Staying hidden has kept her alive...

But now she’s been found.

A remote Colorado mountain town and a fake identity have been Ashley Willis’s safe haven since fleeing after she witnessed a murder—but now the killer has found her trail. Desperate and terrified, she’s prepared to run again…but Deputy Sheriff Chase Fredrick won’t let her. With the lawman by her side, can she face danger head-on…and live long enough to bring a murderer to justice?

TERRI REED’s romance and romantic suspense novels have appeared on the Publishers Weekly top twenty-five and Nielsen BookScan top one hundred lists, and have been featured in USA TODAY, Christian Fiction magazine and RT Book Reviews. Her books have been finalists for the Romance Writers of America RITA® Award and the National Readers’ Choice Award, and finalists three times for the American Christian Fiction Writers Carol Award. Contact Terri at terrireed.com or PO Box 19555, Portland, OR 97224.

Also By Terri Reed

Buried Mountain Secrets

Secret Mountain Hideout

True Blue K-9 Unit

Seeking the Truth

Military K-9 Unit

Tracking Danger

Mission to Protect

Northern Border Patrol

Danger at the Border

Joint Investigation

Murder Under the Mistletoe

Ransom

Identity Unknown

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Secret Mountain Hideout

Terri Reed

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-0-008-90084-7

SECRET MOUNTAIN HIDEOUT

© 2020 Terri Reed

Published in Great Britain 2020

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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“If the killer finds out that I can identify him...” A visible shudder rippled through her. “He will kill me.”

Her palpable fear sent all his protective instincts into high gear. Ashley was in danger. Her life threatened by what she’d seen. Reining in the urge to comfort and assure her she was safe, Chase let his training prompt him to ask, “Why does Detective Peters think you’re involved?”

Her shoulders slumped. “I don’t know.”

Was he being played? He sent up a quick prayer asking for God’s wisdom and guidance here. Keeping his voice from betraying the anxiety her words caused, he said, “We have to get you to the sheriff’s station so you can give your statement. You need to be brave now.”

For a long moment, she simply stared at him. He could see her inner debate playing out on her face. Trust him or not.

He couldn’t help her with the decision.

Finally, she seemed to deflate. “I’m so tired of being scared. I want to be brave.”

He covered her icy hand. “I’ll help you.”

Dear Reader,

I hope you enjoyed visiting Bristle Township, Colorado. Having the Rocky Mountains as the backdrop for this book and the previous one, Buried Mountain Secrets, is such a special treat. I love the mountains, the rocky terrain, the forest and the many ways that the setting plays a part in the story.

Ashley Willis found a safe haven when she landed in Bristle Township. But she felt guilt and shame for the secrets she kept. Pairing her with Deputy Chase Fredrick seemed like a good match for he was a man of honor and integrity, a man who would protect her and love her regardless of her past. And he needed someone who could love him for the man that he was, not for the family he came from. Together, they made a formidable team and won each other’s hearts.

I hope to write more books set in Bristle Township, featuring the men and the women of the Sheriff’s Department.

Until then, may God bless you and keep you in His care.

Terri Reed

Hear my voice, O God, in my prayer: preserve my life from fear of the enemy. Hide me from the secret counsel of the wicked; from the insurrection of the workers of iniquity.

—Psalm 64:1–2

To the ones I love. May God shine His face upon you always and give you peace.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Introduction

Dear Reader

Bible Verse

Dedication

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

About the Publisher

ONE

It couldn’t be.

Ice filled Ashley Willis’s veins despite the spring sunshine streaming through the living room windows of the Bristle Township home in Colorado where she rented a bedroom.

Disbelief cemented her feet to the floor, her gaze riveted to the horrific images on the television screen.

Flames shot of out of the two-story building she’d hoped never to see again. Its once bright red awnings were now singed black and the magnificent stained-glass windows depicting the image of an angry bull were no more.

She knew that place intimately.

The same place that haunted her nightmares.

The newscaster’s words assaulted her. She grabbed on to the back of the faded floral couch for support.

In a fiery inferno, the posh Burbank restaurant, The Matador, was consumed by a raging fire in the wee hours of the morning. Firefighters are working diligently to douse the flames. So far there have been no fatalities, however, there has been one critical injury.

Ashley’s heart thumped painfully in her chest, reminding her to breathe. Concern for her friend, Gregor, the man who had safely spirited her away from the Los Angeles area one frightening night a year and a half ago when she’d witnessed her boss, Maksim Sokolov, kill a man, thrummed through her. She had to know what happened. She had to know if Gregor was the one injured.

She had to know if this had anything to do with her.

“Mrs. Marsh,” Ashley called out. “Would you mind if I use your cell phone?”

Her landlady, a widow in her mideighties, appeared in the archway between the living room and kitchen. Her hot-pink tracksuit hung on her stooped shoulders but it was her bright smile that always tugged at Ashley’s heart. The woman was a spitfire with her blue-gray hair and her kind green eyes behind thick spectacles.

“Of course, dear. It’s in my purse.” She pointed to the black satchel on the dining room table. “Though you know, as I keep saying, you should get your own cell phone. It’s not safe for a young lady to be walking around without any means of calling for help.”

They had been over this before. Ashley didn’t want anything attached to her name.

Or rather, her assumed identity—Jane Thompson.

Putting the name she was using in some system where it could be flagged and she could be discovered in Bristle Township was a disaster she wanted to avoid at all costs.

So far, using the identification Gregor had given her had worked. She’d been too stunned at the time to question where he’d obtained the driver’s license, social security card and credit card, all with the name Jane Thompson. She suspected she wouldn’t have liked the answer had she asked. No one so far had questioned that she wasn’t Jane Thompson. She didn’t know what she’d do if the thin line keeping her safe disappeared and her true identity became known.

A shudder of dread, followed closely by a jab of guilt at deceiving the good people of Bristle Township, made her gut tighten. She prayed God would forgive her for doing what she had to in order to survive.

“I just need to make a quick phone call,” Ashley assured her landlady as the urgent drive to know who was injured consumed her.

If she could have bought a burner phone in Bristle Township she would have, but that wasn’t an option. First, none of the local stores carried one—she’d discreetly searched—and second, everyone would know about such a purchase the moment she made it.

Thankfully, Mrs. Marsh’s data plan included free long distance, as well as Wi-Fi. Mrs. Marsh’s children, who both lived in Texas, had sent her the phone so that they could communicate with her.

With phone in hand, Ashley quickly searched for the hospitals in and around the Burbank area. She called each listed and on the fourth try found the hospital where the critically injured victim of The Matador fire had been taken.

Her heart sank to have her fear confirmed that Gregor Kominski, the restaurant’s manager, had been the one hurt. Anxiety made her limbs shake beneath the khaki pants and long sleeve T-shirt sporting the Java Bean logo on the front breast pocket and the back. She had been on her way out the door for work when she’d seen the news.

Had the fire been set intentionally? Had Gregor suffered because of her?

“Are you a relative of Mr. Kominski’s?” the woman from the hospital on the other end of the line questioned.

Biting her lip, Ashley debated her answer. She didn’t want to lie, but she doubted they would give her much information if she admitted she wasn’t related to the man. Finally, she hedged, allowing the woman to make her own assumption. “I’m calling from out of town. What can you tell me? Is he going to be okay?”

“He remains in critical condition,” the woman said. “Would you like to leave a name and a number for updates?”

Ashley quickly hung up. No, she didn’t want to leave a name and number. She didn’t want there to be any trace of her reaching out for information. The call had been a risk. One she hoped she wouldn’t have to pay for with her life.

Gossip in Bristle Township traveled faster than the wind off the mountain. Ashley couldn’t help but overhear several customers of the Java Bean coffee shop talking about a detective from California asking questions about a mysterious woman.

Heart beating in her throat, Ashley spilled milk all over the espresso machine. With shaky hands, she quickly wiped up the mess and finished making the specialty drink.

Just this morning she’d learned of the fire that had destroyed The Matador restaurant and sent her friend to the hospital. Now a police officer from the same state was in town. Coincidence? Or was she on the verge of being discovered?

Ethan Johnson, a local farmer, stared at her from beneath the brim of a well-worn baseball cap as she handed him the steaming cup of mocha cappuccino. “Do you have a sister?”

Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth as she mutely shook her head.

“Hmm. I guess we all have a doppelganger,” he commented. His blue veined hands cupped the to-go container as if the warmth of the liquid inside was soothing to the arthritis evident in the swollen joints of his fingers.

Forcing herself to speak, she asked, “Why do you say that?”

“You vaguely resemble the woman in the photo the lawman was asking me about,” he replied with a shrug. He lifted the cup and blew through the hole on the lid as he walked away.

Though she barely resembled her old self, terror of being exposed ripped through Ashley. She’d been careful to keep her appearance understated so she could blend in better. Though the dye job she’d done right before landing in Bristle Township hadn’t turned out quite the way she’d expected. Much too flashy.

The carton of hair dye had claimed she’d end up with honey blond hair. She touched the short platinum blond strands curling around her face. Sudden sadness and anger at the circumstances that had forced her to change not only her hair color and style but also her whole life swamped her, weighing her down.

One simple distracted moment and her world had spun out of control.

Knowing things could be so much worse—she could be dead—she quickly removed her apron and hurried over to the owner of the Java Bean, Stephen Humphrey. He was a big teddy bear of a man with two teenage kids who helped out on the weekends.

“Hey, boss. I need to take a break, if that’s okay. I forgot I promised Mrs. Marsh I would help her with something.” Like protecting her from me.

Ashley’s insides twisted with guilt. She hated having to keep her true identity a secret from these people who had shown her such kindness.

She knew Stephen had a soft spot for Mrs. Marsh. The whole town did. Mrs. Marsh and her late husband had been beloved grade school teachers. Everyone who had grown up in town had been in her or her late husband’s classes. Ashley had heard so many wonderful stories of how Mr. and Mrs. Marsh had made a difference in people’s lives.

Just as Mrs. Marsh was making a huge difference in Ashley’s life. More guilt and regret heaped on her head, making her scalp tingle. She wanted to scrub the past year and a half away, go back in time and undo what was done. But she couldn’t.

The only thing she could do was run to stay alive.

“Sure,” Stephen replied. “Just be back for the afternoon rush.”

She smiled tightly but refrained from promising. It was time for her to leave Bristle Township as soon as possible. The thought pinched, creating a pang of sorrow. She liked the town and her job. She’d started to make friends, letting people into her heart. Foolish on her part.

Over the last year she’d saved up so she could afford to move on. She’d only stopped in the small mountainside community and taken the job at the coffee shop because she’d run out of the money Gregor had given her. He’d told her never to contact him again and she hadn’t wanted to put her mother in danger by contacting her.

Not that Irene Willis would have been in any position to help her only child, nor would she have made much effort if she could. Irene barely made a living waiting tables at a truck stop outside Barstow, California, and Ashley was positive her mom’s life was less complicated without her daughter to set off her temper. One of the many reasons Ashley had left as quickly as she could when she turned eighteen.

Ashley’s only option had been staying in one place long enough to earn more money to keep running for her life. She hadn’t meant to stay so long. But life had become comfortable and she’d believed herself secure in this quaint mountain hamlet. Maybe if she’d stayed in Barstow or chosen a different path, she wouldn’t be here now.

An illusion of safety had kept her here. Another mistake she couldn’t afford. And now she was on the brink of being found out. She had no doubt that the detective was hunting for her. She couldn’t let him succeed in tracking her down.

She hurried out the back entrance of the Java Bean, taking a deep breath of the pine-scented air. She crossed the town park, trying to keep a low profile. The park was filled with moms and their children too young for school. A few elderly couples strolled along the street. A horn honked, startling Ashley. She glanced around, fear slithering through her, making her muscles tense. Two cars vied for the same parking space in front of the bookstore on the main street. Breathing a little easier she hurried on, cutting through the library parking lot, and walked fast down the residential street leading to Mrs. Marsh’s place.

The trees along the sidewalk were beginning to blossom. Soft pink petals floated to the ground on a slight breeze. Ashley barely noticed the beauty today, her mind tormented with anxiety.

Managing to reach the boarding house without being seen, she gathered her meager belongings, left an apologetic note and some cash for Mrs. Marsh. Then putting up the hood of her navy down jacket to cover her bright hair, she retraced the same path she’d taken earlier and made her way to the Bristle Hotel where the interstate bus picked up and dropped off passengers.

A teenager on a bike rode by, waving at her. She had no choice but to wave back to Brady Gallo. Maybe he wouldn’t mention to his older sister that he’d seen Jane. It pained Ashley to leave Maya, Leslie and Kaitlyn—the three women who’d befriended her—without a goodbye, but it couldn’t be helped.

At the Bristle Hotel, a beautiful old building that dated back to the township’s conception, Ashley checked with the front desk clerk and learned a bus was due to arrive within minutes and was headed to Montana. She bought a ticket and then took a position behind a pillar on the wide porch to wait for the bus. There were a couple of other people waiting and she purposely ignored them. The last thing she needed was to engage in idle conversation.

She hoped and prayed she made it out of town before she was found or stopped.

The bus rolled in and she hurried to stow her bag in the undercarriage compartment, then moved to wait at the door behind a guy who needed a shower. The stench coming from his unwashed hair made her eyes water. He’d probably been hiking on the popular trails that began right on the edge of Bristle and threaded up into the mountains.

She hung back as long as she dared, allowing space between them. There were already several people onboard the bus. Seemed Montana was the destination of choice today.

The guy in front of her showed his ticket to the driver and boarded.

“Jane! Wait.”

Hesitating, Ashley warily turned to find Deputy Chase Fredrick striding toward her, undeniably handsome in his brown uniform. His sandy blond hair swept over his forehead in an appealing way and his intense blue eyes bored into her. He’d always been kind and charming when he’d come into the Java Bean for coffee.

In different circumstances, she might have been tempted to flirt with him, but there was no place in her life for a man. It was bad enough she’d made friends who were going to be hurt and disappointed by her departure. She regretted causing anyone pain and wouldn’t make that mistake again.

What did the deputy want? Dread clawed through her. Was her ruse up? Would she find herself in jail? Or worse—dead?

Desperate to get on the bus, Ashley thrust her ticket at the driver, but he didn’t reach for it as he stared at her a moment and then turned his gaze to the deputy who’d come to a halt at her side and touched her elbow.

Panic revved Ashley’s pulse. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” His blue gaze searched her face. “Why are you leaving town?”

Stiffening her spine, she replied, “It’s none of your business.”

“It is my business if you’re a criminal,” he stated in a low voice.

She drew back. Fear fluttered in her chest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Turning to the bus driver, Chase said, “She won’t be taking this bus. Can you unload her bags?”

Giving Ashley a cautious glance, the driver’s head bobbed. “Straight away, Officer.”

“No! I have to go,” she protested. “I need to get on this bus.”

The driver hurried to the cargo hold and dragged her duffel out, setting it on the ground before resuming his position at the bus door.

Drawing her away from the curious gazes, Chase said, “Jane, be straight with me. There’s a detective from Los Angeles here searching for a woman wanted in connection with a murder. And I’m pretty sure the woman in the photo he has is you.”

Her stomach dropped. Fear squeezed her lungs, making breathing difficult.

“Did you kill a man?”

She swallowed back the bile rising to burn her throat. “Of course not. I could never—I wouldn’t—”

She wasn’t a murderer.

But she knew who was.

Gregor had warned her not to tell anyone, not even the police. They were not to be trusted, he’d said. “I’ve got to go. This is the only bus out today.”

“You’re not going anywhere—” Chase’s voice was hard and his eyes glittered with warning “—until you tell me the truth.”

“Last call,” the bus driver called out, sliding a cautious glance their way.

Her gaze darted from the bus to Chase. “Please,” she pleaded. “I need to leave. You don’t understand. If he finds me, he’ll kill me.”

Confusion tampered down the hardness of Chase’s features. “Jane, trust me. I can protect you. Just tell me what it is you’re running from.”

She shook her head and took a step back. “No. I was warned not to say anything. Not even to the police. I can’t trust you. I can’t trust anyone.”

The driver stepped into the bus and closed the door. The bus’s engine rumbled and a few seconds later a plume of exhaust filled the air as the bus drove away. Frustration pounded a rapid beat at her temple. Now she was trapped with no way out.

Chase snagged her hand and gently coaxed her fist open. “Jane, listen to me carefully.” His voice softened to a smooth tone that seemed to coil inside of her. Her pulse leaped. His touch soothed.

“My job is to protect and serve the citizens of Bristle Township. You are one of its citizens.” The intensity in his clear gaze mesmerized her. “I will protect you. If you committed a crime, it is better for you to face it than to run.”

Though his hands were warm and reassuring, her heart turned cold. She jerked away from him. “No. I didn’t commit a crime. I didn’t see anything. I don’t know anything.”

He stepped closer, invading her space. “I understand you’re afraid. Whatever it is, I will be with you the whole way. Please, trust me.”

She angled her head to stare at him. “Why is my trust so important to you?”

As if her words were a splash of cold water, he abruptly stepped back. “It’s my job to protect you.”

She shook her head with a dash of cynicism. “I know you want to believe you can protect me, but the type of people I need protection from don’t respect authority. They’d just as soon kill you as look at you.”

Chase stood tall as if her words had been a personal assault. “Jane, tell me what you know.”

She glanced around to make sure she wouldn’t be overheard. She hated how exposed and vulnerable she felt out in the open. She gestured for him to follow her beneath the shade of a large Douglas fir. “If I tell you, will you help me get out of here?”

“If you tell me, I promise I will protect you.”

More frustration bubbled inside her. What choice did she have? Her only option was to trust Chase and his promise of protection until she had an opportunity to run again. She had to stay vigilant if she wanted to stay alive.

Her heart raced. Her gaze darted from shadow to shadow, half expecting Maksim Sokolov to step out from behind a tree like a bogeyman from a horror movie. “A year and a half ago—” her voice dipped as the secret she’d held inside escaped like a bat out of a dark cave “—I witnessed a murder.”

Jane’s words echoed through Chase’s brain. Sympathy squeezed his heart. Ever since the detective, who’d appeared this morning without warning at the sheriff station, had shown Chase the photo of a woman with long dark hair and bangs dressed in a black dress and pumps at the back door of a brick building, Chase’s stomach had been tied in knots.

Though only the woman’s profile had been visible, there had been something vaguely familiar about the curve of her cheek, the line of her jaw. And then it had come to him. The woman in the photo was Jane.

And she apparently was hiding in Bristle Township because she’d witnessed a murder. “Tell me what happened.”

She shook her head. “If the killer finds out that I can identify him...” A visible shudder rippled through her. “He will kill me and anyone else in his path.”

Her palpable fear sent all his protective instincts into high gear. She was in danger. Her life threatened by what she’d seen. Reining in the urge to comfort and assure her that she was safe, he let his training prompt him to ask, “Why is Detective Peters convinced you’re involved?”

She turned to pluck the bark off the tree. Her shoulders slumped. “I don’t know.”

Was he being played? He sent up a quick prayer, asking for God’s wisdom and guidance here. Keeping his voice from betraying the anxiety her words caused, he said, “We have to get you to the sheriff’s station so you can give your statement. You need to be brave now.”

Chase hoped she would come willingly. He didn’t want to have to compel her by putting her in cuffs.

For a long moment, she simply stared at him. He could see her inner debate with herself playing out on her face. Trust him or not.

He couldn’t help her with the decision.

Finally, she seemed to deflate. “I’m so tired of being scared. I want to be brave.”

He covered her icy hand. “I’ll help you.”

Snagging her duffel with his free hand, he walked with her away from the hotel. They hadn’t gone far when a black SUV pulled up alongside them and Detective William Peters hopped out. The tall, bulky man wore a wrinkled gray suit, white button-down shirt and red tie. His dark hair brushed the edges of his collar.

There was something about the man’s gruff demeanor that had rankled Chase from the second they’d met. He chalked it up to city vs. small town. One of the many reasons Chase left the Chicago PD after only a year. He hadn’t wanted to become jaded like so many of his fellow officers.

Chase believed in good over evil, that the right side of the law would win in the end. And justice wasn’t prejudiced or affected by social status. Maybe that made him naive as some had said. He didn’t care. He had faith that he was doing what God wanted for his life.

Detective Peters’s dark eyes glittered with triumph. “There you are.” He opened the rear passenger door. “Get in. We have a plane to catch.”

Jane clutched Chase’s arm. She made no move to comply.

“Hold on a minute,” Chase told the detective. “We need to do this the right way. We go to the sheriff’s station so we can make a proper transfer to your custody.”

Peters shook his head. “No way. She’s coming with me now. I have a warrant that gives me the right to take her into custody on sight.”

Chase didn’t recall any mention of a warrant. “The sheriff will want to talk with her.”

“There’s no time for that.” Peters stepped forward and grabbed Jane by the arm, yanking her from Chase’s grasp. He pushed her inside the back passenger side of the SUV.

“You can’t just take her away,” Chase argued. “There’s protocol to follow.”

Peters got in Chase’s face. “Back off. If you have an issue, then call the brass. I’ve got my orders.”

“Chase?”

Jane’s anxiety curled through Chase. “I’m going with you. I’ll get my own plane ticket. Even if I have to fly on a different airline.” He stepped forward to slide into the back seat with Jane when Peters slammed the door shut, blocking Chase from following her into the vehicle.

Peters shoved Chase back a step and glared. “This is my collar, not yours. I’m not letting some Podunk deputy interfere with my investigation.”

Taken aback by the man’s hostility, Chase put his hand on the butt of his weapon. Drawing on a fellow officer wasn’t something he wanted to do, but if the man continued with his aggressive behavior, Chase would have little choice. “She’s a witness, not a suspect.”

“That’s for others with a higher pay grade to decide. She’s coming with me.” Peters jumped into the vehicle.

Chase grabbed the back door handle but it was locked. He banged on the driver’s side window. “You can’t just take her like this.”

The SUV’s engine revved. Peters hit the gas and the SUV peeled away, forcing Chase to jump aside to avoid being hit.

This wasn’t right. There was a proper way of doing things. Chase ran to the sheriff’s station. At the front desk, he asked Carole if she could get the chief of the Los Angeles Police Department on the line for the sheriff. Then he moved into the inner sanctuary of the station. His voice shook with anger as he told the sheriff and the other deputies about Jane and what had just transpired.

“I’ve got the Burbank Police Department on the line,” Carole called from her desk. “Should I send the call to your desk, Sheriff?”

“No, send it to Chase’s,” Sheriff Ryder replied.

Stunned, Chase stared. “Sir?”

“You’re running point on this one,” the sheriff replied.

Not about to question his boss, Chase sat at his desk and punched the blinking light. A second later a man’s deep voice came on the line. “Chief Macintosh, how can I help you?”

Chase hurriedly explained the situation, giving his protest at the detective’s manhandling of their citizen.

There was a long pause before Chief Macintosh replied, “You say this man had Detective William Peters’s identification?”

A strange question. An unsettled apprehension curled through Chase. “He did.”

“The man’s an imposter,” Macintosh said. “Detective William Peters is dead. Murdered during an undercover operation.”

TWO

The air swooshed out of Chase’s lungs. If he hadn’t been sitting, he’d have fallen to the floor. His mind raced and his blood pounded. The man posing as Detective William Peters was a fake. The real detective was dead.

Jane was in danger.

Kidnapped. And Chase had let it happen.

Guilt reached up to throttle his windpipe. He’d made a horrible mistake by not stopping the fake detective. Now Jane would pay the price.

“Whoever this woman is, she could be a potential witness to the real Detective Peters’s murder,” Chief Macintosh continued.

Chase’s stomach sank. “She claims she can ID a killer.”

Excitement buzzed in the chief’s voice. “Did she give a name?”

“No, sir.” She’d been too afraid. He could only imagine how terrified she was now. She’d tried to warn him not to trust anyone. Chase had lost control of the situation. A rookie mistake. He wasn’t a rookie anymore. Self-anger burned in his gut.

“You need to find this phony detective before he kills her,” Chief Macintosh said, his tone grim.

“I will.” Chase hung up with knots in his stomach.

The man said they had a plane to catch, which meant they were headed to Denver. He needed the state patrol’s help. He jerked to his feet. “Carole, can you get the state patrol on the line?”

“Chase?” Deputy Kaitlyn Lanz rose from her desk. “What’s wrong?”

“The real Peters is dead. The man posing as him most likely is an assassin sent to silence Jane. We have to find them.”

Eyes wide with a mix of worry and surprise, Kaitlyn said, “Yes, of course.”

Carole hurried from her desk. “Sheriff, the phones are blowing up again. A speeding black SUV nearly ran down Brady Gallo. Others are reporting the vehicle heading up Bishop Summit.”

Chase was familiar with the forestry road on the backside of Eagle Crest Mountain, which led to the ski resort at the top. It was a dangerous, twisty climb with lots of cliffs on one side. The assassin wasn’t taking Jane to Denver but to a remote area to kill her.

“Also, Lucca Chinn is here, wanting to know what’s going on,” Carole said.

Groaning aloud, Chase jerked his gaze to the sheriff. The last thing they needed was The Bristle Township Gazette’s publisher, reporter and custodian—the man was a one-person operation—sticking his nose into the situation. Even a small town had someone who insisted the public needed to be kept informed, and Lucca Chinn had appointed himself the resident news source.

“I’ll take care of Chinn,” the sheriff stated. “You go.”

Galvanized into action, Chase ran out the door with deputies Daniel Rawlings and Kaitlyn Lanz on his heels.

“I’ll be right behind you.” Kaitlyn peeled away and ran toward her own vehicle.

Chase didn’t stop to question why she needed to drive her own truck pulling a horse trailer as he slid into the driver’s seat of one of the department-issued vehicles while Daniel hopped into the passenger seat. Chase lifted a prayer that he would get to Jane before it was too late.

Ashley stared out the window of the rear passenger seat of the big black SUV as the vehicle roared up the access road to the ski resort. Green trees and various other plants growing wild along the edges of the road were a blur. The SUV’s tires squealed as the vehicle sped through a curve in the road.

“I don’t understand,” she said to the man in front. “I thought you said we were going to the airport. This isn’t the way to Denver.”

She could only see his profile at this angle. His nose had a lump on the top like he’d broken it and not had it set well. His dark hair was unruly. Everything about him was at odds with the button-down way Deputy Chase Fredrick presented himself. “Shut up,” the detective growled.

Alarm raised the hairs on her arms. She didn’t know what this man was up to but the dread squeezing her lungs urged her to escape. She tried the door handle, but the door wouldn’t open. He’d activated the vehicle’s child locks, keeping her trapped inside. She tried the window, but it too wouldn’t open. Not that either option was an escape when the SUV was buzzing along like a rocket on the twisty road.

She kicked the front seat. “Hey! What are you doing? Where are you taking me?”

He ignored her.

Who was this man driving her up the mountain? Was he really a detective? Fear scraped along her nerves. Had her captor been sent by Maksim Sokolov?

The vehicle made a sharp turn into an overlook gravel turnout and came to an abrupt halt, throwing her forward. The seat belt snapped into a locked position, keeping her from flying into the back of the front seat. The strap cut into her chest. Once the pressure lessened, she rubbed at the place where the seat belt had no doubt left a mark.

The detective climbed out of the SUV and came around to her side of the vehicle. She quickly unbuckled and scooted across to the other side of the back seat as he yanked open the door. She attempted to climb into the front driver’s seat but her attacker reached in and grabbed her by the ankles, dragging her toward him.

Frantic, she kicked, hoping to dislodge his grip, but his hands were like manacles, his fingers digging into her flesh and not letting go. He yanked her out of the SUV, her back bumping painfully on the edge of the door frame. She landed flat on the ground with a jarring jolt. Gravel and grit bit into her through her clothes.

Her assailant loosened his grip for a fraction of a second, which was enough time for her to break out of his grasp with a forceful jerk. She jumped to her feet and ran toward the road, hoping someone else would drive by. Feet pounded behind her. She pushed herself to move faster, but she’d never been a strong runner.

Her captor caught her, grabbing her by the waist and lifting her off her feet. She pummeled his arms and lashed out with her feet.

“You are so dead,” he growled. “Even if I hadn’t been sent here to kill you, I’d do it just because.”

“Please, no. I haven’t told anyone what I saw,” she beseeched the man, hoping for mercy. “You can tell Mr. Sokolov I won’t talk.”

Ignoring her pleas, her kidnapper carried her away from the road, past the SUV and dragged her across the lookout barrier. There was an overhang not far below.

“Move it,” he demanded, giving her a push, forcing her down the steep incline.

Her tennis shoes made the going rough, as the rubber slipped on the loose dirt and rocks. Using her arms, she tried to keep her balance, fearing that she’d take a header over the side of the cliff.

“But you’re a law enforcement officer,” she exclaimed, shocked by his words that he truly did intend to kill her. “You can’t mean to really harm me. What about your oath to protect?”

He let out an evil laugh that sent chills down her spine. “The police think you’re a killer. Besides, no one is going to care when you’re dead.”

His words sliced her open. “How much did Mr. Sokolov pay you?” she demanded, wishing she could offer him more, but she had no money. “How much is my life worth?”

“Enough to set me up for the rest of my life,” he said. “No more talking. Time for you to die.”

Terror consumed her. The man hauled her toward the ledge that dropped off to a steep cliff with a deep ravine far below. The nightmare she’d been trapped in was coming to a horrifying end.

At the edge of the outcropping, his rough hands reached for her. Acting instinctively, she dropped to the ground, wrapping her arms around his ankles. If she was going over the cliff, so was he.

Chase’s hands gripped and re-gripped the steering wheel as he took the corners at a breakneck speed. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, giving him a lead foot.

“Whoa,” Daniel said, bracing his hands on the dashboard as the vehicle careened around a curve on the forestry road on the backside of Eagle Crest Mountain. “It’s not going to do Jane any good if we drive off the side of the mountain.”

Heeding Daniel’s words, Chase eased up a fraction. They had to find Jane. He’d already betrayed her trust by letting her go off with an assassin and failed his repeated vow to protect her. The heavy weight of responsibility descended on his shoulders. He couldn’t let her die.

The black SUV came into view and Chase hit the brakes, skidding to a halt in front of the vehicle. There was no sign of Jane or the fake detective.

“Radio the sheriff our location.” Chase jumped out of the car and ran to the SUV. A quick peek inside confirmed it was empty. He turned around, desperate to figure out where they’d gone. The ground was marred with footsteps and drag marks in the gravel.

His stomach clenched with dread as he followed the trail to the guardrail. Peering over the side of the cliff, horror filled his veins. On an outcropping stood Peters with Jane clutching his legs for dear life as he tried to pry her from him. His objective was clear. He was going to throw her over the cliff.

Chase vaulted over the guardrail and drew his weapon. He slipped and slid down the hill. “Stop! Put your hands in the air.”

Peters twisted toward Chase with a 9mm Glock fitted with a noise suppressor aimed at him.

Chase dove to the side as bullets whizzed past him, so close the air heated. Staying in motion, he rolled to one knee, sighted down the barrel of his weapon and fired. The loud retort echoed over the mountain and battered against his eardrum.

The bullet hit its mark.

For a moment, the assassin’s eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open as red bloomed across his white shirt. Then he stumbled back a step, taking Jane with him. The heel of his shoe dislodged a landslide of loose dirt falling to the bottom of the ravine.

Fear choked Chase. Jane was about to go over the cliff with her assailant. “Let go of him!”

Immediately, she responded to his command and released her hold on Peters’s legs, scrambling backward seconds before the man took a nosedive down the side of the cliff, disappearing from sight.

Sending a quick praise to God for Jane’s safety and asking forgiveness for taking a life, Chase hurried to Jane’s side and gathered her in his arms. She clung to him, her body shaking. Through the ringing in his ears, he heard her racking sobs. Her tears soaked the front of his uniform. Chase’s heart beat in his throat. He thought he might be sick.

A landslide of rocks sounding from above jolted through him. He jerked his gaze up to the cliff as he tucked Jane behind him.

Daniel slid down the rocky hill much the way Chase had done. Chase let out a compressed breath of relief.

“Wow,” Daniel said as he skidded to a halt. “Clean shot. I saw the whole thing. You good?”

His ears still ringing from discharging his weapon, Chase made out the gist of what Daniel said, though his voice sounded muffled. Chase nodded as he sucked in air, working to calm his racing pulse. Later, he’d deal with the aftermath of taking a life.

Daniel stepped past Chase and peered over the edge of the cliff. He whistled and turned to stare at Chase. “That’s a long way down.” He moved away from the ledge. “I better call the sheriff and tell him we need a recovery team. You okay to get her up the hill?”

“We’ll manage.” Chase helped Jane to her feet. He met her terrified gaze. “Take it slow and steady.”

He wrapped an arm around her waist and they made the arduous climb up the incline. They ended up having to crawl on hands and knees to keep their center of gravity low, until they reached the guardrail. Chase lifted Jane over the metal rungs and set her on the gravel of the turnout. Then he climbed over, grateful for the stable ground.

Jane wrapped her arms around her middle; her lips trembled and tears streaked down her face. “Are you okay?”

“I am.” His hearing was returning and his heart rate had slowed. “You? Did he hurt you?”

“I’ll have some bruises.” She stared at him, her eyes wide. “You saved my life.”

The wonder in her tone scored him to the quick. “If I had been better at my job, you wouldn’t have been in the situation in the first place.”

“This is not your fault.” There was compassion in her tone. “He was a police officer, too.”

Chase shook his head. “No. He was an imposter.”

Her eyes widened in shock. She let out a shuddering breath. “If you hadn’t come along...”

“But I did.” And he was thankful for that small favor from God. He gestured toward his vehicle. “Let’s get you inside my car where you can feel safe.”

He hustled her to the back of the Sheriff’s Department vehicle and opened the door for her. She hesitated, most likely remembering the last time somebody told her to get into an SUV.

“Trust me,” he murmured.

She glanced over her shoulder at him, her pretty eyes intense. “I want to.” There was doubt in her voice, but she climbed inside the vehicle without further comment.

Warmth expanded within his chest. At this point he’d take whatever confidence she’d give him, even though he didn’t deserve it. The sound of sirens punctuated the air. “Stay put, okay? Let us sort this out.”

She settled in the seat. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He left the door open so she wouldn’t feel trapped and hurried to meet the sheriff, Deputy Alex Trevino, Kaitlyn and the EMT.

Taking a deep breath as the adrenaline letdown coursed through his body, Chase’s legs wobbled. He tucked his thumbs into his utility belt so no one would see that his hands trembled, as well. He’d shot and killed a man.

Not something he’d ever hoped to actually do. Oh, he trained for it. They all did. Aimed for center mass as he’d been taught. Maybe if he’d shot Peters in the leg or the shoulder... He gave himself a sharp internal shake. He could’ve easily missed a smaller target or hit Jane. And Peters’s next bullet could’ve torn through Chase’s skull. No, he’d done the right thing.

The sheriff and Alex climbed out of the sheriff’s vehicle and strode toward him. Kaitlyn joined them, having driven her own personal truck with the horse trailer behind it.

Putting his hand on Chase’s shoulder, the sheriff said, “Daniel filled us in on what happened. Are you okay?”

Standing tall, Chase nodded. “Yes, sir. I will be. A little shaken.”

Empathy shone in his boss’s gaze. “That’s to be expected. You did well.”

The sheriff’s praise slide inside of Chase, bolstering his confidence. “Thank you, sir.”

“Alex will escort you and Miss Thompson back to the station.” Sheriff Ryder turned to Kaitlyn. “You know what to do.”

“Yes, sir.” Kaitlyn’s hazel eyes were kind as she shifted her gaze to Chase. “I’m glad you and Jane are unharmed. Please tell her I’ll check in with her later.”

Mild surprise washed over Chase. He hadn’t known that Kaitlyn and Jane were close. “I will. How did you know to bring your horse?”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Hey, when somebody heads up the mountain with a hostage in tow, you never know when a horse might come in handy. I figured if the kidnapper took Jane deep into the forest, it would be best to be prepared to follow.”

As she strode away, Chase marveled again at being blessed to be a part of the Bristle Township Sheriff’s Department. Each team member was smart, competent and trustworthy. He could not have asked for better people to work with. They were like family.

“I’ll drive,” Alex said. He hopped into the front seat of the SUV Chase had driven up the mountain.

Not wanting to alarm Jane, Chase slid into the back seat next to her and shut the door. Jane was watching Kaitlyn ride by on her horse, a big roan with a black mane and tail. The pair stopped for a moment. Kaitlyn appeared tiny on top of the huge beast. Her blond ponytail hung down the back of her brown uniform.

“What’s she doing?” Jane asked, leaning forward to watch Kaitlyn through the SUV’s front window.

“Plotting out her course down the side of the mountain,” Alex supplied as he started the engine.

Kaitlyn steered the large animal to the left, skirting around the metal barricade and slowly began a crisscrossed descent down the side of the hill until she disappeared from sight.

“Okay.” Jane turned her troubled gaze to Chase. “But why is she doing that?”

“She’s going to locate the body. And help coordinate the recovery from down below,” Chase answered without sugarcoating the work that would need to be done.

Surprise widened her eyes. “Is that safe for her to do?”

“Kait’s an accomplished horsewoman and a member of the mounted patrol,” Alex replied from the front seat. “Her family breeds and trains horses. Plus, she knows this mountain like the back of her hand. She grew up here, unlike me or Chase.”

“The sheriff wouldn’t have asked her to do this if he weren’t confident in her abilities,” Chase added. “All the members of the mounted patrol are highly trained. With terrain like we have here, there are places only accessible by horseback.”

“Are you on the mounted patrol?” Jane asked.

Chase met Alex’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “Not yet. Alex has been teaching me how to ride. One day I hope to be trained enough to join the patrol. But for now I’m content to be ground support to the others.”

“Leslie offered to give me a riding lesson,” Jane said.

“You should take her up on the offer,” Chase said. “She’s an auxiliary member of the mounted patrol.”

“Auxiliary?”

“A fancy term for volunteer,” he told her. Like many western state mounted patrols, the members were a mix of paid law enforcement and trained, unarmed civilians.

“Perhaps I’ll take a riding lesson.” Jane turned to stare out the window. “If I live long enough to.”

He didn’t like to hear the despair in her tone. “You’re safe, Jane.”

She shook her head. “No, I’m not.” She faced him. There was determination in her expression. “That man was sent to kill me. There will be more. I have to leave Bristle Township. Disappear again.”

“You can’t,” he told her. “You said you wanted to be brave and do the right thing.”

“I don’t want to die,” she said.

How did he get her to trust that they could protect her?

He needed to know what they were dealing with and why so they could form a plan to keep her safe. “Tell me about the night you witnessed a murder.”

Dread twisted low in Ashley’s gut. She blew out a breath. Dredging up the nightmare wasn’t something she wanted to do but there was no way around it. Chase had to know about the monster after her. And once he learned the truth, he’d want nothing more to do with her. He’d be happy to let her slither away into the shadows.

She flicked a glance at the intimidating man named Alex in the front seat, wishing she were alone with Chase. But then again, maybe it was better that they both hear this so she wouldn’t have to repeat it. “I was waitressing at an upscale restaurant in Burbank, The Matador.”

Chase’s eyebrows drew together. “It recently burned down, right?”

Her chest tightened. She lifted the restricting seat belt strap away from her body to suck in air. “Yes. It was reported on the news. I’m sure the fire was set because of me.”

“Why would you think that?” Alex asked from the driver’s seat.

She let out a small dry laugh. “Because the only person injured was the man who helped me escape California.”

Chase’s intense gaze locked with hers. “Did your friend know you were here in Bristle?”

Shaking her head, she said, “No. I was so careful.” Remorse swamped her. “Until this morning.”

“What did you do this morning?” Chase asked.

“I called the hospital where my friend was taken.” She wiped at fresh tears slipping down her cheeks. “I had to know if he was alive.”

“Is he?” Chase’s intense gaze locked with hers.

“For now,” she said. “He’s in critical condition.”

Sympathy crossed Chase’s face. “Were you able to talk to him?”

“No. And I didn’t leave a name or number,” she said. “I don’t know how they found me. But they did.”

“Probably tapped the hospital phone and traced the call,” Alex supplied.

Her stomach knotted. She should have thought of that. Another move that put her life in jeopardy.

“Let’s go to a year and a half ago,” Chase urged. “What happened?”

With one hand, she pinched the bridge of her nose, forcing herself to go back to that horrible night. Her heart rate picked up as she spoke. “We were going through our closing duties like any other night. I went to take the trash out to the dumpster in the back.”

She pressed her lips together for a moment as a flush of anger robbed her of speech. Finding her voice, she continued, “I forgot to put the doorstop in the door.” She couldn’t keep the self-recrimination from her voice. “If I had just remembered to prop the door open.” She pounded her fist against her thigh. “I forgot and the door locked behind me.”

His hand covered her fist. “Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself. Everyone makes mistakes.”

She glanced over at him and stifled a scoff. “A mistake that could get me killed.”

“Not going to happen. Not on my watch.”

She wanted to believe him, but there was no way he could make such a promise. Though the sentiment was heartwarming to hear and to know he meant it filled her with tenderness. But he didn’t know her. And she feared if he ever really did, he’d think twice about his promises. “I’m always such a mess. I can never get anything right. I would have been fired from that job long ago if Gregor, the restaurant manager, hadn’t taken a shine to me.”

“A shine? Was this man taking advantage of you?”

His voice held a hard edge that startled her. His reaction gave her pause. But he was a cop. Of course his thoughts had gone to a dark place. She gave a quick shake of her head. “Oh, no. Gregor was more like a grandfather to all of us. I never knew my own grandparents. Gregor was kind and generous. He didn’t deserve to be hurt.”

Her words seemed to nullify the sharpness of moments before. “No, he didn’t if he was willing to risk his own life to protect you.” He considered her a moment. “You didn’t have a spouse or boyfriend to keep you safe?”

She tucked in her chin. “Oh, none of those. I mean, I’ve dated, but most men either consider me more of the sister type or the best friend type.”

He remained silent for a heartbeat, then said, “You took the trash out and then what happened?”

At his prompting, she refocused on telling her story. “There were people in the back alley.” She bit the inside of her lip as the memory assaulted her. “Mr. Sokolov was arguing with a man.”

“Who is Mr. Sokolov?”

“He owns the restaurant. I’d never seen the man he was arguing with. I tried to go back inside, but I was locked out, trapped.” The helpless, vulnerable sensation she’d experienced that night was back tenfold. She smoothed her hands over her thighs, needing something to do with her hands other than wringing them like some victim.

But let’s face it, she was a victim. A victim of being in the wrong place at the wrong time and seeing something that changed the course of her life.

“You must have been frightened.” The fingers of his right hand laced through hers.

She held on tight, absorbing some of his strength. He was a steadfast man like a giant oak that wind could neither bend nor break. “I would have had to walk right in the middle of their argument to go around to the front of the building and be let back inside.” She shuddered. “I shrank into the shadows of the garbage container, hoping they’d leave soon. But they lingered, continuing their arguing. Their voices were loud and angry.”

“You heard what they were saying?”

There was no mistaking the anticipation in his tone. She hated to disappoint him.

“Some, not all. Mr. Sokolov was yelling at the man about betrayal and trusting him when he should’ve known better.”

“This Sokolov character must have discovered the man was an undercover police officer,” Chase said.

She gasped. “I didn’t know. He wasn’t in uniform.” She tried to recall what the dead man wore. “He had on jeans, a T-shirt and baseball cap.”

“His clothing would make sense if he was undercover,” Chase said.

“Where was his backup?” Alex asked.

“That’s a good question,” Chase answered. “One we’ll have to ask Chief Macintosh.” Chase returned his attention to her. “Go on.”

“Mr. Sokolov reached underneath his coat and pulled out a gun.” The memory made her shrink a bit, her shoulders rounding and her chin dipping. She wanted to forget, to curl in a ball and pretend she hadn’t seen any of it.

“You saw this?” Alex asked.

“Yes.” She lifted her face and met Chase’s gaze. “He shot that man. I had to bite my fist to keep from screaming.”

Chase squeezed her hands.

Tears rolled down her cheeks. Anxiety fluttered in her chest. “The sight of that man crumbling to the ground and Mr. Sokolov stepping over the man he’d just killed like he was a piece of garbage will be forever etched in my brain.”

Now she could add watching the phony detective going over the side of the cliff. Definitely, the stuff of nightmares.

“So you ran away?”

“Not at first. After Mr. Sokolov was gone, I ran to the man to offer help. But he had no pulse. And there was so much blood.” She remembered gagging at the sight. “Then I heard a noise and ran back behind the garbage bin. Gregor found me there. He hustled me away from the restaurant.”

“Did someone remove the body?” Alex asked.

She glanced toward Alex and met his gaze in the rearview mirror. “I don’t know. I didn’t hear anyone else and I didn’t want to look again.”

Chase’s eyebrows dipped together. “How does Sokolov know you witnessed the crime?”

She’d wondered that, too. Had Gregor revealed her secret to Sokolov? No, wait. “Didn’t you say Peters, or whoever he was, had a photo of me leaving the back door of The Matador?”

“He did,” Chase answered. “But if you worked there, why wouldn’t they have known your name?”

She shrugged, sadness filling her chest. “I can only guess Gregor took me out of the system and that the others...” She swallowed back the choking sensation in her throat. “They must have covered for me.”

And risked their lives. For her. Why would anyone do that if that wasn’t their job? She couldn’t fathom it. But she couldn’t deny the warmth layering upon her fear. The people she’d worked with had protected her. There was no way for her to ever repay them.

“How long before the police arrived?” Alex asked.

She bit her lip. “I didn’t see any police.”

“Surely someone would have reported hearing a gunshot,” Chase stated.

She cocked her head, trying to recall more of that night. “It’s strange. I don’t remember hearing the gun go off.”

“The weapon could have had a noise suppressor like the guy today,” Chase told her. “But even those make a sound that would have likely echoed through the alley.”

She didn’t know what to say to that. She’d been frightened, her heart pounding so loud in her ears and her breathing labored from terror.

“What did you hear?” Chase pressed.

“I—I don’t recall.” She searched her mind, desperate to dredge up some answer, but there was nothing, just the looping images and the residual fear. “It was a year and a half ago. But I know what I saw.”

“Are you sure it was Sokolov who fired the fatal shot?” Alex asked, as he parked the vehicle in front of the sheriff’s station, a brick two-story structure that had been rebuilt after a fire last year.

Ashley couldn’t see any signs of the damage done by the blaze. The image of The Matador flittered through her thoughts and grief over what was lost twisted in her chest. “Yes.” There was no doubt in her mind about Mr. Sokolov’s guilt.

Alex twisted in his seat to study her. “Did the other guy have a weapon?”

She shook her head, embarrassed for not knowing the answer. “Not that I noticed.”

“Why didn’t you go to the police?” Chase asked. “That would have been the best course of action.”

Stung by his words and the fact that she hadn’t done the best course of action, she tried to explain. “I wanted to. Once the shock of it all wore off, my first instinct was to run to the nearest police station.” Her lips twisted. “But Gregor... He said I couldn’t trust the police. Mr. Sokolov owned too many of them. Gregor said I couldn’t trust anyone.”

“But you trusted Gregor,” Chase pointed out.

Ashley detected a hint of complaint in his voice. “I did. He was my friend and had helped me. But he couldn’t protect me long-term. Mr. Sokolov was cruel. Gregor had a scar on his face given to him by Mr. Sokolov when he’d let one of the waiters leave early because his child was sick. Everyone was afraid of Mr. Sokolov.”

“Why did any of you stay there?” Alex asked, his gaze genuinely puzzled.

She shrugged. “He paid well.” She focused back at Chase, taking comfort in his attention. “And when Mr. Sokolov wasn’t around, it was a great place to work.”

Chase’s gaze intensified. “Then why run?”

Her chin dropped a fraction. “Gregor said my only option to stay alive was to run, keep moving and never look back. Mr. Sokolov would kill me and everyone I loved.”

A scowl dipped Chase’s eyebrows together as if he didn’t like what she’d said. Neither did she. Being on the run, looking over her shoulder, constantly afraid had wreaked havoc with her mind.

“How did you survive this last year and a half?” Chase asked.

“Gregor gave me some cash, and the identification of a woman my approximate age and height and put me on a bus for New Mexico.” Those first few days were beyond stressful.

His gaze narrowed. He slid his hands from hers. “Wait, are you telling me you’re not Jane Thompson?”

The moment she’d dreaded had arrived. It was said that the truth will set you free, but she had a sickening quiver in the pit of her stomach that, in this case, the truth would condemn her. Would he still want to help her, knowing she’d deceived him and everyone else?

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