Terri Reed - Secret Mountain Hideout

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.