RUNNING FOR HER LIFE

After witnessing the murder of her child’s father, Rochelle Miller flees. Ten years later, she and her son are still on the run. Now, the killer has tracked them to Montana and will do anything to silence Rochelle. When he gets too close, Rochelle is seriously injured, and EMT Matthew Stewart is the first responder on the scene. He vows to protect her, but it’s not just her life on the line. Rochelle and her son have only ever counted on each other. Are they ready to rely on someone new when their future is at stake?

“What if the police say that there is no reason to provide protection?” Rochelle asked.

Again, Matthew wondered exactly what she was up against. She looked as though she might cry. Compassion flooded through him. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. I’ll stay with you now. You need to focus on your recovery.”

She looked up at him for a long moment, probably trying to figure out why he was going to all this trouble. “Can I have your phone, so I can call my son? I need to know that he’s okay.”

He placed the phone in her hand. “Everything is going to be all right. I’ll see to it that you get well so you can take care of that kid of yours. It would help if you told me why these men are after you—”

Matthew heard the thud of a single footstep. The blow to the back of his head caused an explosion in his brain.

The last thing he heard as his cheek collided with the floor was Rochelle’s anguished scream.

SHARON DUNN

has always loved writing, but didn’t decide to write for publication until she was expecting her first baby. Pregnancy makes you do crazy things. Three kids, many articles and two mystery series later, she still hasn’t found her sanity. Her books have won awards, including a Book of the Year award from American Christian Fiction Writers. She was also a finalist for an RT Book Reviews Inspirational Book of the Year Award.

Sharon has performed in theater and church productions, has degrees in film production and history, and worked for many years as a college tutor and instructor. Despite the fact that her résumé looks as if she couldn’t decide what she wanted to be when she grew up, all the education and experience have played a part in helping her write good stories.

When she isn’t writing or taking her kids to activities, she reads, plays board games and contemplates organizing her closet. You can reach Sharon through her website, www.sharondunnbooks.net.

Cold Case Justice

Sharon Dunn

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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For I am the Lord, your God,

who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you.

— Isaiah 41:13

This book is dedicated to all the women and men who work tirelessly to help teen moms have a fighting chance in life.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

EPILOGUE

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Excerpt

Copyright

ONE

Rochelle Miller stopped dead in her tracks when she spotted Elwood Corben across the wide corridor of the courthouse where she worked. She took in a deep breath to clear her head as her anxiety level skyrocketed. Why, after ten years, had the man she’d fled Seattle over shown up in Montana? It couldn’t be coincidence. Elwood Corben had hunted her down. But why now, after all this time?

Elwood was speaking to a police officer, their heads bent close together in a very cozy way. She thought to slip into a room before he saw her, but fear paralyzed her. Elwood caught her staring, grinned at her and walked across the corridor. Each of his footsteps seemed to crush her further into the floor.

His face was all teeth and narrow snakelike eyes. His dyed hair couldn’t hide that he was a man past sixty. “Megan, how good to see you.”

Even changing her first and last name hadn’t kept him away. He must have hired a detective to find her. She’d thought she’d been careful in covering her tracks, but she’d been only sixteen when she’d run from him and hadn’t had the resources or know-how to do a thorough job in changing her identity.

Rochelle laced her fingers together to hide how badly they were shaking. Though Elwood Corben wouldn’t harm her with all these people around, she’d picked up on the threat beneath his words. Only she knew the truth about Elwood Corben—that he was a cold-blooded murderer.

She squared her shoulders and purged her voice of the terror raging inside her. “I have to go to work.” She hurried toward a courtroom that she knew had just adjourned. She slipped into the milling crowd and headed toward a side exit. When she looked over her shoulder, she couldn’t see Elwood among the throng of people. Working her way through the labyrinth of the courthouse, she took a circuitous route to the side street where her car was parked. The winter cold chilled her skin as she got into her car. She hadn’t had time to get her coat or her purse, but was glad she had shoved her keys into her pants pocket. Her heart raced as she slipped in behind the wheel and started the car.

Her only clear thought was of her nine-year-old son, Jamie.

When she pulled out, Rochelle checked her rearview mirror to make sure she wasn’t being followed. She tried to formulate a plan as she drew closer to Jamie’s school. Corben knew where she worked, but maybe he didn’t know where she lived. Why else would he have come to the courthouse instead of her home? She’d hidden away cash at her house in case this day ever came. First she’d get Jamie and then the money. Rochelle feathered the brake as she turned a corner onto a busy street, knowing she needed to slow down or she’d end up on the sidewalk.

She wove through the heavy traffic. Her car fishtailed on the icy road. A horn honked. She gripped the wheel a little tighter. For sure, Corben didn’t know about Jamie, and he wasn’t going to find out. Yet another reason to get out of town quickly and not go to the police. If she lingered here in Discovery, even if the police could protect her, Corben would find out he had a grandson. She couldn’t take that chance. Elwood wasn’t capable of loving family members. She knew that all too well.

Rochelle tensed as the images from ten years ago assaulted her mind.

She’d only been sixteen when she’d fallen in love with Corben’s son Dylan. Though Elwood Corben walked around with a smoldering rage, she hadn’t understood the extent to which he was involved in illegal activity until she heard Dylan arguing with his father one night. Dylan insisted he was not going be a part of the family’s import/export business because his father often operated outside the law.

She’d come to the balcony of Elwood’s house and listened to the heated discussion.

Dylan’s voice held conviction. “I want a legitimate life, Dad. I want to marry Megan.”

The silence that followed caused her to hold her breath. From her vantage point she saw only Dylan’s back and part of Elwood’s arms and upper body.

“You are my son and you will do what I say.”

The barely contained rage in Elwood’s words made her shiver. She saw Elwood’s fist swing out and strike Dylan, who crumpled to the floor after hitting his head on the counter. She could have viewed Dylan’s fall as an accident brought on by Elwood’s out-of-control anger, for Elwood hadn’t known Dylan would hit his head. But as she watched Elwood stare down at his son and do nothing, she saw him for the murderer he was.

Blood spread across the tile. In the moment that life left Dylan’s body, something died inside her, too. Though she’d been in rebellion from her Christian upbringing when she met Dylan, she had loved him.

She must have screamed, because Elwood stomped across the tile and glared up at her where she stood on the stairs. Murder glistened in his eyes. “What did you see?”

She shook her head, unable to stop staring at Dylan lying motionless on the floor. Knowing that Elwood intended to kill her for what she’d witnessed, she’d fled from the house. He’d caught up with her before she could get to the police station, threatened her life and her family’s. She’d managed to escape his grasp and taken the first bus out of town. Two days later, when she’d made it to Discovery, she found out she was pregnant. Up until that point, she had intended to go back and talk to the police. Once Jamie was born, though, she knew she had to protect him from Elwood ever finding out he existed. Elwood would hardly be the doting grandfather. If Dylan had been any indication at all, Elwood sought only to control family. When he couldn’t control, he killed. She couldn’t risk Jamie being a party to that.

Not wanting her family to be harmed or Corben strong-arming them into saying where she was, she’d cut off contact with them, as well.

Rochelle stared through the windshield at the icy road as her heart pounded out a wild rhythm. Her arm muscles tensed as she gripped the wheel. She was less than two minutes away from Jamie’s school. She pressed the accelerator and swerved around a slow-moving car.

The car that hit her came out of nowhere. She didn’t even have time to touch the brake before she heard the crunching of metal. Her body swung back and then forward. Glass sprayed across her field of vision.

As her world went black, all she could think about was holding her nine-year-old son and making sure he was safe.

* * *

Paramedic Matthew Stewart felt a tightening in his stomach as the sirens of the ambulance he was driving wailed. He maneuvered around the stopped traffic.

His partner, Daniel, leaned forward in the passenger seat as they got closer to the scene of the accident. “This doesn’t look good.”

Up ahead, Matthew could see that a truck with a dented passenger-side door had been pulled to the side of the road. A compact car with a crumpled front end sat in the middle of the street.

His neck muscles tensed.

This was the first serious call he’d been out on since Christina Johnson’s suicide, and his adrenaline was mixing with his anxiety. A neighbor had phoned that he’d found Christina unconscious with a broken ankle. When she came to, she said she’d fainted and twisted her ankle when she fell. The ER doctors had signed off on her after they patched her up. But Matthew’s instinct had told him something more was going on. Yet, he’d done nothing about it. Christina hadn’t acted like a suicidal woman. No one thought to question her fainting story. A week later, they were called back to her house. This time, she’d taken enough pills to kill an elephant, not just pass out and fall down. He couldn’t sleep at night because he kept going over and over in his head why he hadn’t trusted his gut, and he vowed next time he would.

As the crowd of gawkers parted, he killed the siren and parked the ambulance. He pushed open the door and grabbed the C-collar and the backboard from the back bay. An older man ran up to him.

“The guy in the truck is okay.” The man pointed at a twenty-something man who was rubbing his neck. “The woman is in real bad shape, though.” The older man indicated the compact car.

Daniel patted Matthew’s shoulder. “I’ll have a look at him and then come help you.”

Matthew drew his attention toward the car in the middle of the street. The front end had been completely pushed in and the windshield had been smashed. He couldn’t tell the condition of the driver from this far away. In the distance, he heard the sound of the police sirens headed toward them.

As he stepped toward the car, he saw the woman’s head rested against the driver’s-side window. He opened the door slowly and began his assessment. Despite the winter chill, she wasn’t wearing a coat and her eyes were open but unfocused. Blood dripped from the gash on her forehead. She was pretty, probably in her late twenties. She looked vaguely familiar to him.

He knelt and spoke softly. “Ma’am, you’ve been in an accident.”

She shook her head. The glazed eyes told him she still wasn’t tracking with him. “I have to get to the school...for my son. Please...I have...to leave town.”

Why was she thinking about leaving town? Not a normal response for an accident victim. She wasn’t making much sense. She might have a head injury. “Ma’am, can you tell me what day it is?”

She met his gaze. A light came into her eyes. “Do I know you?”

He studied her more closely. “I think we might be neighbors. Do you live on B Street?” He’d seen her playing in the yard with her son and getting in her car in the morning dressed in a business suit. He’d talked to the kid a couple of times and knew his name was Jamie.

“Yes, just up the street from you.” She nodded. Pain shot across her expression, compressing her features. She moaned. “My arm.”

He touched her shoulder. “Please don’t try to move. My partner and I are going to put you on a backboard and get a collar around you to prevent any additional injury to your spine.”

“I don’t need to go to the hospital.” Her voice filled with panic. “I can’t. Please, I have to get my son.” She arched her back and closed her eyes, probably trying to shut out the pain.

Even without a close exam, he knew her injuries were extensive. Though she was free to refuse medical attention, she clearly needed it. He didn’t want a repeat of what had happened with Christina Johnson. He had to convince her.

“What’s your name, ma’am?”

“Rochelle.”

“Rochelle, I’m Matthew. I can appreciate that you are concerned about your son. We’ll make arrangements for you to call a friend to pick him up. But right now, my priority is to get you to a hospital.”

She shook her head. “You don’t understand.” She swung out of the car seat and attempted to push herself to her feet. He caught her before she collapsed to the ground. Her eyes opened briefly and then she became a rag doll in his arms.

“I got it,” said Daniel as he ran toward them, grabbing Rochelle’s legs and helping Matthew transfer her to the board.

She stirred only slightly when they strapped her to the backboard and put the collar around her neck. The crowd dispersed as they loaded her into the ambulance.

“I’m going to ride in back with her,” said Matthew.

While Daniel moved into the flow of traffic, Matthew started an IV. They passed a tow truck headed in the opposite direction. Up front, he could hear Daniel calling ahead to alert the hospital of their arrival.

Matthew stared down at the porcelain-skinned brunette. He had said hello to her once or twice when he went for a walk in the evening. His house was a few houses down from hers and on the opposite side of the street. He’d talked to the kid several times. He felt a connection to the boy when he’d seen him in the yard trying to learn how to throw a football. Matthew’s father had left the family when he was seven. No one had been there to teach him to throw a football, either.

Her eyes fluttered open briefly. “Jamie.” The note of desperation surprised him. Nothing he said seemed to calm her down.

“I know that’s your son. I’ve talked to him a couple of times. Nice kid.”

She didn’t respond.

“Rochelle, you’ve got glass in the cut on your forehead. I’m going pull it out and put a bandage on you.”

She turned her head to one side, eyes closed. “My arm hurts, and here.” She touched her rib cage.

“I’ve got an IV going for the pain. We’ll have a doctor look at you as soon as we get to the hospital.” He hadn’t seen any sign of external bleeding other than her head, but there was no telling what kind of internal damage she’d sustained.

“I have to go. I have to get out of here. Please.” She wrapped her arm around his bicep and squeezed before her voice faded, and she closed her eyes.

What was going on in her life that she could not let go of the idea that she had to leave? He hoped the kid was okay and that her worry was being fueled by the trauma of the accident. He found tweezers and carefully picked out the pieces of glass. She winced each time. He disinfected the wound and placed a bandage over the gash.

She looked up at him with wide brown eyes. He locked into her gaze for a moment. Though he had only seen her at a distance, he’d always thought she was pretty. She turned her head to the side and closed her eyes. “I have to call someone to go get Jamie.” Fear lanced through her words.

At least she seemed to be tracking with reality and had given up the idea that she had to get her son. He studied her for a moment wondering exactly what her story was. His concern for the kid’s safety heightened.

The ambulance pulled up to the ER doors. The trauma team met them outside with a gurney.

As they were wheeling Rochelle inside, Matthew tapped the nurse’s shoulder. “Marie, when this woman is stabilized, can you make sure she has access to a phone? She’s concerned about her son and needs to make arrangements for him to be picked up. I’m not sure what’s going on.”

Marie nodded. “We can take care of that.”

He watched them push the gurney down the hall and disappear around a corner. Matthew finished out his shift with only one minor call. With Rochelle and her son still on his mind, he swung by the nurses’ station before leaving for home.

An older, plus-size nurse with brassy hair and pink lipstick sat at the station flipping through a patient chart.

“Lindy, there was a woman brought in from a car accident earlier. Did she get access to a phone?”

Lindy crossed her ample arms. “She did, as per your request, Matthew.”

“How’s she doing?”

“No serious internal damage. She’s got bruised ribs and a fractured arm. They’re keeping her overnight to make sure no latent head injury shows up.” Lindy studied him for a moment. “You don’t usually take this much interest in patients.”

“She’s a neighbor and she was emotionally distraught.” His gut was telling him something more was going on with her. This time, he intended to listen to that instinct. He had to know she was going to be okay before he went home.

Lindy narrowed her eyes at him. “Didn’t your supervisor suggest you take a few days off after that suicide tore you up so bad?”

“Work is the best thing for me.” Honestly, sitting at home wondering what he could have done different to save Christina Johnson would only make things worse.

“You can’t rescue everyone from everything. Sometimes you’ve just got to hang it up once your shift is over,” Lindy said.

“That’s not what’s going on here.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself. He wasn’t stepping out of bounds. He just didn’t want another Christina on his hands.

Lindy shrugged. “It’s your call. I’m about to do my rounds. You’re welcome to pop your head in and say hello to her yourself.”

He wouldn’t be at peace to leave work until he saw that Rochelle was okay and that whatever panic she had at the scene had been because of the accident and not something else.

He followed Lindy down the hall. When they stepped into the room, the bed was unmade but empty. Lindy checked the bathroom and then shook her head. “Looks like our patient checked out on her own.” She bustled toward the door. “I’m not sure what recourse we have for getting her back here, but I’ll talk to the doctor. I hope we find her. That woman needs rest and medical supervision. She’s in no condition to be running around.”

Feeling a rising sense of panic, Matthew darted toward the door. “I know the first place to look for her.”

TWO

Pain shot through Rochelle’s bruised rib cage as the taxi pulled up to her house. Cradling her fractured arm in a sling, she leaned to the side and studied the street. She recognized all the cars as belonging to people in the neighborhood. Hopefully, she’d been right about Corben only knowing where she worked. She’d been careful through the years not to list her address publicly, instead using a PO box. How Corben had found her was anyone’s guess. Something connected with her court-reporting work and a picture of her must have appeared somewhere online that a detective could track her down.

The cabdriver turned his head. “This is the place, isn’t it, lady?”

“Yes.” Her purse and her phone were still back at the courthouse. “Can you wait here? I’ll have to go inside to get the money to pay you and then I’m going to need a ride to the airport after we pick up my son.”

The taxi driver shrugged his shoulders. “It’s your dime, lady.”

Bracing herself against the pain, she pushed open the door and headed toward her house. She stepped with care on the icy sidewalk. At least Jamie was safe for now. The kind paramedic had kept his word and made sure she had access to a phone as soon as she was able to talk. She’d called her friend Louise to pick Jamie up from school and keep him at her house. If she had her cell phone she would have called just to make sure he was still okay.

As she made her way up her sidewalk, she could still feel the aftereffects of the painkillers she’d been given. She was groggy and weak. With one more glance up and down her street, she entered her house. Even if it was a risk, she had no choice in coming back here. She and Jamie would not survive without that money, and she needed to grab another form of ID to get on the plane.

There was no time to pack. She’d get clothes for her and Jamie later in whatever city they ended up in. After finding a ski jacket for herself, she grabbed Jamie’s favorite book and then went to her own closet to dig out a shoe box filled with the money she’d saved over the years. She’d stored the cash at the bottom of her closet, knowing that this day might come. Rochelle placed the money in a fanny pack and clicked it around her waist, hiding it under her shirt. Out of breath and in intense discomfort, she sat on the floor using her bed as a backrest. Though the medication took the edge off the pain, she still felt the effects of the accident. The effort it took to kneel and find the box had exhausted her. But she had to push through. She could sleep when she was on the plane.

She hurried through the house, stopping only for a moment to grab a passport and to look at the pictures Jamie had drawn that were plastered all over the refrigerator. Deep sorrow washed over her. She’d made this place a home for her and her son. Now she’d have to say goodbye. She grabbed Jamie’s drawing of a rocket ship and put it in her fanny pack. The house seemed eerily quiet as she closed the door.

Once outside, she headed down the sidewalk and toward the taxi that waited for her across the street. She’d taken only a few steps when a broad-shouldered man stepped out from behind the neighbor’s hedge. The look on his face was menacing. He had a two-inch scar underneath his eye that made him look even more threatening. He lunged toward her, grabbing her good arm. She screamed. The pain as she tried to wrench away nearly made her crumple to the ground. She looked toward the taxi, but seeing the trouble, the driver sped away.

“Elwood wants to talk to you.” Her attacker’s gruff voice spiked the fear she felt.

With her heart pounding, she struggled to break free. White-hot pain exploded from her rib cage. The man grabbed her injured arm as black dots filled her field of vision.

As she fell to the ground, the last thing she heard was pounding footsteps.

* * *

“Get away from her.” Matthew ran up and knelt on the ground beside Rochelle.

The man reeled backward, panic evident in his expression as he stared down at Rochelle. “I barely touched her.”

“This woman is injured. She needs to be in a hospital.” Matthew pulled out his phone.

“You calling the cops?”

He glared at the man. “You assaulted her.”

The thug shook his head, turned and ran down the street. Matthew returned his attention to Rochelle. He’d deal with getting the police onto that guy later. His primary concern was for Rochelle. As he gathered her into his arms, her eyes fluttered open.

“I know that something terrible must be going on for you to leave the hospital when you did,” he said. “But you make your injuries worse by running around like this.”

She nodded as though she understood and then closed her eyes. He laid her gently on the grass and ran to get his car. After pulling up to the curb, he gathered her into his arms and positioned her in the passenger seat. She stirred slightly when he reached over and belted her in.

“You don’t understand.” Her voice was groggy. “I have to leave now.” Even in her weakened state, he heard the determination in her voice.

“You’re too weak to go anywhere, Rochelle.” She still hadn’t let go of that idea. Judging from the behavior of the man who had come after her, she was in some danger. Still, the best place for her was the hospital. He’d call the police and see if he could get their help. As he drove, he phoned the hospital to let them know he’d found the missing patient and was coming in.

Maybe if he knew what was going on, the police would be more likely to help. “Who was that guy anyway? An ex-husband or something?”

She opened her eyes and stared straight ahead. “I wish it were that simple.” Anguish colored her words.

Daniel met them at the door with a wheelchair. Rochelle got into the wheelchair without much protest.

“She was in room 112. I’ll go down to the Admitting and make sure her paperwork is still in place,” Matthew said.

“Got it,” said Daniel.

Once inside, Daniel pushed the wheelchair in the opposite direction that Matthew went. Matthew made his way down the hall and turned the corner where the admitting desk was. A muscular blond man stood at the high counter. Matthew couldn’t hear all of the hushed conversation, but he heard Rochelle’s name. The administrator clicked the keys on her computer and responded to the man.

Something about the man was just as menacing as the one with the scar on his face, the man who had attacked Rochelle in front of her house.

Trust your gut.

With adrenaline surging through his veins, Matthew turned and ran back down the hall.

When he looked into room 112, it was empty. They must have assigned her a new room. At least that bought her some time. He had no idea what kind of threat Rochelle was under or who the men were. He only knew he wanted her to have a chance to recover from her injuries. He scanned the hallway wondering where Daniel would have taken her. When he glanced over his shoulder, the blond thug stalked down the hallway toward room 112. The paperwork must still say she was in that room.

Matthew ran toward the nurses’ station. Lindy was no longer on duty. Instead, a perky young nurse named Tina smiled up at him.

“Did Daniel the EMT come by here with a woman in a wheelchair?”

“He turned her over to the nurse to get her settled in room 125.” Tina pointed down the hallway.

“Thanks, Tina.” Matthew glanced over his shoulder.

Blondie came out of room 112 and made a beeline toward the nurses’ station, stopping to glance into the rooms with open doors.

Matthew hurried down the hall and opened the door to room 125. Rochelle was pushing herself out of the wheelchair, reaching for the wall for support. She lifted her head. She looked more coherent than she had previously, though her face was still pale.

“Where’s the nurse?”

“She went to get some medical supplies. Matthew, I know you’re only trying to help me, but I need to go.”

“I agree with you.”

A look of surprise and confusion crossed her features as she shook her head.

“You’ve got company in this hospital,” he said.

Her eyes grew wide. “They found me already.” Fear made her voice falter. She shot toward the door, then stopped, swaying slightly.

“Unfortunately, I think I led them here. I told that guy at your house you needed to be in a hospital. He must have phoned his muscular friend. Get back in the chair.” This was his fault. He needed to make it right. “He’s checking the rooms. Let’s move you to a safe place and then we’ll call the police and get some help for you.”

“I’m not sure if the police can help.” She wobbled and reached out for the wall.

He touched her arm lightly. “Get back in the chair. You’re in no condition to do this alone.” He realized in that moment that he was making a commitment to keep her safe until he could hand her over to the police. It was a commitment he was willing to make for Jamie’s sake. Matthew’s mother had been his saving grace growing up without a father. He sensed Rochelle possessed the same maternal strength. Without at least one parent, Jamie didn’t have any kind of a shot. Matthew couldn’t let that happen to a child when he had the power to prevent it.

Her shoulders drooped, and she turned back toward him, nearly falling into his arms. He lowered her into the chair. At the door, he peered up and down the hall. When he saw Blondie lean in to check a room a few doors down, he pushed the chair into the hallway. He quickened his pace but not so much as to call attention to himself.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” Rochelle’s voice came out in a harsh whisper as she bent her head down so her long brown hair hid her face.

Matthew spoke under his breath. “He’s behind me. He can’t see you, and he doesn’t know who I am.” Matthew slipped into a supply closet and pulled his phone off his belt. He dialed the police station. “I need to talk to a police officer.”

A crisp female voice came on the line. “This is Officer Bridget O’Connor. How can I help you?”

“Listen, this is Matthew Stewart over at the hospital. I’ve got a woman who needs to be hospitalized, and I believe there is a physical threat against her. She was assaulted earlier today at her home and now there is a different guy searching the hospital for her.”

“We can send an officer over to talk with her and take it from there,” said Officer O’Connor.

“That sounds good. If he could meet us by Admitting, that would be great.”

He hung up the phone.

Rochelle looked up at him in earnest. “He’s going to meet us here?”

He was struck by how helpless she seemed sitting in the wheelchair. “We’ll be in Admitting. There’s lots of people around. I’ll stay with you until we’re sure you have the protection you need or that guy is taken into custody.”

“But that man hasn’t technically done anything to me, and he’s not the real problem,” she said.

“Maybe, but they can stop him and question him. And you can at least give them the description of the guy who grabbed you at your house, the one with the scar.”

“What if the police say that there is no reason to provide protection?” Her voice filled with anxiety. “Taking those two men into custody won’t make it stop. There is a different man behind all of this.”

Again, he wondered exactly what she was up against. She looked as though she might cry. Compassion flooded through him. Lindy the nurse was wrong. He didn’t have a rescue complex. Rochelle needed his help. He couldn’t abandon her and that kid now. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. Let’s see what the police say. I’ll stay with you until we get this taken care of. You need to focus on your recovery.”

She looked up at him for a long moment, probably trying to figure out why he was going to all this trouble. “Can I have your phone so I can call my son? I need to know that he’s okay at my friend’s house.”

He placed the phone in her hand, opened the door to the supply closet and backed the wheelchair out. “Everything is going to be all right. I’ll see to it that you get well so you can take care of that kid of yours. It would help if you told me why these men are after you—”

Matthew heard the thud of a single footstep. The blow to the back of his head caused an explosion in his brain. The last thing he heard as his cheek collided with the floor was Rochelle’s anguished scream.

THREE

“You’re coming with me, lady.”

The blond thug jerked her up out of the wheelchair, making her dizzy from the pain. There were no other people in the hallway. The empty nurses’ station suggested the wing might be unused. Panic washed over her like a wave.

Rochelle did not have the strength to resist the man as he dragged her toward the exit. She turned to stare down at Matthew, who had already begun to stir. “Who are you?”

“Look, lady, I was hired by a man. I’m supposed to take you to him.”

“The man you work for is a bad man. He wants to kill me.” She tried to pull her arm free, causing her to drop Matthew’s phone. The thug kicked the phone down the hall out of view. Pain sliced through her torso like a thousand tiny knifes.

“That’s not true.” Blondie squeezed her good arm tighter. “Just come on. He said you’d be resistant. He only wants to talk.”

She doubted Elwood only wanted to chat. Why go to all this trouble for a conversation? The only thing Corben wanted from her was her silence, and the only way he could get that would be to murder her. It seemed odd, though. If Corben wanted her dead, why not hire someone to kill her outright?

With a grip like iron on her upper arm, Blondie pushed her toward the exit. Any resistance she put up only caused more discomfort and made her light-headed. He led her out a side door into the employee parking lot, which unfortunately was empty. He shoved her into the back of the car. She laid her head against the leather seat. The pain had grown so intense she was having a hard time focusing let alone moving.

He grabbed her uninjured arm and pushed it upward toward the one in the sling. He pulled a piece of wire from his back pocket and secured her hands together with the insides of the wrists touching each other. She glanced around hoping, praying, that someone had seen them. He placed a blindfold over her eyes and then pushed on her shoulder. “Now get down.”

The thug got into the front seat and sped off through the parking lot. Any hope that Matthew would recover fast enough to help her faded. He’d already done more than any stranger should have and for that she was grateful. But now she was on her own.

Her captor swerved through traffic and then picked up speed. They must be headed out of town. She tried to push herself up, but when the pain intensified, she collapsed onto the seat. Her heart raced as fear surrounded her every thought.

This was it then. She wouldn’t see Jamie again. He was all that mattered to her. Jamie had guardians, a nice couple from her church. She’d made the legal arrangements shortly after he was born. He’d be loved and taken care of, but she wouldn’t be with him. Images of her son as a baby and a toddler flashed through her mind. Her eyes warmed with tears. He was her whole life.

She slipped in and out of consciousness, uncertain how much time had passed. At one point, the noise the tires made indicated that the road had changed from paved to dirt. The car came to a stop, and she heard the driver’s-side door open. She struggled to push herself up, but putting any kind of pressure on her injured arm was excruciating.

The back door opened. She assumed it was the thug until she heard a soft tenor voice. “Rochelle, it’s me.” Matthew slipped the blindfold off her.

She stared into the deep brown of his eyes, and gratitude washed over her.

He tugged on the sleeve of her good arm. “He’s making a phone call. Sounds like he’s lost and getting directions. Crawl out this way so he doesn’t see you.”

She inched across the seat, careful to keep her head down. Matthew’s courage amazed her. If it wasn’t for him, Elwood might have a gun to her head right now. She slipped out of the car and crouched, taking in her surroundings. The sky had turned dark gray with the promise of evening less than half an hour away. They were on a country road. Elwood must have rented a secluded cabin somewhere. The thug continued to talk on the phone and look out at his surroundings, probably trying to assess where he was.

Matthew pulled her into the cover of the trees and then quickly untwisted the wire that bound her hands together. “My car is down the road. I turned around when I saw he’d stopped.”

Twenty feet away, she could hear the shouts and expletives of the blond thug as he realized she’d escaped.

Matthew grabbed her good hand. “Come on, it’s not far.” He pulled her through the shelter of the trees. Out of breath and barely able to walk, she stopped and bent over. He wrapped his arm around her waist and all but carried her the remaining distance. Finally Matthew’s car came into view. She yanked open the passenger-side door, glancing over her shoulder. Blondie’s car rounded the corner. Matthew pressed the accelerator of his car just as she sat in the seat and closed the door. She belted herself in. Every part of her body felt like it was on fire and each inhale caused physical anguish.

She glanced over at Matthew, who focused on the road in front of him. What was going on with him that he would take this kind of risk for her?

Matthew gained speed. The other car loomed dangerously close.

He gripped the wheel tighter and pressed the accelerator to the floor.

The other car bumped against them. Rochelle braced herself on the dashboard with her good hand as her heart beat out a wild rhythm. There was a second and a third bump and then their car rolled down a steep hill. The front end impacted with a fallen log, coming to a jerky stop. She flew forward but the seat belt held her in place. Her whole torso flared from the trauma.

Matthew’s hand touched her shoulder. Concern filled his voice. “You all right?”

The intensity of the pain nearly blinded her, but she managed a nod. The warmth of his touch calmed her.

His hand brushed over her cheek. “I’m so sorry. The last thing you needed was to be in another accident.” He stared at her so intensely it was clear he was doing his paramedic thing and assessing her responses.

“Why are you doing all of this?”

He looked directly at her. “I just figure a kid who doesn’t have a dad deserves to at least have his mom around.”

His comment pierced straight through her. He was willing to do all of this for Jamie.

He clicked the key in the car, but nothing happened. “I’ve talked to your kid a couple of times when we ran into each other in the neighborhood. He’s a good kid. He deserves a shot at a normal life.” He shook his head. “I don’t think this car is going to start.”

Still reeling from what he had said about Jamie, Rochelle was seeing Matthew in a new light. For nine years, she’d been alone in caring about Jamie’s future. With Dylan gone, she’d assumed it would always be that way.

Rochelle glanced around. They’d rolled down a steep, snowy embankment. The road was above them, a forest on the other side. Blondie had hit them with such force that his own car had rolled down the hill, too. It was upright, but the smashed roof indicated that it must have turned over at least once.

Matthew tried his car one more time. Clearly it wasn’t going to start. He drew his attention to the thug’s wrecked car. “I’m going to make sure that guy is okay. And see if his car will run.”

Rochelle was amazed. Matthew never stopped being a paramedic. Blondie had nearly killed them, and Matthew still cared enough about his fellow human being to check on him.

“Be careful,” she said.

“I can handle it. He’s not getting out of the vehicle. He’s probably incapacitated.” Matthew pushed open the door and stepped out.

She waited for a moment and then thought it would be better if Matthew didn’t confront their pursuer alone. Still in pain, Rochelle pushed herself from the car and trailed behind Matthew. She watched him reach through the broken window of the thug’s car and touch the unconscious man’s neck to make sure he had a pulse.

Concern filled his expression when he noticed her. “You should’ve stayed in the car.”

“I was worried the guy might hurt you,” she said.

“I’m not sure how much help you would have been. You’re in pretty rough shape.” The corner of his mouth turned up and a smile danced in his eyes. “We need to call for help.” He looked down at his belt. “I don’t suppose you have my phone?”

“I dropped it when he grabbed me.” She peered inside the car. “His phone must be in there somewhere.” She went around to the passenger-side door and opened it to search.

Blondie’s eyes shot open. He grabbed her hair and started pulling. “You.” His voice filled with rage. Her scalp burned.

Matthew ran up behind her, wrapped his arm around her waist and wrestled her free. The thug crawled across the seat, reaching out for her, but Matthew pulled her back. The thug emerged from the wrecked car, swaying on his feet. His injuries from the accident had left him debilitated, and he stalked toward them slowly, stopping frequently. Matthew helped Rochelle sit down. After patting the thug down for a weapon, he led him back to the car where he tied him up. Weakened by the accident and his outburst with Rochelle, the thug resisted only once.

After returning to Rochelle, Matthew glanced up at the road above them and then at the forest. “Follow me.” He raced over to his wrecked car and pulled a first-aid kit out of the backseat.

She staggered toward him. Her side hurt every time she wheezed in air.

He must have seen the pain in her expression. “You can’t keep running like this. It will mess you up more. You can’t walk back to town in your condition.” He stared up at the steep incline that led to the country road.

“We have to at least try,” she said. “Someone should be along to pick us up.”

She swayed, and he wrapped an arm around her waist. He glanced over his shoulder to where the thug remained slumped against the car. “Guess we don’t have a lot of options. We’ll call for someone to come and get him when we get to town. I’ve got you. Walk as fast as you can.”

They made it only a short way up the hill before she stopped, breathing heavily and leaning against him. This wasn’t going to work. She could hardly walk, let alone climb a hill.

“I don’t think we should stay out in the open long. Other people might be coming when that guy doesn’t show up with me,” she said.

He walked parallel to the road, still supporting Rochelle. “Where was that guy taking you?”

“He was taking me to a man, an evil man who I am pretty sure wants me dead.”

“Why does he want you dead?” He continued to hold her up and plodded forward.

“Because...I...witnessed him...kill a man. Jamie’s father.” Recalling the horror of ten years ago weakened her even more. Her knees buckled.

He caught her in his arms and then looked directly at her. His hand touched her cheek. “You need to get your strength back up. You can’t walk anymore.”

“Maybe it’s not such a good idea to go up there anyway.” She was having a hard time forming a complete thought. “They’ll be looking for us on that road when I don’t show up.”

“We’ll have to come up with a different plan, then,” said Matthew. He pulled her into the shelter of some trees. He ripped open the first-aid kit and doled out two pills from a packet. “Take these. They’ll help somewhat with the pain.” His face was etched with concern. “What you need more than anything is rest. We’ll have to walk awhile on the flat ground, find a hiding place. Can you do that for me?” He shoved other items from the kit in his pockets.

She nodded even as she felt herself growing light-headed. She peered over her shoulder wondering if the thug would be able to figure out which direction they’d gone and tell whoever showed up. The snow was patchy and their footprints faint. “I guess hiding is our best option for now.”

With Matthew supporting her, they walked until they came to a place where the tree cover was fairly thick. He gathered tree branches and laid them on top of the snow. Using the branches as a chair, Matthew helped Rochelle to the ground.

“You need to stay here and rest. I’m going to scout around and see if there is another more accessible road where we might be able to catch a ride into town.”

“What if they come looking for me or that man in the car gets away?”

Matthew knelt beside her. He touched her cheek with his palm. The warmth of his touch seeped through her skin. “I know this plan is not perfect, but I will do everything in my power to make sure you get back to the hospital and get well for your son.”

“This is above and beyond your job description.”

He hesitated. “It’s what I need to do.” He dug through his pockets and pulled out a granola bar. “In case you get hungry.” He removed his winter coat and placed it around her shoulders.

“I won’t be gone for more than forty-five minutes. If anyone does come looking for you, you should be able to hear him coming. Find a place to hide. I’ll come back for you. I promise.”

How long would it be before Elwood realized something had happened and he came looking for her? “Won’t you be cold?” The sweater Matthew wore looked like it was wool, but it couldn’t totally shut out the November chill.

“You’re the one who needs to stay warm. Rest. Try to regain your strength. I’ll find a way to get you back to the hospital so you can get better.”

“Thank you.” Though she doubted she’d be safe in that hospital, she was overwhelmed by the extent to which he had gone to help her.

Matthew tilted his head. “It’s almost dark. That works in our favor.” He turned on a flashlight that was attached to his key chain and set off, his footsteps crunching in the snow. The noise slowly faded. Rochelle sat in the dark listening for the sound of approaching footsteps.

Matthew wasn’t wrong. Both accidents had weakened her. She was in no condition to travel, but what choice did she have? She slipped into Matthew’s coat, surprised by how warm it was. The coat smelled like him, kind of a woodsy musk scent. Her heart was opening up to him in a way that hadn’t happened since Dylan’s death. Yet she didn’t trust her own feelings. These were desperate circumstances, and Matthew had made it clear that his concern was only for her physical health and a secure future for Jamie. She didn’t dare read more into his kindness than that.

Despite her hypervigilance, exhaustion overtook her and she nodded off, grateful for the warmth of Matthew’s coat and for his help. She only hoped he was able to find a way back into town before Elwood Corben’s brand of trouble caught up with her again.

* * *

Matthew crossed his arms over his chest to stave off the evening cold. He’d be all right as long as he kept moving. His back muscles ached more than they should have. He’d probably strained them in the accident. He might be sore tomorrow, but he didn’t think he’d sustained much damage.

So far he hadn’t seen anything resembling a road. He hated leaving Rochelle behind. But he would have done more damage making her follow him around with no clear direction to go. He’d made a tough choice when there were no good choices.

Rochelle hadn’t been exaggerating when she said she needed to leave town. Clearly, her life was being threatened. Her initial solution had been to run, but she was in no condition for any kind of travel. When they got back into town, he’d have to convince her of that. The police had to provide some kind of protection and find the man responsible for all she had gone through.

He shone his flashlight all around, still not seeing any sign of a road or an alternate route back into town. He slowed down in his jogging.

What had he gotten himself into? Rochelle had witnessed a murder. He was in way over his head. Had he been right to trust his gut feeling or had he been impulsive in thinking he had to rescue Rochelle and her son? His sense of duty had to end somewhere. As soon as he handed her safely over to the police, he could step back from all of this.

He’d had a moment after he’d been knocked down at the hospital that he’d thought to run back to where people were and get a nurse to call the police, but he knew he had only seconds to catch up with Rochelle and her abductor before she’d be lost for sure and then Jamie would be an orphan.

He checked his watch. He could search another ten minutes and still have time to get back to Rochelle if he ran. The looming darkness made everything look different, but his experience as a hiker had forced him to pay attention to landmarks in all kinds of conditions. He’d find his way back just fine.

His boots crunched on the snow, and a chill settled over his skin. He walked faster, shining the light in an arc. The silhouette of a structure came into view. He walked toward it and realized it was a house with no lights on. Probably nobody home. All the same, he knocked. He waited, staring up at the night sky, which had grown darker. Stars twinkled down at him, and the full moon provided some illumination. He knocked again, this time louder, praying that lights would come on and someone would open the door.

He peered in the window but couldn’t see much. The place might not be occupied year-round. There were plenty of vacation cabins out this way. It could be months before the owners came back. There was no garage, and he didn’t see a car anywhere. As expected, when he tried the door it was locked.

He needed to get back to Rochelle. As he ran, he weighed his options. Rochelle would be feeling a little stronger after resting. They might be able to hike out to the country road where the accident had occurred. They’d have the cover of darkness in their favor, and they could walk parallel to the road until they found a place that was less steep. He stuttered in his step. Not the best plan. He had no idea what additional injury Rochelle had suffered from the second accident and he wasn’t doing too great, either. His best guess was that she wouldn’t be able to walk very far. They would have to hope a car picked them up right away.

Rochelle had been pretty certain the thug had friends who would come looking for her. Her kidnapper had been in rough shape, but it was probably too much to hope that he would just get a ride back into town.

Matthew pushed tree branches out of the way. He was getting close to where he’d left Rochelle. He shone the light. He could see where the snow was pressed down and the pile of branches he’d gathered for her to sit on, but no Rochelle. He wasn’t panicked. She might have gotten up to keep warm.

He followed the footprints in the snow that indicated which direction she’d gone, but they ended abruptly in a dry patch of ground. He was about to call her name when he heard a rustling in the trees, and then a man grunted. He turned off his flashlight and slipped behind an evergreen.

The crunching of footsteps told him the man was maybe ten feet away. Matthew scanned the darkness. Rochelle must have heard the man coming and hidden somewhere, too. He caught a flash of color as the man walked past him—not the same man who had been in the car accident, not Blondie. This guy was thin. He waited for the footsteps to fade. He could still see the flashlight bobbing in and out of the trees moving farther away.

“Rochelle.” Matthew’s voice came out in a harsh whisper. His muscles tensed when he didn’t hear anything.

He angled out from behind the tree and returned to where he’d seen her footprints. He slipped into the forest. When he looked over his shoulder, the flashlight of the thug was coming back toward the clearing.

He darted through the trees, his feet pounding against the frozen ground. His voice filled with desperation as he whispered, “Rochelle.”

“I’m here.” She appeared out of the darkness, still wearing his coat.

He grabbed her hand. “He’s coming back this way.”

He pulled her through the forest. He could hear the rapid crunching of their footsteps. The light came directly toward them. They’d been spotted. With Rochelle lagging behind him as he held on to her hand, he knew they weren’t going to outrun this guy. He guided her toward some brush hidden from the moonlight by a canopy of trees. They huddled low and close together waiting for the sound of passing footsteps. He listened to the ragged exhale and inhale of her breath. All this movement was hard on her. Moments later, footsteps crunched through the dry snow. They remained still, their shoulders touching, until the noise faded.

Finally, she released a heavy breath. “I think he’s gone...for now.”

“We should get up to the road.” What choice did they have but to try to get out that way? He rose to his feet and put out a hand to help her up. She groaned in pain as she got to her feet. The accident and all the running had weakened him, too. If his muscles ached, hers must be in worse shape.

As though she’d heard his thoughts, she said, “I’m okay.” But the waver in her voice gave away how much pain she was in.

He took her hand. “Hopefully, a driver will come along quickly before that guy comes back.”

They wove through the evergreens, finally emerging from a cluster of trees. Matthew dove to the ground, taking Rochelle with him. She groaned when she hit the ground. Two cars with the lights on were parked along the road. He lifted his head and counted at least three men patrolling the road.

Rochelle gasped, her voice filled with fear. “That’s Elwood Corben, the man who’s after me.”

She pointed toward a man standing beside one of the cars.

What could they do? Rochelle couldn’t keep moving, not in her condition. Running in the valley parallel to the road until they were out of sight of the patrollers might be too much for her. This Elwood Corben had brought some manpower with him. What if he had someone patrolling the road in a car? They might have to run for miles before they were in the clear.

“Come with me. I know a place we can hide for a while.” Moving away from the path, he wove through the trees, listening for the footfalls of the man searching the woods for them. Rochelle lagged behind him. When he turned to look at her, she was bent over though trudging forward. She lifted her head.

“We’re almost there.” He pressed his hands against her cheeks. “Can you make it?”

She nodded but then her head tilted back as she swayed. He caught her and carried her the remaining distance to the cabin, setting her on her feet outside the door. She continued to lean against him for support while he broke the window and reached in to unlatch the door. Because crime was not a huge issue around here, security measures were usually not extensive. He’d leave a note with his phone number explaining why they’d broken in and offering to pay for the window.

The cabin was one large room with an adjoining bathroom. Whoever lived here had left behind a minimum of possessions. Rochelle collapsed onto a couch that must fold out into a bed. He found a blanket and laid it over the top of her. He dare not build a fire in case the men got this far out with their search. His guess, though, was that they’d be watching the road for a long time before they changed tactics on their search.

The gash on her head had begun to bleed again. He dressed it and dug through his pockets for the remaining ibuprofen. There was no running water but he found some tomato juice in the pantry. She took the pill.

Worry colored her expression. “What are we going to do if they come here?”

“I’ll stay awake. If we have to run, we’ll run. As soon as we have a little light, we’ll find a way back into town.”

“I know you want me back in the hospital.” She gazed up at him with wide brown eyes. “But when we get back to town, we have to get my son first. Please.”

“Of course.” After all this, her focus was still her son. He slid down to the floor using the couch as a backrest. He wondered what he had gotten himself into. In a million years, he couldn’t imagine that all of this was because of a murder. “Rochelle, why didn’t you go to the police when you witnessed this man kill Jamie’s father?”

She closed her eyes and covered them with her hand. “He threated to hurt my family. It was ten years ago. I was young and scared and I ran away. But now he’s found me.”

“You can go to the police now and tell them everything that happened then and today. They will help you.” She looked so forlorn, so defeated, that he didn’t regret listening to his gut feeling. Rochelle had needed him. Still, he was in over his head.

There was a long moment of silence before she answered. “I want to believe that, but I saw Corben talking to a cop in the courthouse and...this is a small police department and he’s a powerful man. He’s had police on his payroll in Seattle.”

Her voice faded.

He rose to his feet, needing to get an idea of the layout of the house and to think over what she had said. She grabbed his hand.

“Matthew, you didn’t have to do all this, but I probably wouldn’t be alive without you.”

Her hand felt like silk in his. As he looked into her eyes, affection for her tugged at his heart. He pushed his feelings aside. The trouble she faced was complicated. Way more than he had bargained for. Whatever had sparked inside him in that moment when she touched his hand—this was not the time or place to dwell on it.

“Yeah, well, it was for the kid.” He pulled away and wandered through the house, not finding anything useful—some canned goods, but not a gun or anything he could use in self-defense. When he returned to the sofa, she was fast asleep.

He listened until her breathing became steady and deep. She looked almost peaceful as she slept. He found another blanket that he wrapped around his shoulders. He slipped down to the floor using the couch as a backrest. His reaction to her thank-you surprised him. Maybe it was just about all they had been through in the past ten hours. Women he’d rescued on calls sometimes sought him out afterward. He recognized that glow of affection when they said thank-you, and he knew that relationships born out of trauma never worked out.

The best thing to do was to get Rochelle back to town and call the police so that kid had a fighting chance at a normal life.

Ten minutes passed and he felt himself nod off and jerk awake, bracing for the possibility that Elwood Corben and his thugs might burst through the door at any moment.

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