Delores Fossen - Secret Delivery

She maneuvered the car around a sharp curve. The tires squealed in protest at the excessive speed, and she checked the mirror again. The other vehicle stayed right with her, the high-beam headlights glaring into her eyes.

It certainly wasn’t safe to race through a raging summer storm at ten o’clock at night, but she didn’t want to face that guard on this deserted road. She had no weapon, no way to defend herself. Worse, she was exhausted and wondered if she’d be able to stand, much less fight.

Ahead of her, she finally saw the town lights. Welcome signs of civilization and help.

Going even faster, she sped toward Main Street, flanked on both sides with shops, a diner, even a white church with a steeple. Letting some vague, fuzzy memories guide her, she drove toward the center of the tiny town and spotted the sheriff’s office.

Alana braked to a stop, glanced behind her and saw nothing. No car. No headlights.

No one.

Relief flooded through her. Maybe the guard had gotten scared and driven away. Still, she didn’t just sit there. He might be lurking on a side street, waiting to grab her and take her back to that house in the woods.

Rain pelted her when she got out of the car. She was already cold and shivering, and the wetness didn’t help. Alana ran toward the glass-front door of the sheriff’s office. Each step was an effort. Her muscles were stiff, her hands throbbed from where she’d gripped the steering wheel and the dizziness was worse than it had been during her escape.

Why did everything seem out of focus? And wrong. Something was wrong. But what?

She threw open the door, and the burst of air from the AC spilled over her. It was dark in the front section of the building, but there was a light on in a room at the middle of a short narrow hall.

“Sheriff Whitley?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

She saw something move in the shadows, and a moment later, a man stepped out. Alana got just a glimpse of him before another stab of lightning flashed in the sky and the lights went out.

Oh, mercy. Had the guard done this? Was he coming after her?

“Calm down,” the man said. It was Jack Whitley’s voice. “If you keep breathing like that, you’ll hyperventilate and I’m fresh out of paper bags.” She heard his footsteps come closer. “You afraid of the dark?”

“No.” Her voice still had little sound.

“Well, not to worry,” Jack said as if he didn’t believe her. “The storm must have knocked out the town’s transformer, but we have a generator. It’ll kick on in a minute or two.”

He came closer still, and she caught his scent. He smelled like coffee and chocolate cake. “Did your car break down?”

Alana’s teeth started to chatter. And she glanced back at the door to make sure the guard wasn’t there. “Someone was following me.”

Even though she couldn’t see his reaction, she could feel it. He tensed and hurried past her to go to the door. “I don’t see anyone,” he said, looking out. “Is that your car parked out front?”

“No.”

She was about to explain, but something else about him changed. The silence was heavy, making it easier to hear him draw his gun.

“I’m pretty sure the license plate matches a vehicle that was reported stolen just about an hour ago,” he informed her. “The owner said the person who stole it—a woman—should be considered armed and dangerous. I’m guessing you’re that woman, huh?”

Her heart jolted. Dizziness came again, and she had to lean against the wall to keep from falling.

This was certainly a complication Alana hadn’t expected. That guard had some nerve to report his car stolen after he’d held her captive. And better yet—to call her armed and dangerous. The guard had been the one with the gun.

“I did steal the car,” she admitted. “But I had to. They were holding me captive.”

“They?” It was his cop’s voice. Laced with skepticism and authority.

“A guard and a nurse. I don’t know their names, but I can describe them.” Well, she could if she didn’t pass out first. “They held me at a house in the woods for…a long time. But I escaped.”

“How’d you manage to do that?” He didn’t believe that, either. She could tell from his tone.

“I spit out some of the meds they always gave me at night. And I pretended to fall asleep. Then I sneaked out of my bedroom, grabbed the guard’s keys and ran. I drove away before he could stop me. But there must have been another car somewhere on the grounds, and he used it to come after me.”

Jack Whitley made a sound that could have meant anything. “I need you to turn around and place your hands flat against the wall.”

“You’re arresting me?” She clamped her teeth over her bottom lip to keep it from shaking. Too bad she couldn’t do something to stop the rest of her body from trembling. Mercy, she was freezing.

“I’m placing you in custody,” he corrected, “until I can get this straightened out. Go ahead. Hands on the wall. I need to search you.”

Alana had no idea what else to do, so she complied. The painted concrete block wall was smooth against her palms, and she rested her head against it, as well, hoping it’d help her think straight.

The overhead fluorescent lights crackled on, and she heard him walk closer. “Legs slightly apart,” he ordered. “And don’t make any sudden moves.”

Alana held her breath while he ran his left hand over her wet cotton nightgown. Down her bare legs, all the way to her equally bare feet. He repeated the process on the inside of her legs and thighs. She made a slight involuntary hitching sound when the back of his hand brushed her there. It was a reminder for her that she wasn’t wearing any panties.

The sheriff made a similar sound, but his was more of surprise. Maybe now he’d believe that she had truly escaped with literally just the gown on her back.

“I think you’ve got a fever,” he let her know. “You might be sick.”

A fever. That might explain why she felt so horrible.

“Turn around, slowly,” he said, his voice a little gentler now. “We’ll go into my office, and you can sit down. If you’re not feeling better after a few minutes, I can drive you to the hospital and have your temperature checked.”

Alana did turn, but she kept her weight against the wall in case her legs gave way. She got her first good look at the man she had thought she could trust. Now she wasn’t so sure.

It was Jack Whitley all right.

She recognized that midnight-black hair. Those intense gunmetal-blue eyes. He wore jeans and a white shirt with his badge clipped onto a wide leather belt with a rodeo buckle. Definitely a cowboy cop in both appearance and attitude.

“I told you the truth about being held hostage,” Alana insisted.

But if he heard her, there was no indication of it. His eyes widened, then narrowed. “Alana Davis?” he snarled.

“You remember me.” The intense look in his eyes was scaring her.

“Yeah. I remember you.”

Too bad she couldn’t recall exactly what she’d done to rile him. And there was no mistaking that she’d done just that. “You helped me.”

He glared at her. “Eight months ago, I pulled you from your car when you went over the bridge at Mill’s Creek.”

Yes. Images flashed through her mind. Icy water. She couldn’t breathe. Trapped in her car. She tried to make the pieces fit and finally nodded. “You saved my life.”

He didn’t take his eyes off her. “And you ran away from the hospital the first chance you got. You didn’t tell anyone why you were leaving or where you were going.”

Alana didn’t remember that at all. Why would she have done that?

“Look, I don’t know what game you’re playing, or why you showed up here like this. But it doesn’t matter,” he stated. “You’re not getting Joey back.”