Patricia Davids - Speed Trap

Mandy shook her head at the nurse. “It was just luck.”

“It was by the grace of God, young lady. Would you like to hold him? I have to get back to my other patients.”

Taking the baby carefully, Mandy held his small, warm body close. It felt so right and natural to hold him in her arms.

Perhaps one day she would have a child of her own. But she was stuck in a small town where even the bravest of men hesitated to ask the sheriff on a date.

Sometimes it was hard always being the one in charge. Always looking to right wrongs. She would never be able to give this little boy his mother back, but she could see that justice was done. Someone had tried to kill this beautiful boy. Someone had left him an orphan on purpose. She wouldn’t let them get away with it.

“I’ll find out who killed your mother. I promise.”

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continues to work as a part-time nurse in the NICU while writing full-time. She enjoys researching new stories, traveling to new locations and meeting fans along the way. She and her husband of thirty-two years live in Wichita, Kansas, along with the newest addition to the household, a stray cat named Spooky. Pat always enjoys hearing from her readers. You can contact her by mail at P.O. Box 16714, Wichita, Kansas 67216, or visit her on the Web at www.patriciadavids.com.

Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things have become new.

—2 Corinthians 5:17

To my brothers, all four of you, for making me

the toughest girl in Navarre grade school.

May God bless and keep each one of you.

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

EPILOGUE

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

The black skid marks on the highway ended abruptly at a shattered guardrail. There was only empty space beyond.

Sheriff Mandy Scott maneuvered her white SUV to a stop before the break and mentally prepared herself for what lay over the edge.

It wouldn’t be good.

Someone had found one of the worst spots in Morrison County to run his or her car off the road.

Mandy silenced her siren but left the light bar flashing. Grasping the radio mic, she reported in. “Dispatch, I’m on the scene.”

Donna Clareborn, the county dispatcher, replied, “Copy that, Sheriff. Was Mr. Tobin right? Is there a fatality?”

“I don’t know yet.”

The accident had been called in by an elderly local rancher. Mandy saw his green pickup truck sitting a dozen yards down the highway, but Emmett was nowhere in sight.

“Fire rescue and EMS are on the way.” A slight quiver in Donna’s normally professional voice revealed her apprehension.

Mandy felt the same way. In a small community like Timber Wells, the victim could easily be someone they knew.

Grabbing her first-aid kit and fire extinguisher, Mandy left her vehicle. The early morning wind greeted her with the fresh scent of prairie grass and spring wildflowers before the stench of burning oil overpowered it. Mandy looked over the broken railing into the ravine.

Thirty feet below, a crumpled red car rested upside down in the dry creek bed. Spirals of gray smoke rose from the mangled front end.

Emmett Tobin sat in the grass a few feet from the vehicle. His gray head was bowed, his shoulders slumped. He held his sweat-stained Stetson between his hands.

Mandy sucked in a steadying breath, then made her way down the steep rocky slope.

Emmett looked up at her approach. “She’s gone, Sheriff. There weren’t nothing I could do.”

Mandy laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You stayed with her, Emmett. That’s something. I’ll take it from here.”

She didn’t doubt his findings, but she had to check for herself. Leaving him, she approached the car. The air near the vehicle reeked of gasoline, burned rubber and hot oil. She cast a worried glance at the smoke curling out of the engine block.

Moving around the car, Mandy found the driver’s side door had been flung open. A woman with short blond hair lay sprawled on her back beside it. She wore jeans and a bloodstained yellow shirt.

Kneeling beside the body, Mandy checked for a pulse and found none.

“Sheriff, you’d better get away from that car,” Emmett called out sharply.

Mandy glanced up to see the smoke from the engine had become a thick black column with flames flickering at the base. It was then she heard a whimper—a tiny cry almost lost in the wind.

Was there someone still inside?

Mandy aimed her extinguisher at the burning engine. “Emmett, I need your help!”

Hurrying to her side, Emmett accepted the red canister Mandy thrust at him. Leaving him to deal with the flames, she knelt and peered inside the crushed vehicle. All she saw was a wadded-up blanket behind the passenger’s seat, but she heard another muffled cry.

The driver’s body was blocking Mandy’s way. Slipping her hands under the woman’s arms, Mandy dragged the body a few feet away. She could hear sirens now. The fire truck was almost here.

Emmett continued aiming bursts of CO2 at the engine. The flames leaped higher. One extinguisher wouldn’t be enough. The whole car could go up any second.

Breathing a quick prayer, Mandy ducked inside and began wiggling across the ceiling of the upside-down vehicle.

“Sheriff, what are you doing?” Emmett yelled. “I looked in. I didn’t see nobody else.”

“I hear crying. It sounds like a baby.”

Broken glass covered everything. It bit into Mandy’s elbows and stomach as she crawled. She could feel the heat of the fire. Smoke stung her eyes and scorched her lungs with each breath she was forced to take.

Behind the passenger’s seat, she pushed aside a patchwork quilt and discovered a baby buckled into a car seat that had come loose. The child whimpered pitifully.

“You need to get out of there,” Emmett shouted.

Barely able to move in the tight space, Mandy worked frantically to unbuckle the remaining straps holding the child in the seat. Fear made her fingers clumsy.

Don’t think about the fire. Get this child out.

The hiss and pop of the flames grew louder. The metal in the roof supports groaned as the weight of the car compressed them. If they crumpled a few more inches she would be trapped.

Tugging again at the fastener, she wished she had a knife, anything to cut the nylon straps.

God, please let me save this child.

Finally, the reluctant buckle clicked open. As Mandy pulled the baby loose, he cried out in pain.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, swaddling the blanket over him to protect him from the smoke. Cradling him close, she began to wiggle backward.