Projects in the works
I have a bunch…LOL.
But today, it’s all about Kaycee…:)
Kaycee is the heroine of my latest romantic suspense/menage-a-trios, Their One and Only.
I’ve posted an excerpt below, but be forwarned. It gets violent.
Hope you enjoy.
Chapter One
“Perfect. Now turn that way, toward my assistant and smile for me.”
Kaycee Alcott turned toward Murphy and smiled softly. Murphy grinned back, almost making her giggle with the goofy looking faces he kept shooting her way. This was her fifth photo shoot with Jean Claude and she knew what he wanted as far as a smile. She loved working with him. He was congenial, clear on his instructions and quick to give praise when she did as he wanted.
As a top photographer in the modeling world, he photographed huge names, but for this project, he’d specifically asked for her, which made her all the more determined to do her best. The last thing she wanted to do was disappoint Jean Claude after specifically asking for her.
“Let me see a little more of that gorgeous thigh, Kaycee,” he said and she used her hand to slide the split in the skirt further to the side. “Perfect.”
The camera kept clicking, the sound barely heard over Jean Claude’s orders about lighting and wind position. She was thankful for the fan as it blew a soft breeze in her face, cooling the flesh the lights warmed up. A photography studio could be as much as twenty degrees hotter than anywhere else because of all the equipment.
Jean Claude stopped and spread his arms wide, smiling from ear to ear. “Beautiful as always, Kaycee,” he purred in a soft French accent. “We’re all done.”
“Already?” she asked in surprise, then glanced down at the soft pink sundress she’d worn for the shoot. “I couldn’t by any chance sneak this out, could I?” She glanced at him through her lashes.
“I did not see a thing,” he said, fiddling with his camera, his French accent heavy. “She wore her coat when she left, how was I to know what was under it?”
Kaycee laughed and ran over to place a quick kiss on his cheek. “You’re a riot, Jean Claude. Thank you,” she added in a soft whisper.
He smiled, his green eyes crinkling at the corners and showing his advanced age. “You did an amazing job as always. As far as I’m concerned, you deserve the dress.”
Giving him her best grin, she turned and headed to the dressing area to gather her things. It wasn’t unusual for models to ‘take’ things from shoots. Some designers even expected it. At the make-up counter, she sat in the chair and reached for a moist cloth to clean her face. She’d sent her assistant home over an hour ago, since the shoot had taken place so late. No sense in both of them being bleary eyed for the runway rehearsal tomorrow morning.
With a tired sigh, Kaycee wiped away the mascara and dark lipstick, then brushed out her dark brown curls, securing them on top of her head with a scrunchie. Now that the shoot was over, fatigue began to sink in. Her bed is what she needed. That and about fifteen hours of uninterrupted sleep. This modeling pastime had turned into a full time job—one she had begun to wonder if she still wanted.
She’d never thought about being a model until an agent from Sloan Modeling approached her at a coffee shop just off the NYU campus. She’d been nineteen and skeptical. Not a lot had gone right in her life, and she’d been doubtful this would either. She’d almost skipped the meeting at the agency, thinking the whole thing had been a joke. But her friend, Jordan, had convinced her to and that friend was now her assistant.
At first, the shoots had been a way to pay for her college tuition, but then assignments began to come in so fast, she hadn’t been able to keep up with her classes and had to drop out her senior year. She resigned herself to the fact that she had enough money invested now, she could quit modeling and go back to school if she wanted. The only problem was, she didn’t know what she wanted to do anymore.
“No doubt about it,” she murmured, giving herself one final look in the mirror to make sure she’d gotten all the make-up. “I’m definitely in a funk.”
Standing, she pushed her arms through her coat and prepared to go out into the cold parking garage. Her fingers brushed over her scarf and a sad smiled tugged at her lips. The scarf had been her father’s—the only thing she had left of him and she never went anywhere cold without it. Both her parents had died when she was sixteen, leaving her alone with an aunt that had, at best, been distant. She’d worked hard to finish high school and get out of her aunt’s house.
With a tired sigh, she wrapped the scarf round her neck. There’s no point in thinking about the past and what should have been. She was on her own now, except for her best friend and assistant and she needed to accept it.
She grabbed her overnight bag, stuffed with her clothes from earlier, her make-up and hair rollers and headed out of the studio. “Good night, guys,” she called as she walked past Jean Claude and his assistants.
“Do you want me to walk out with you?” Jean Claude asked.
She shook her head. “No. I’ll be fine.”
“All right,” he said and waved. “Good night, then. I’ll send you a set of the proofs.”
“Thanks, Jean Claude,” she replied with a smile. “You’re the best.”
“Of course, I am,” he teased. “That’s why I get the best girls.”
He winked and she laughed, pushing the door open with her hip. A cold blast of air hit her as she walked across the parking lot toward her car, a sun-burnt orange, Chevy HHR. She’d tried to be smart about her money, investing most of it for when modeling was no longer an option. She didn’t need the flashy car or the huge house. Security was more her thing—financial security for her future.
After a quick glance around the deserted parking lot, she headed quickly toward her car. The cold night sky was clear, the stars sparkling above her like twinkling lights. Stopping at her car, she took a moment to breathe in the fresh winter air and admire the horizon.
A sharp pain in her thigh made her gasp and she turned to see a man looming over her. Fear tightened her chest as he held up a needle, his eyes shining in triumphant glee. She raised her hand to shove at the man, but her limbs felt heavy and her hand tangled in the wool of her scarf. In confused aggravation, she tugged, making it fall to the concrete.
Her heart should be hammering, but it seemed to slow, along with her thoughts. Fatigue deepened as the warmth of the drug spread through her body. No. She couldn’t let this happen. She couldn’t let him do this.
Taking a step forward, she latched onto his black coat as her legs wobbled beneath her. He just stood there, watching her with dark, eyes full of hatred and loathing. Why would he hate her? She squinted, wondering why she couldn’t make out his face. Lifting a hand, she brushed her fingers across wool and realized he wore a ski mask, making it impossible to see his features.
She tried to lift it as her vision blurred even more. Time moved in slow motion as her body took on the consistency of concrete, unmovable and so cold. With a shudder, her eyes closed and she fell into a deep darkness, too numb to even be afraid.
* * * * *
He watched as Kaycee slowly slid to the ground, her fingers still clutching at his jacket. He’d waited months for this opportunity. She was a hard person to catch alone.
His cock twitched in his pants as he imagined all the things he’d do to her. All the other women had just been for fun, honing his skills, curbing his hunger until he caught his one true target.
Kaycee Alcott would pay for turning her back on him, for leading him on then running like a scared rabbit the first time he tried to kiss her. His lip curled. He’d kiss her this time and a hell of a lot more.
* * * * *
“I’m glad the two of you could make it.”
Sam and Tyler Warren both turned to Agent Barreck as he stepped into the small room and dropped a scarf on the table. Barreck had called them at four this morning, wanting their physic input on a missing person’s case. Sam and his identical twin, Tyler had worked for the F.B.I. as registered psychics for almost twenty years now, since they were twelve, and had been responsible for solving over two hundred missing person’s cases. According to Barreck, however, this was more than just a missing persons. He believed this woman was taken by their most elusive serial killer. A man they’d dubbed the phantom.
Tyler and Sam had spent most of the last several months working a profile for this case. The phantom could get in, get a woman and get out without being seen by anyone. He left no clues, no evidence. Even the bodies he left behind were clean and left all over the eastern United States. He could pick a girl up in Myrtle Beach, then they would find her dead body in Kentucky. There was no pattern, no reason. The only thing the murders had in common were the girl’s looks.
They were stumped, but Barreck believed they may have caught a break. The kidnapper had left behind a scarf.
“How do you know it’s him?” Tyler asked, as he turned to study a haggard looking Barreck.
Barreck sighed and dropped into one of the leather conference chairs. “I don’t. Truthfully, I’m just guessing. That’s why I wanted you to take a look…” He waved his hand. “Or whatever it is you do and see if it’s his.”
“Who reported her missing?” Sam asked.
“Her assistant.” Barreck flipped through the file. “A Jordan Smith, when Kaycee didn’t show up for runway rehearsal this morning. The photographer found her car right where she’d left it the night before.”
“She’s a model?” Tyler asked
“Yes. Quite popular from what I understand.”
He pulled a photo from the file and passed it to Tyler. His gaze wandered over her china doll features and expressive emerald green eyes. She was definitely a beauty. Raising his eyebrow, he passed the photo to his brother, who whistled softly.
“She certainly fits the image of the others he’s taken. But isn’t she a little too high profile for him?” Sam asked with a frown.
“She could be who he’s been after all along,” Tyler offered with a shrug, then stood to pour himself more coffee from the pot at the far side of the room.
“Well,” Barreck sighed. “You’ve always thought he had a particular girl in mind.”
“They were too much alike. They either look like someone from his past or someone he wants.”
Sam nodded and handed Tyler his cup to fill as well. “My guess would be it’s someone he wants. He’s strayed from the norm by taking someone as high profile as Kaycee.”
“I agree,” Tyler said.
Barreck leaned forward and wiggled the scarf still lying on the table. “We don’t have a lot of time, guys. See if you can link up…” He waved his hand. “Or whatever it is you do.”
Sam snorted then reached out to finger the wool. “High dollar,” he murmured as his gaze studied the worn scarf. “And old. Worn”
Tyler sat slowly, hesitant to touch it and actually see into the killer’s mind. They’d only done it once and the experience had left Tyler with a bad taste in his mouth. He didn’t like what he saw, what he felt—the darker side of human nature. Insanity was frightening, but even more frightening was just how coldly calculating they could be—how cruel and angry.
Rubbing at his lips, Tyler sighed, then met his brother’s questioning gaze. He was sure Sam knew what fears held him in their grip. The two of them were like one person. They felt each other’s fear, each other’s conflicts. They even fell in love with the same women. If one loved a woman, then so did the other. It made dating difficult and the idea of marriage even more so.
“Tyler,” Sam said softly. “You don’t have to do this.”
“No,” Tyler replied shaking his head. “We need to so we can find her.”
Sam nodded and waited patiently for Tyler to touch the scarf as well. The link only worked if they were both touching it, but Tyler’s connection went deeper than Sam’s. His brother saw through the victim’s eyes. He could see what they saw. Tyler could as well, but he also felt what they felt. If they hurt, then so did he.
Reaching out, Tyler placed his hand on the wool, bracing himself. But what he sensed surprised him. It wasn’t anger. It was confusion. Fear.
“It’s not his,” Tyler whispered.
“What do you mean?” Barreck asked. “What are you seeing?”
Tyler closed his eyes, trying to focus. He felt sleepy and disoriented. She’d been drugged and was having difficulty waking up. “It’s hers and she’s still alive.”
* * * * *
Kaycee struggled to sit up, but couldn’t. Something kept her from moving. Grogginess fuddled her mind, kept her from remembering. Had she wrecked her car? She certainly felt like she had. Every part of her ached as though she’d been beaten. Her leg burned like she’d been stung by a bee, and her muscles felt weak and drained.
She tried to raise her hand to wipe at her eyes, but couldn’t. She tried the other one, but it too wouldn’t move but just a few scant inches. What? Her heart skipped in her chest as she tugged at the bindings holding her down. Opening her eyes, she stared at the rope surrounding her wrists. She blinked, trying to clear the blurry images and remember what happened.
There’d been a man. He’d drugged her with something.
Shaking her head, she tugged at the ropes again to no avail. Real fear began to settle in her chest as she glanced around the darkened room, her eyes still not fully able to focus clearly. She scooted down along the table, adjusting her body to reach the knot at her wrist with her teeth. Cold air drifted across her naked flesh, making her shiver and her fingers tremble. Her jaw ached as she tugged at the knots, the dirty taste of the rope filling her mouth. Lifting her head, she spit to the side, not wanting to swallow whatever might be on the rope.
A noise to her right made her freeze, her breath lodging in her throat. Raising her gaze, she searched the dark, damp room. Was there someone here with her? Beside the table she on which she was strapped, was another one. A light hung over it, illuminating the empty white sheet. She gasped as she noticed the dried blood covering the material, the silver surgical instruments lying at the foot.
Oh my, God.
Her gaze continued to scan, taking everything about the small room in. It actually wasn’t a room. It was a cave with rock walls and damp floors.
“This is insane,” she whispered, still in shock and disbelief.
How had she let this happen? She was smart, savvy. She knew how to protect herself so how had this guy sneaked up on her?
“I have to find a way out,” she murmured as she continued to scan the room and look for a possible way out and whoever had made the noise.
On the far wall rested a table with a pegboard above it. Pictures of women covered the board and Kaycee swallowed down the bile that threatened to choke her as the pictures slowly came into focus.
Oh my, God. Those are me.
Every one of the pictures were of her. Snap shots of her around New York, Boston. There were several of her magazine covers and ads. She swallowed down the hysteria that threatened to consume her. Whoever this man was, he’d been following her. Stalking her.
The noise again caught her attention and she quickly looked around, squinting into the dark corners. “Who’s there?” she demanded, her voice harsh and raw.
“Please,” a woman whimpered and Kaycee turned her head to her left.
Against the wall, chained in irons, laid a young woman. Her hair a matted mess, her eyes glazed over, her face swollen and bloody. Deep cuts and bruises covered her naked flesh, bringing tears to Kaycee’s eyes.
“Are you okay?” Kaycee asked. “Can you hear me?”
“I’m next,” she murmured, her words barely audible.
“What? What do you mean?” she asked, then resumed tugging at the ropes on her left wrist with her teeth, her gaze watching the young woman.
“When he brings a new girl in, he kills the old one. He killed the last one in front of me.”
Kaycee stopped tugging at the ropes and stared in shock. “He does what?”
“Now that you’re here, he’ll kill me. He’ll use my body to show you what he’ll do to you. And he’ll do it,” she slurred, her eyes falling closed.
“Wait, wait. No stay with me,” Kaycee demanded. “What’s your name?”
“Miranda.”
“I’m Kaycee,” she whispered. “And I’m going to get us out of here.”
“I can’t walk.” Miranda nodded to her oddly bent ankles.
Kaycee gasped at the girl’s swollen feet and lower legs. She would loose them if Kaycee didn’t get her help. But first she had to get untied. “I’ll help you out,” she said with more confidence than she felt. “Who is he?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen his face. He keeps it hidden.”
Fear gave her strength, determination as she worked frantically at the bindings biting into her flesh. Her wrists were raw and sore, the smell of blood and death began to fill her nostrils and she tried to breathe more through her mouth. She had to get out of here. She refused to die like this.
Finally the knot loosened and she giggled, out of her mind now from fear. “I’ve almost got it,” she murmured, then glanced over at Miranda. Her eyes were closed, her breathing shallow and harsh.
Oh, God please let me be able to get us out of here.
With one final tug, she loosened the ropes enough to slip her wrist out. With her free hand, she moved to loosen the other set of ropes around her right arm. Her fingers were shaking so badly, she could hardly work them and her lips had begun to tremble from the cold. After a few seconds, she was able to free her other hand and with a sigh of relief, she sat up.
The room spun off kilter, making her dizzy and nauseated. Leaning over the side of the table, she threw up what little was on her stomach. Dry heaves, wracked her body for several seconds before she was able to get it under control. She sat back up, this time more slowly, allowing her stomach time to adjust. Whatever drug he’d given her had really done a number on her body.
Swinging her legs to the side, she set her bare feet on the ice-cold floor. She hissed as the cold shock worked its way up her legs, settling in her bones. Taking a deep breath, she fought off the second wave of nausea and stood. She took a step forward, then almost fell as the room again began to spin. She reached out, placing her hand against the stone wall beside her to steady herself.
This was nuts. She’d never get herself out of here at this rate, much less both of them. She blinked, trying to focus her mind and keep the dizziness at bay. She had to get to the woman.
Tyler gasped as the wave of nausea gripped him. Turning his head, he vomited in the trashcan close by, his hand holding tight to the scarf between him and his brother.
“You all right, Tyler?” Barreck asked in concern. “What happened?”
“She’s been drugged. She’s sick,” Tyler coughed, then spit into the can.
“You’re sick because she’s sick?” Barreck asked in surprise.
Tyler nodded, then sat back up, trying to numb his body to what she felt. “Stay with her, Sam,” he whispered and his brother nodded.
“She’s free. She’s trying to get to the other girl.”
“There’s another girl?” Barreck asked.
Tyler nodded, then closed his eyes, trying to recapture the images. “She’s chained up. She shouldn’t do it.”
“She’s going to,” Sam said.
“She’s going to what?” Barreck asked in exasperation.
“She’s going to try and get her out,” Tyler said, shaking his head against the dizziness. “She’ll never make it with her. She’s too badly hurt and if Kaycee feels like I do, she can hardly walk.”
“Where are they?”
Sam shook his head. “I can’t tell. They’re in a cave, but I have no way of knowing where.”
Barreck slammed his hand on the table. “Damn it!”
Kaycee staggered toward Miranda. Her legs were so wobbly, so weak she could hardly stand, but she had to do this. She couldn’t leave her behind. Kneeling by her side, she tugged at the iron bracelets around her wrists. Miranda whimpered and shied away in fear.
“It’s okay. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Your wrists, they’re so badly cut and raw.”
“That’s the least of my pains,” she whispered.
Now that Kaycee was this close to her, she got a good look at her injuries. Several of her teeth were gone, her eyes were blood red and swollen, her face so badly contorted they would probably never be able to identify her. Tears slipped down her cheeks as she renewed her struggle with the locks.
There had to be something somewhere. Standing, she slowly worked her way to the table to find a key or something she could use to pick the lock. Her hands were so shaky, she knocked numerous things off the table in her haste. More surgical instruments, more pictures. A fucking video camera. In anger she grabbed it and threw it against the wall. It shattered, falling to the floor in pieces. A sob broke from her chest as she struggled to keep from throwing up again.
“You’re her,” Miranda murmured.
“What?”
“The girl in the photos. Before he…I’ve had several people tell me I look like you. I guess he thought I did too. He even called me Kaycee a few times.”
Kaycee stared at her in shock. He’d been taking women that look like her?
“Oh god,” Miranda gasped and Kaycee turned to see what had upset her. “He’s coming.”
A tremor of fear snaked down Kaycee’s spine as she turned to stare at the opening. Now that Miranda had pointed it out, she could hear him. She could hear his footsteps as he made his way toward the small room. She frantically searched for something to use as a weapon. The surgical instruments were too small and most she didn’t even know what they were used for. Her eyes landed on a large board about the size of a bat in the corner. She quickly grabbed it, then moved back to the opening, hoping he looked toward her table and Miranda first.
A tall form filled the opening, dressed in black, his face covered with the same ski mask as before. As for height, he wasn’t much taller than her. Maybe an inch, if that. His shoulders were slightly wide, hinting to at least a little bit of strength and she swallowed a lump of anxiety. Her fingers flexed around the board as she slowly raised it over her shoulder like a bat.
“Please, please, please,” she chanted softly, then swung with all her might.
He turned to face her just before the board hit him in the side of the head. With a grunt, he fell to the floor, motionless. She stood over him, her board ready to swing again, but he remained still, the only sound in the room her shallow breaths and Miranda’s whimpers.
Fighting a rolling stomach and dizziness, she dropped the board and ran back to the table to grab the surgical knife she’d seen earlier. She almost fell twice making her way back to Miranda and cursed at her clumsiness.
With a sob, she dropped to her knees and tried to work the lock free with the narrow knife. It wasn’t working and she cried out in aggravation. “Damn it,” she sobbed. “I can’t get it.”
“Get out,” Miranda moaned. “Please.”
Kaycee shook her head. “No. I’m not going to leave you behind. I won’t.”
“I won’t make it and I’ll only slow you down.”
“No,” Kaycee said firmly, glancing over her shoulder to make sure the man was still down.
“You can’t carry me!” Miranda shouted. “You can barely walk yourself, and I can’t walk at all.”
Tears streamed down Kaycee’s face as she shook her head in denial. There had to be a way. She refused to leave this girl behind to die.
“Kaycee,” Miranda whispered and she could tell by the tone of her voice something was wrong.
Turning slowly, she watched in growing fear as the man on the floor began to move.
“Oh my god,” she sighed and again began to struggle with the bindings.
“Kaycee, please,” Miranda pleaded. “Please get out.”
“Not without you.”
“Kaycee! Kaycee, he’s coming!”
Kaycee spun around and watched in shock as he struggled to his knees. Her gaze frantically searched the room for her board. She sighed as she realized it lay on the ground right next to him.
“Get out!” Miranda shouted. “Please get out. You’re our only hope.”
“I can’t leave you,” she sighed and studied the surgical knife in her hand.
“Yes you can. Please. You have to. If you don’t get out, he’ll kill us both,” Miranda sobbed. “Please get help. Please.”
Kaycee glanced over her shoulder and saw the man rising slowly, his hand resting against his head. An angry growl rumbled through his chest and she cringed.
“Please,” Miranda whispered and Kaycee stared at the knife in her hand.
Could she kill him? She’s never killed anyone, never imagined she’d be in a position that she would have to. She stood slowly, her free hand holding the wall to steady herself. The knife was small, narrow. Even if she were lucky enough to hit a vital spot, she was doubtful it would do enough damage to kill him. Her best chance would be his neck. She swallowed, steeling her spine against the fear that threatened to turn her into a blubbering idiot.
He turned slowly, his hand still against the side of his head. He saw her immediately and stiffened, anger flaring from the depths of his dark eyes. “You bitch,” he snarled. “You’ll pay for that.”
She lowered her hand, trying to keep her weapon hidden as she waited for the right moment. If she struck too soon, he could block her and even take the only weapon she had away from her. She took a step toward him, her gaze flicking to the entrance—her only way out.
He stalked toward her and she gasped at his speed. He was on her too quickly for her fogged mind to keep up. His hand landed across her cheek, sending her to the floor. Lightening flashed behind her eyes as she hit the hard ground, sending shards of pain through her limbs. Her fingers kept their grip on the knife, her only hope and she glared up at him. Miranda cried in the background. Kaycee felt like crying as well, but instead she let her anger take over.
With a growl, she lunged upward, burying the knife in her attacker’s stomach. Warm blood trickled over her fingers and she let go of the handle as though she’d been burned, unable to stand the feel of it on her hands. Her fell to his knees with a groan.
Standing on shaky legs, she kicked at her attacker’s stomach, knocking him backward, his angry growls drowning out Miranda’s screams for her to run. Everything moved in slow motion as Kaycee made her way to the entrance and she growled in frustration. Her legs felt rooted in concrete. She couldn’t make them move fast enough.
Sobbing, she made her way to the entrance, not once looking back. She didn’t have to. She could hear him shouting obscenities at her, warnings of all the things he would do to her.
“You’ll hurt more than any of them, you bitch,” he snarled and dropped the knife on the ground with a clatter.
With a growl of her own, she ran as quickly as she could toward the opening. “Fuck you,” she screamed back.
Once out of the room, she turned to her left, heading toward a sliver of light at the far end of the hall. Please let this be a way out. Her legs shook from the exertion, her heart pounded so hard from fear she was certain it would jump from her chest. She could hear her attacker, smell him as he worked his way down the hall after her, screaming threats and obscenities the whole way.
She tripped over a rock and she reached down and picked it up, thinking it might come in handy at some point. A hand wrapped in her hair just as she reached a few feet of the door. She cried, screaming as he tugged her backward, stopping her from escape. Tears gathered in her eyes as she lost her balance and fell backward, despair weighing her down. Kicking her feet, she scraped the back of her heels along the ground, trying to fight her way back to a standing position. With a shock, she remembered the rock and swung it, hitting him just above the temple. He groaned and staggered back, letting go of her hair.
She twisted to all fours, not bothering to look back. With a cry, she lunged forward. Fear turned to adrenaline, giving her a second wind. With both hands, she shoved the heavy wooden door open, squinting as the bright sunlight hit her eyes.
“She’s out,” Sam said and Tyler squinted with a wince as the bright light temporarily blinded him.
“Where is she?” Barreck asked. “Come on guys. Give me something. Anything.”
“We’re trying, but…” Tyler shook his head, trying to clear his vision. “Sam it’s too bright. I can’t see anything. She’s so scared. She’s out of her mind with it.”
“She’s in a forest. Lots of trees.”
Tyler cringed as pain sliced through his feet. “God, she’s running through the forest barefoot. The limbs on the ground, they’re…they’re cutting her feet.”
Tyler couldn’t breath. Fear made his hands and legs shake, his heart pound. He’d never been this close to someone, this connected and if he’d been able to think clearly, it would have terrified him. But they couldn’t break the contact—they couldn’t let her go.
“You’re too close to her,” Sam said and Tyler reached out to grip his wrist with his free hand.
“Don’t you dare let go of that fucking scarf!”
Kaycee panted, tears streaming down her face as she made her way through the brush. Her arms and legs were bleeding, her breasts and stomach scratched. It was her feet that hurt the worst. Gashes to the bottom of her soles sent searing pain up her legs with every step while the cold damp air gnawed at her nakedness and seeped into her bones like dull knives.
Her fingers and toes were numb, her lips shivering so hard her teeth rattled. Snow fell around her, clinging to the barren branches and fallen leaves, making the ground slippery.
She could hear him behind her, his steps, his grunts and heavy breathing getting closer with every passing second. She had to find a way out of these trees. She had to find help.
Making a split second decision to go right, she turned and ran, almost tripping over a log as the ground took a major slant downhill. With a squeal, she righted herself by grabbing onto a small tree. A piece of bark ripped her fingernail off, but she was so scared, she barely noticed it. Instead, she kept her focus on the road below her about forty yards.
Crying, she took off at another run as fast as her weak legs and injured feet would carry her. A car was coming over the hill, the sunlight shining on the blue lights over the top of the car. As she jumped the ditch next to the road, she prayed she wasn’t hallucinating, prayed that was really a police car coming toward her. As her foot landed on the edge of the ditch, she fell, sprawling face first onto the concrete and almost directly in the path of the oncoming car. Tiny pebbles bit into her flesh, making her whimper in pain.
The car skidded to a halt, its tires squealing loudly. She closed her eyes tightly, waiting for the crushing pain as the car ran over her battered body, too tired to move, too scared to scream. Her breathing stopped as she waited for the car to hit, but it screeched to a stop just a few inches from her shoulder. When she glanced up, she realized he’d pulled to the side slightly, allowing her to read the door and the name of the county police.
“Blount County Sherrifs Department,” Sam said in relief. “She’s one damn lucky woman.”
Tyler let go of the scarf and drew in a deep breath to calm his rattled nerves. “Blount County,” he sighed and let his head drop back. He had a serious headache pounding behind his eyes. “Where have I heard that?”
“It’s where I go fly fishing,” Sam said. “She’s in Tennessee.”
Barreck jumped up from his chair, reaching for the phone on the wall to call the Blount County police.
“I want to go to Tennessee, Sam,” Tyler said, thankful that his brother didn’t give him any grief over getting too involved. Instead, he just nodded, silently agreeing.
That’s my son, the haggy-maggie in blue…LOL. 
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