Joanna Wayne - Showdown at Shadow Junction

Once in place, she turned gently. Nothing moved except the paper clip.

She tried again, just the way number four had shown her, push and turn. This time her fingers slipped from the paper clip and it fell to the floor and bounced under the table.

Her nerves were frayed to the point of breaking. But she couldn’t give up.

Down on her knees again, she spotted and retrieved the paper clip. This time she sat down on the bed and tried to calm her anxiety to the point her hands weren’t trembling.

Nice and easy. Fit the end of the paper clip into the lock and firmly turn.

She squealed when the handcuffs clicked open. No worry. No one was around to hear.

Free from bondage. Jade’s spirits rebounded, reviving her energy and her brain. She raked the items into her open handbag, picked up her shoes by the narrow straps and rushed to the door.

It was locked tight.

The bastard.

Grim determination took hold. She’d get out of here if she had to dig the door lock off with the dull knife. And then she’d probably find that he’d fit some kind of brace across the door to make sure she couldn’t open it.

Think positive. Pray.

She did both as she went back for the paper clip. She looped the handbag’s wristband and the shoes straps around the doorknob to free her hands as she worked on the lock.

A huge clap of thunder rattled the windows. A few seconds later, the lights went out, leaving the room in pitch-darkness. Even the weather was contriving against her. If she dropped the paper clip now, she might never find it.

The next clap of thunder sounded as if it was going to tear the house apart.

Jade took a deep breath. She had to do this. She had to get out of here. Using her fingers as a guide, she worked to fit the clip back into the lock. Her grip was tight and sure as she turned it in the lock.

Another clap of thunder.

No.

This time it wasn’t thunder. It was the slamming of a car door. Reggie was back. He’d be furious when he discovered she’d gotten out of the handcuffs. But not nearly as violent as he’d become when they reached the hotel and she couldn’t produce the necklace.

Panic rushed through her in waves. Maybe someone else had found the necklace. Maybe he was back merely to kill her and there would be no other chance for escape.

The paper clip slipped from her fingers. She rushed back to the bed and grabbed the knife. She had to try something. She wasn’t ready to die.

Stepping behind the door, she held the rusty-bladed knife over her head, poised to strike the second Reggie opened the door and stepped into the room.

One chance. One split-second chance to plunge the knife into the dirty cop’s back and hope it at least slowed him down enough she could make a run for freedom.

The doorknob turned and someone stepped inside, letting in light from the hallway. Life or death. This was it.

Without being able to see a face, Jade struck, pushing the knife through clothes, skin and muscle with all the strength she could muster.

“You bitch.” Reggie screamed a stream of vile curses.

She’d hit her mark, put the knife right between the shoulder blades, but not nearly as deep as she’d been going for.

Reggie didn’t fall, but staggered a few steps and then grabbed on to the bedpost. Blood from the wound wet the back of his shirt and dripped down his trousers.

Jade didn’t dare go for his car keys. With only her instincts for survival to rely on, she yanked her purse from the doorknob and took off running. She tripped over an open duffel that had been left on the floor between the kitchen table and a filthy orange sofa. Somehow she managed to stay upright.

By the time she reached the front door, she could hear Reggie’s footsteps behind her, slower than normal but still coming.

She yanked open the front door. The rain was pouring from an almost black sky. But there on a table right near the door was a large shopping bag and a dingy gray raincoat, dripping wet but with Reggie’s keys dangling from the pocket.

She grabbed the bag and the keys without stopping. Now, if his car would only start and not crank uselessly the way it always happened in horror movies.

She looked back as she climbed into the car. Reggie was still coming, his gait like a drunken Frankenstein’s, his eyes glazed like a madman’s.

She slipped the keys into the ignition and the beautiful hum of an engine met her ears. She drove away in the storm, having no idea where she’d go.

She had to think this through, had to go somewhere she could slow down and regroup. Somewhere far away from New York where the media was surely playing up the story of Quaid’s murder and splashing her picture all over newspapers and TV.

She needed to head for the last place anyone would expect her to show up.

Only one possibility came to mind.

A place with cows and mosquitoes, wasps and skunks—the four-legged kind. And rattlesnakes and big, hairy spiders. Her mother had told her about those.

The Dry Gulch Ranch, home of R.J. Dalton—her dear old dad.

He’d never been much of a father before. This would be his chance to shine.

Chapter Five Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Extract Copyright

Two days and a lifetime of fear and anxiety later, Jade stepped off a plane at the Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport. She’d boarded the flight with trepidation, sure any second someone would recognize her in spite of her horrid wig and fake ID.

Even after she’d taken her seat and the plane had lifted into the air, she’d worried that somehow Reggie had tracked her and would be waiting when she approached the gate. After all, he had all the power and authority of the NYPD behind him.

She’d come close to calling the police herself, but whenever she did, she remembered the look on Reggie’s face when he’d come after her, a trail of blood behind him.

Dread all but paralyzed her and she stopped halfway through the Jetway. People pulling luggage and shouldering bulky backpacks jostled her as they maneuvered past. She didn’t move until the passengers had all exited and the flight attendants were walking toward her.

Finally she started walking again. Relief surged through her as she stepped into the gate area. No one was waiting for her. No one even gave her a second look. She checked the signs and started in the direction of baggage claim and ground transportation.

When she’d flown to Dallas almost two years ago, she rented a car and drove to the Dry Gulch Ranch. This time she was out of cash. The plane ticket had taken the last of the money in her wallet and she didn’t dare use the ATM for fear Reggie was having it monitored.

She could probably take a taxi and let R.J. pay once she reached the Dry Gulch. Or she could risk hitchhiking as she’d done from New York to Atlanta, catching rides with truckers from one town and truck stop to the next.

But it was already after 7:00 p.m. and she was stressed to the breaking point. Climbing in another 18-wheeler with a stranger would surely push her over the edge. All she wanted was a safe place to close her eyes and sleep.

Following a stream of passengers, she crowded onto the escalator, her only luggage the shopping bag that held her strappy heels a toothbrush and toothpaste.

She was wearing the hideous black wig, a pair of black-rimmed glasses, the shoes and the shirt and jeans she’d found in Reggie’s shopping bag.

The bloody dress was in a restroom at a truck stop back in Philly.

Once off the escalator, she started walking toward the taxi stop, still with no clear plan in mind. She spotted two men loitering next to that exit, both staring at her. Panic hit so swiftly she grew dizzy.