onto the opening, Jon took in a sharp breath. “Sorry,” she said as she pushed another layer of gauze over the first one, securing them with adhesive medical tape. “You could probably use some stitches, but this should hold you for a while.” She looked up at him with a puzzled expression. “I mean, I don’t even know what we’re going to do from here. But this should keep infection at bay.” She stood up straight, reaching for the bottle of disinfecting hand soap again. “And now it’s your turn, Ralph.”

Jon swung his legs around, drying them on a towel, then moving out of the way. He watched with interest as she tended to Ralph, talking gently to him the whole time as she washed the blood off his coat, then finally cleansed and bandaged his wound.

“You’re really good at this.” Jon handed her a clean towel, waiting as she wrapped it around Ralph, gently absorbing the water. “I know my mom will be appreciative that you rescued her dog. Thanks, Leah.”

“I’m the one who should be thanking you.” She stood up straight as Ralph gave a shake to his coat. “If you and Ralph hadn’t shown up when you did—” She visibly shuddered. “Well, I can’t even imagine where I’d be right now. But I’m sure it wouldn’t be good.” Fear washed over her features again. “What if he comes back, Jon? What will we do?”

“Just what we’re doing now? Act like nobody’s home. There’s no reason he should suspect we’re in this particular house. I’ve been a hermit since I got here. And I haven’t seen a single neighbor around. No one knows that I’m here.”

“So you think he’s just checking all the houses along here?”

“That’s my guess.”

She pointed at Ralph. “But what if he comes back? What if he knocks on the door, and Ralph barks and gives us away?”

“He doesn’t normally do that. In fact, that whole thing with Krantz was totally out of character for old Ralph.”

“But he’s been through a lot,” she said. “Maybe he’s not being his normal self.”

“Good point. Being in pain might be a factor.” Jon went to the linen closet again. “My mom sometimes gives Ralph tranquilizers during long car trips. The vet prescribed them to help with Ralph’s anxiety. I gave him one for our trip down here from Portland. Worked like a charm.” He found the bottle and held it up. “Voilà.”

“And good rest helps patients to heal.”

He slipped the bottle of pills into his pocket. “I’ll need to put it into some canned dog food to get it down.” Jon frowned as he remembered the police cruiser. “There’s something I need to tell you.” Realizing she was shivering, he decided to wait. “But first you need some dry, warm clothes to wear. We both do.”

She looked down at her running clothes, then glumly nodded.

“You’re probably about the same size as my mom.” He studied her slender figure as she wrapped the towel around Ralph again, picking him up. “Well, thinner, but I’ll go grab something for you.”

“Better turn off the light before you open the door,” she warned as she sat on the toilet seat lid, cradling Ralph in her lap like an infant. “Just in case.”

“Yeah.” He clicked off the light, then slipped out into the darkness, feeling his way down the hallway to his parents’ room, where despite the drapes he was still reluctant to turn on a light. He fumbled his way over to the closet, wishing he’d thought to grab a flashlight. But, feeling around, he finally located what felt like a set of warm-ups hanging on a hook on the back of the door. His mom’s favorite beach garb—sweatpants and a hoodie sweatshirt. Even if they were a little too big for Leah, they would be clean and warm.

* * *

Leah talked quietly to Ralph as they sat in the pitch-black darkness together. “It’s okay, boy,” she said gently. “You’re going to be okay now.” She knew her words were as much for her as for him, but it was reassuring to feel him starting to relax a little.

But she jumped as the bathroom door opened. “I found something for you,” Jon said as he closed the door, then turned on the light. He held up a velour jogging suit.

“Purple,” she said with raised brows. “Interesting.”

He frowned. “Sorry. It was dark in there. I couldn’t see the color.”

“I’m not complaining.” She smiled. “I’ve just never been a fan of purple.” She reached to touch the soft fabric. “But it does look warm. Thanks!”

“I’ll get this guy some food.” Jon took Ralph from her. “Go ahead and clean up and change. Just douse the light before you come out because I, uh, I noticed the police car still cruising around out there.”

“You mean Krantz’s unmarked car?” she asked with concern.

Jon’s brow creased. “No, it’s a marked car.”

“A marked car? A real police car?”

“Yeah. From the city. According to my parents, they don’t usually patrol out here much. I mean, we’re out of the city limits. But the county doesn’t patrol these parts at all. So I guess they’ve sort of contracted it to the city. But my dad always says it’s kind of a no-man’s-land out here.”

Half of what he said went over her, but the one fact she could hold on to was that a police cruiser was patrolling around, probably looking for them, and it wasn’t Krantz. “What does this mean?” she whispered.

“I’m not sure.” He pointed to the purple warm-ups. “You’re cold. Get those on and I’ll go feed Ralph some food and a tranquilizer. And then we can talk.” He sighed. “And attempt to figure this mess out.”

“It is a mess, isn’t it?”

He just nodded, turning off the light, then opening the door and leaving, closing the door behind him.

Ten minutes later Leah emerged from the bathroom considerably warmer and dryer in Jon’s mother’s sweatpants and hoodie, having freshened up a bit in the sink, rinsed her soiled running clothes and hung them in the bathtub to dry. A real bath sounded lovely. But not here. Not now. Not with Krantz and his “pals” prowling the neighborhood. What was going on anyway?

As she tiptoed through the unlit and quiet kitchen, she noticed lights outside and suddenly, like before, the bright beam was passing through the house’s interior again. Afraid her silhouette might show up, she hit the floor, waiting behind the kitchen doorway as the startling searchlight swept over the premises. Had they figured it out?

When the light beam was pointing away from her, she crawled past the entry to the kitchen. Her heart pounded in fear as she wondered where Jon and Ralph were hiding. Surely they hadn’t left the house. Jon wouldn’t abandon her here by herself. Then, remembering the few minutes she had crouched in pitch-black darkness behind the locked door on the basement stairs, she decided to try it again.

She was just crawling toward the hallway when she heard a loud pounding on the front door. Bracing herself for the sound of Ralph’s barks, she prayed that he’d stay quiet. The pounding persisted, almost as if someone felt certain this was their hideout. “Open up!” a voice yelled as another ray of light swept through the windows in front—flashing over the shadowy furnishings in a way that made her feel like a hunted animal. Like someone’s prey. She remained frozen, cowering by a china hutch, and still a few feet from the hallway and the door to the basement. Praying for invisibility, she felt her heart lurch with each loud bang on the door.

“I know you’re in there!” a loud male voice boomed through the wooden door. Probably Krantz’s. “Come out, or I’m coming in!”

Seeing the light sweeping the other side of the house, Leah made her break through the darkness, quietly scrambling to the safety of the hallway, where she crouched against the wall and waited in fear while Krantz continued pounding and shouting. Certain he was about to kick down the front door, she tried to think—what could she do?

She reached up to try the doorknob to the basement, but it was locked. She suspected Jon and Ralph had gone down there and considered knocking on it, but was afraid it might get Krantz’s attention. And what if Jon opened it with a light on down there? As Krantz continued to pound and shout, she wondered if he really did have a search warrant—and if so, could he legally kick down the door? But then she decided that was just as bogus as him having an arrest warrant for her. But why had he made such a claim? What had been his real intent? And why was he so relentless in his search for them? Well, aside from the fact that they could both accuse him of attempted murder. That was probably more than enough to make him want to silence them.

Just when it felt as if her heart were about to hammer out of her chest, the basement door cracked open and she heard Jon whispering, “Come on. Hurry.”

“Wait,” she whispered back, watching as the flashlight swept through the front room again. Even though it didn’t reach into the hallway, she was too scared to move. Then, as it illuminated the other side, she slipped around the opened door, entered the basement and silently closed and locked the door behind her, then sat on the steps, trying to hold back tears of fear and desperation.

“You’re trembling,” Jon said in a low murmur as he put an arm around her shoulders. “I’m guessing it’s not from being cold.”

“Krantz is out there,” she reported in a hushed tone. “He’s beating on the door—right now. Can’t you hear it?”

“I thought I heard something, but I hoped it was you.”

“Listen,” she whispered frantically. “That’s him pounding—he’s threatening to kick the door down.”

Jon pulled her closer, holding her a little tighter. “There’s nothing we can do about that right now.”

“But what if he does break in?” she asked in a shaky voice. “What if he kicks the door in and enters the house?”

“Then we’ll get him charged with breaking and entering as well as attempted kidnapping, attempted murder, reckless endangerment and several other substantial charges that should get him locked up for a while.” Jon’s voice didn’t sound nearly as brave as his words insinuated. Not that she could blame him. She was so scared she felt sick to her stomach. “We’ve got so much on him that, once he’s convicted, he’ll be put away for a long time, Leah.”

“Not if he kills us first—that’s what he wants to do. I know it.” She let out a little sob. “What is wrong with him? Why is he doing this? Why won’t he just leave us alone?”

“Because we know too much about him.”

“What do we really know?”

“Just that he’s hiding behind his badge while breaking the law. That he’s a bad cop. That’s enough to make him worried. And my suspicion is that we’ve only scratched the surface with him. This guy has a lot to hide. Enough to make it worth his while to get rid of both of us.”

She didn’t doubt that. Even so, it brought no comfort. No hope. As they sat there clinging to each other on the inky staircase, she knew that her only hope—their only hope—was God. She prayed for God’s help—and for the faith to believe He really could deliver them from this madness.


FOUR (#ulink_c4e5b139-2573-5bba-a78e-ba83dc1c3a86)

When the banging overhead finally ceased, Jon kept his arm around Leah, both of them just sitting there and listening to the silence. Finally he helped her to stand and gently guided her down the steep dark stairs.

“Careful,” he warned quietly.

“Do you think he’s really gone? That he gave up?”

“It sounds like it.”

“But why was he so insistent?” she continued. “Do you think he really knows we’re in here?”

“I honestly don’t see how.”

“Maybe we left footprints outside,” she suggested. “Our feet were wet and sandy.”

“But the back patio is already wet and sandy. Plus it’s mossy,” he said. “I can’t imagine any footprints would show up.”

Leah wanted to believe him, but the sound of Krantz yelling kept echoing through her head. At the foot of the stairs, Leah thought she could see a very faint light in the room. As they moved closer, it seemed to be flickering like a flame. Was Krantz going to burn them out? “What’s that?” she asked in alarm. “That light? Where’s it—”

“It’s okay,” Jon said soothingly. “Just a candle. Not visible outside. There are no windows down here.” He led her around a corner where she was surprised to see a small yellow candle bravely burning in a glass jar in the center of a wooden crate that appeared to be serving as a makeshift coffee table in front of a shabby-looking couch and a couple of wicker chairs.

“The light’s nice,” she said quietly. “I couldn’t even see it from the stairs.”

“Good.”

By the candle’s flickering flame, she could see by the trails of dust that things had been moved around. Probably to make it more comfortable—as if they might be down here awhile. But what if Krantz broke in—and started shooting? Perhaps they should barricade the door, too.

“Have a seat,” Jon said gently.

She sat down in a wicker rocker, hugging her arms around her middle and trying to shake off the terror still seeping through her. “I don’t understand why Krantz is so driven. He really sounded as if he plans to break in here—as if he wants to kill us.”

“Well, if he does, the alarm will go off.”

“The alarm?” she asked hopefully.

“Yeah. My parents’ security system. But it might not help much...since it’s the police department in town that will be notified. And Krantz might end up fielding that call for them.”

“And he’d tell them it was a false alarm,” she surmised.

“Probably.” Jon reached for a metal baseball bat leaning against a cardboard box. He swung it up, smacking it into his open palm as if it were a weapon—and not just a youth’s toy. He pointed the bat to a small “arsenal” of other random pieces. A plumbing wrench, a long metal pole, several large kitchen knives, some lengths of rope and a roll of wire, along with several other slightly threatening-looking pieces. He must’ve collected them while she was cleaning up. But, really, she couldn’t see how they’d be much use against Krantz.

“In case we need to defend ourselves,” he said apologetically as he set the bat down. “Hopefully we won’t.”

“Hopefully.” She shuddered to imagine using those “weapons” to ward off real firearms or even a SWAT team. Even if Krantz was a lousy shot, he could hit them eventually. Or one of his buddies would.

“I can’t think of any reason Krantz would focus only on this house,” Jon said. “My guess is he’s just hitting up every house along this road. He’s probably pounding on every door, just hoping to see or hear something that reveals our whereabouts. He’s probably hoping he’ll get Ralph to bark—to give us away.”

“Speaking of Ralph, where is he?” she said suddenly. “Why wasn’t he barking?”

“I put a tranquilizer in his food while you were cleaning up. He chowed down and passed out within minutes.” He pointed to a crate where Ralph was nestled in an old army blanket. “Poor guy was exhausted. He probably didn’t even need the pill, but we won’t take any chances. And I’ve got another one already mixed into some dog food just in case he wakes.”

“Good.” Leah let out a long sigh, willing herself to relax. “This all feels so crazy and unreal—like we just got pulled into some weird crime TV show.”

“I know. I keep trying to figure it all out. Kind of makes my head hurt. And more than figuring it out, I want to figure a way out. I’m just not sure what it is.” He explained how he’d been working on his car the past couple of days. “So it’s not running at the moment.” He shared the other various plans that he’d been concocting, but they all had fatal flaws.

“But can’t we fix your car?” she asked. “I mean, we’d have to wait until the cop cars stop patrolling in order to drive safely out of here, but—”

“My carburetor is in about a hundred pieces,” he said glumly. “It was having problems on the trip down here. I thought I’d be clever and fix it myself.” He explained how he and his dad had torn apart and reassembled numerous cars over the years. “It didn’t seem like a big deal...at the time. And it’s not, except that it’ll take hours to put it all back together.”

“How long?” she asked eagerly. “What if we go work on it now? Maybe I can help.”

“We’d need to cover all the windows in the garage to keep light from going out—that alone might look suspicious. And even if it went smoothly, it could take all night. Even then, I’m not sure it would work. Some of the pieces looked pretty worn. I was going to call in to town to see if I could get some parts delivered out here.”

“Your phone,” she said. “It works here?”

“Not in the house. I have to go climb up onto this rock—it’s about a quarter mile down the road—just to get one bar, and even that’s dicey if the weather is bad.”

“Oh.” She pursed her lips. “But we could do that, couldn’t we? We could go try your phone... I mean, if the cop cars aren’t parked out there.”

“Yes.” He nodded slowly. “We could. And I’m thinking we should call the state police first. But only when we know it’s safe to get to the rock. It’s kind of exposed to the road.” He pointed to some food on the makeshift table with the candle. “Maybe we should eat something first. Just to fortify ourselves...you know, for whatever lies ahead.” He handed her a box of rye crackers as he cut some slices of cheese. “Sorry there’s not much to choose from. I just grabbed what was handy.”

“And you’re certain no one knows you’re here in this house?” she asked as she helped herself to an apple and bit into it. “No neighbors or anyone who could help?”

“Pretty certain. Ralph and I got here on Saturday—the same day we spotted you running on the beach.” He shook his head. “Here I was kicking myself for not getting your name...and now here you are stuck with me.”

She made a weak smile. “I don’t mind being stuck with you.” She just wished the circumstances were different. “So no one saw you coming or going here?”

“I got groceries on my way here,” he explained. “Then I parked my car in the garage. And other than walking on the beach—and I always use the back door for that—I haven’t left the house.”

“You say this is your parents’ house—do they know you’re here? Any chance they could help somehow?” She reached for a piece of cheese.

“They’re on a two-week cruise to celebrate their fortieth anniversary.”

“Sounds nice.” She sighed.

“How about you?” he asked. “Will anyone notice you’re missing?”

She shrugged. “Probably not... Not for a while anyway.”

“Did anyone know where you went to run?”

“I mentioned I was going running to a friend at work. But I didn’t say where.” She frowned. “Stupid... I know.”

“And there’s no one who’d go out looking for you? No husband or boyfriend? No roommate?”

She peered curiously at him. It almost felt as if he were fishing. “No,” she said firmly. “No husband. No boyfriend. My life’s been pretty busy the past couple of years. No time for that sort of thing.”

“Right.”

“But I do live with my great-aunt.”

“So she’ll know you’re missing?” he asked hopefully.

“Probably not. She’s elderly and I live in an apartment over her garage. We can go days without seeing each other.”

“Oh.” He frowned.

“How about you? Anyone who will wonder where you are? Any significant other?”

“I could probably be missing for a week and no one would notice.”

“That sounds rather sad.”

“Well, it’s because I took some time off work. You see, I was house-and dog-sitting for my parents in Portland and it seemed like a good opportunity to have a break. So I brought Ralph to the beach. I planned to stay for a week or two.”

“That must be nice.”

“What?”

“To be able to take a week or two off from work...to come to the beach whenever you like.” It sounded like a different world to Leah. One that she couldn’t help but envy.

He shrugged. “The truth is, I was thinking about quitting my job. I told my boss I needed time to think about it.”

“Didn’t you say you were an attorney? Or was that just to make Krantz worried?”

“I am an attorney. But I work in a firm that mostly practices corporate law. Not really what I’d planned to do with my life.”

“So what did you plan to do with your life?” She took a drink of water.

“I wanted to be an artist.”

She blinked as she set down the water bottle. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. That’s pretty much everyone’s reaction.” He frowned. “But I’ve always been into art. Drawing and painting and even some sculpting. My parents talked me into getting my law degree. They’re both attorneys. They figured if I finished law school, I’d have something to fall back on if my artistic abilities didn’t pay off. But between law school and working, I haven’t been able to pursue art at all. That’s why I decided to take some time away. And it was easier to do with my parents out of the country.”

“Until you got mixed up with me and Krantz.”

“Speaking of Krantz, I think I’ll slip up and see if he’s cleared out. Maybe this is our chance to go use the phone.”

“I’ll come with you,” she said quickly.

“Okay, but you wait in the hallway until I know the coast is clear.”

She listened intently as she waited in the shadowy hall, but other than the gentle sound of the surf, she could hear nothing. Was it possible that Krantz had given up on them? She didn’t think so.

“Come on,” Jon called from the kitchen. “Let’s make a break for it.”

He led her out the back door, quietly locking everything behind them. And then he took her out to where the property overlooked the ocean. “We’ll have to pick our way along the back side here,” he explained, “going through the neighbors’ yards. Too risky to be near the road.”

It didn’t take long before they reached the place where the bluff gave way to a rocky rise and Jon showed her the way to climb up to the top. “Stay low,” he warned quietly as he shielded the light from his phone with his hand. “And keep an eye on the road. You see anyone, just nudge me and I’ll stop talking. Okay?”

“Got it.” Hunched down, she stared out toward the road, which, like everything else, was blanketed in fog. She could hear the sound of his phone and then he was asking for the number of the Oregon State Police—and being connected.

Leah listened to the conversation, hearing Jon telling the dispatcher where they were located and that they were in danger. Unfortunately the dispatcher was insistent upon sending out the local police.

“No,” Jon said firmly but quietly—and for the second time. “Don’t do that. We need the state police to—”

“The protocol is to inform the local police. They can get there sooner,” she said stubbornly. “I’m going to contact them now.”

“But we don’t trust the local police,” he argued. “Please, send out a state trooper and—”

“I am already connecting to your local dispatcher,” she said. “If the local police need us for backup, we will be—”

“No, that won’t—”

Leah elbowed him sharply as the lights from a car shone from around a corner. Even in the fog, she could see the reflective paint that implied it was a police cruiser. And not far behind it came what appeared to be the unmarked car. Probably manned by Krantz. She doubted that the cops could’ve heard them—unless their windows were open—but if a cop directed a spotlight up here, they would be easy to spot. “Get your face down,” she hissed at Jon. And together they huddled against the rock, waiting for the cars to slowly move down the road.

“That dispatcher was worse than useless.” Jon pocketed his phone.

“Who else can we call?” she whispered.

Just then a searchlight came washing over their rock, sending shivers of fear through Leah as she crouched low.

“Come on,” Jon whispered, grabbing her hand. “We better beat it—fast.”

Back on the bluff, he led her farther up and they worked their way past darkened vacation houses until they came to one clear at the end of the row. “I don’t like damaging other people’s property,” Jon said as he picked up a large stone. With a crash he sent it through the front door’s window. “But hopefully they’ll understand, and I’ll pay for repairs.” He reached through the broken glass and opened the door, leaving it barely ajar. “Let’s go,” he said as he grabbed her hand, leading her down to the side of the bluff and onto the beach.

“Why did you do that?” she asked as they picked their way through a rocky area, clinging to the side of the bluff for cover.

“A smoke screen.” Still holding her hand, he was leading her down the beach—heading south again.

“Oh, yeah. To throw them off.”

“Might buy us some time. If they were distracted long enough, we might be able to make it past them and try walking to town.”

“Do you think you could make it with your leg?” She noticed that he was limping.

“It hurts, but I think I can press through. The problem is that we’d have to take the main road. It’d be too rough to go cross-country. Not with the brush and swamps that run through here.”

“Hey, what about my car?” she said suddenly. “Do you think it’s still where I parked it? Maybe we could use it to get away.” Of course, she knew this was pretty ridiculous. Her old Subaru couldn’t outrun a police car if they were pursued.

“It’s probably been towed.” He paused to listen to something up above them, and she held her breath, waiting.

“If we got my dad’s ATV running, we might make it to the jetty, then hike out on foot from there. But if we were spotted, they could easily pick us up on the other end.”

“What should we do?”

“We need a good plan.” He reached for her hand, leading her up the side of the bluff. “Let’s go home and see if we can come up with something.”

But before they could turn up the rock stairs that led to the house, they saw a pair of headlights on the beach, coming steadily toward them and sweeping a searchlight back and forth across the width of the beach as it approached.

“Come on.” Grabbing her hand, Jon pulled her behind a driftwood log, throwing her to the ground as he flopped down beside her.

With wet sand in her face, Leah felt like sobbing—would this never end? And what if they’d been spotted just now? Her heart was pounding in her ears as she saw the light sweeping the beach, going back and forth like in a prison yard. And if they’d been seen, they’d be easy pickings down here on this desolate stretch of beach. No one would hear the gunshots. No one would call the police. And if their lifeless bodies were dragged out into the ocean, there would be no sign of them by tomorrow. They would be taken out with the tide. She shuddered as she desperately prayed for protection.


FIVE (#ulink_58efa5ed-bddd-59d8-a86b-8639d73eb4f9)

After the car was a safe distance down the beach, Jon led Leah back up to the bluff and, seeing no cars or cops in sight, they snuck into the back of the house.

“I want to pull out a file my mom’s been keeping,” he told Leah after he locked the doors. “You go ahead and check on Ralph. If he’s awake, urge him to eat some more. It might make him sleepy.”

“What kind of file?” she asked as they stood in the dark hallway.

“I just remembered something my mom told me recently. She’d been saving articles related to what she believes might be a human-trafficking ring in the Northwest. Particularly around here.”

“Human trafficking—seriously—in Cape Perpetua?”

“I know, it sounds a little far-fetched. Especially considering most people think Cape Perpetua is one of the safest beach towns on the Oregon Coast. My dad thinks my mom’s being overly dramatic. But I’m beginning to wonder.”

“Interesting.”

“So I’ll be digging around for a while. You stay down there with the door locked. Don’t open it unless you know it’s me.”

“Right.” Her voice sounded small and shaky.

“We’re going to be okay,” he told her.

“How do you know that?” she asked in a doubtful tone.

“Because I believe it.” He reached over to place a hand on her shoulder, suppressing the urge to pull her toward him in a comforting hug. “We can outsmart them, Leah. I know we can.”

“Well, you must be a whole lot smarter than me.” She made an attempt at a laugh, but it actually sounded pretty sad.

“Go check on Ralph,” he told her. “And lock the door.”

He waited to hear the sound of the lock clicking into place, then, staying low, he crept out to the kitchen to retrieve a flashlight from the junk drawer. He also pocketed some extra batteries and even got the small battery-powered radio that his mom kept tuned to a local station just in case of tsunami warnings, and set it by the door to the basement. Then, with the flashlight in hand, he crept into the small room next to his parents’ bedroom. They used this space as their study. Although they both claimed that work was outlawed at the beach cabin, one or the other was usually caught going over a legal case from time to time. It was like a family joke and a natural consequence of two attorneys in one marriage.

One wall of the study was filled with a bookcase, and a large corner desk was situated by the window. The right side was used by his dad, and the left was his mom’s. Both of them kept old-fashioned file cabinets—a habit that Jon used to make fun of but something he was thankful for now as he used the flashlight to peruse through his mom’s cabinet. It didn’t take long before he found a manila file folder marked Human Trafficking in bold black ink. Tucking it under his arm, he was about to go down to the basement when he saw headlights moving down the road again. Would they never give up?

He crouched beneath the desk, remembering the glass window he’d smashed and hoping that he’d get the chance to make it up to the homeowners—that he’d live long enough to apologize and explain. But why hadn’t that house kept the police busy for longer? Wouldn’t they have searched it, turned it upside down? Or did it simply allow them to remove one possible cabin from their list of suspects? Perhaps he should’ve left more clues around, or chosen a larger house with more spaces to search through—although that would probably trigger a security alarm. But that might be a good thing if it sent additional cops out here. What was the chance that all the Cape Perpetua cops were crooked? They couldn’t be—could they?

When the room became pitch-dark again, Jon quietly crept out and down the hallway. He was tempted to pull the drapes in the front room, but worried that might be a tip-off. Then he remembered the upstairs bedroom that he’d been using to paint in. Hadn’t he pulled the shades down in there this afternoon when the sun got too hot? He tiptoed up the narrow staircase and was somewhat relieved to see that this room really was sealed off from the light. Not that they’d want to hide out up there, but it would be a change of pace from the dank basement.

Perhaps he could even offer Leah the twin bed to get some sleep tonight—while he kept watch downstairs to be sure she was safe. Before he left, he picked up his sketch pad and a packet of charcoal pencils. It wasn’t as if he thought he was going to sketch anything while they were stuck in the basement trying to make an escape plan—but if things were different, if they were out of danger, he would love to do a sketch of Leah. She had the kind of face that lent itself to art. High forehead, straight nose, gorgeous cheekbones, ocean-colored eyes, full lips... He would like to paint her. If things were different. If they could somehow escape this thing alive.

As he tapped on the basement door, quietly identifying himself when he heard her on the stairs, he wondered what time it was. Although it felt as if it had been hours, maybe even days, since the shocking confrontation in the parking lot, he suspected it was probably not even nine o’clock yet. It would be a long night. He wondered how long it would take to rebuild that carburetor—or if it were even possible. But maybe it was worth a try.

“Here.” He handed Leah the file folder, the radio and his sketch supplies when she opened the door. “I’m going to go get something. Lock the door.” Before heading for the garage, Jon remembered how they’d left the bathroom. With its window covered in towels and signs of blood in the bathtub, it would be a dead giveaway in the event Krantz came into the house. So Jon went in and did a fast cleanup, trying to make it look normal, and finally removing the towels from the window and shoving them into the hamper.

He did a quick check of the kitchen, too, then, satisfied there were no traces of occupation, he crept out to the garage. With no signs of car lights outside, he knew this was his best chance to gather up the carburetor pieces and tools and take them down to the basement. If nothing else, a mechanical chore might keep his mind busy during the long night.

The garage felt more exposed than the rest of the house. Besides the windows in the garage door, the side door had a window in it and there was another window that faced toward the back. All were uncovered because his dad believed the sunlight was a good defense against the moisture and mildew so prevalent on the beach. But it made the garage feel a bit like a fishbowl. Jon tried to keep his flashlight hooded and pointed downward as he hurried to pile the carburetor pieces and necessary tools into a five-gallon bucket. He set a kerosene camp lantern on top.

He was just turning off the small flashlight when he heard the sound of a car engine—and once again, lights were moving around outside the house. Silhouettes of pine trees made sinister-looking shadowy images on the interior wall of the garage—moving back and forth with a persistence that sent a shiver of fear down his spine. Had someone seen signs of his flashlight just now? Jon reached for a nearby tire iron as he cowered against the garage door. As he waited for someone to come crashing through the side door, he thought he was ready to use it.

Crouching down with the tire iron in hand, he suddenly remembered his karate training as a kid—was it possible that he could put it to use now? Or was that just a young boy’s delusion playing through his head? He remembered the Bruce Lee movies he watched with his dad. He was doubtful he could pull off those moves now. For the first time in his relatively peace-loving life, he wished he owned a gun. With his heart in his throat, he waited...and eventually the car moved on. But it had barely headed down the road when the second car came along—and it was followed by a third! Those guys were relentless. Three cars pursuing two innocent people. It was ridiculous. And disturbing. Was it possible that the entire Cape Perpetua Police Department was corrupt? Or had Krantz lied about what had happened? Were he and Leah considered fugitives?

Feeling more hopeless than ever, Jon crept back through the darkened house with his heavy bucket in hand. The wound in his leg was burning like fire, and every muscle in his body was starting to throb along with it. As badly as they needed to get out of here, he did not think he would be able to make it on foot. Besides, it would be too dangerous. For all he knew, there could be more than three cop cars cruising around right now. What if they brought in search dogs?

He tapped quietly on the basement door, hoping that Ralph was still asleep and not inclined to bark. Leah let him in and, not wanting to alarm her, he didn’t mention that the searchers were still crawling all over the place—or that there were more. Instead, he told her his plan to work on the carburetor.





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