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It could have been a cow or horse in one of the stalls. Her eyes adjusted to the enclosure. A loud moo came from a stall. Relieved, she made her way to stand behind a small tractor next to a stack of hay bales. She took the semiautomatic from her pocket, laying it carefully on a bale, then slipped out of her orange jumpsuit and into the flannel shirt and overalls. They draped to the floor. She adjusted the straps as high as they’d go but still had to fold the bottoms up.
The barn’s large entry door rolled open.
She froze and peered around the hay. The metal tones of predawn shadowed a tall, wiry man dressed in overalls, a flannel shirt, and work boots. She must be wearing his clothes. He stepped inside and flipped on a meager overhead light.
Pocketing the gun, she stashed the prison jumpsuit between some hay bales, then looked to see where he’d gone.
The man whistled a tune. A hymn of some kind? He’d moved on to the stall, picked up a stool, and opened the gate. “Good morning, Bessie, my dear. How was your night?”
He stroked the animal’s back. “What do you say I get you milked and then take you out to the pasture?” When he sat down, the stall concealed him.
This was Dania’s chance. She tiptoed to the barn door he’d left open and sneaked out. Scanning the yard, she spied a beat-up truck. Farmers tended to keep a good running pickup for as long as they could. With any luck, he’d be one who left the key inside.
She raced to the vehicle and crawled in.
No key.
Finding the truck had been too easy. She should have known this was too good to be true.
A kitchen light came on in the house. A woman stood at a window, probably over the sink. She didn’t peer out and seemed preoccupied, probably making breakfast. The thought of food made Dania’s stomach growl. She had to get out of here. If only the key had been in the ignition.
It might not have been there, but could be...She flipped down the visor, and the keys fell into her lap.Yes!
She glanced again at the kitchen window. The woman had moved away. Now was the perfect time to start the engine. She hated stealing the farmer’s truck, but she’d make it up to him someday, somehow.
She turned the key, and the engine roared to life. She shifted into first and pressed her foot on the accelerator. Where could she go to lie low for a while, where no one would look for her? Matthew used to go to Brett’s cabin high on Mount Rainy. It had belonged to Brett’s grandmother. Matthew would go there with him on fishing trips. It had to be at least a hundred miles away. That was too far from where the killer might be.
Besides, with her bad luck, if she went to the cabin, Brett would be there. He’d been out of the country during her trial, but surely, he was back. If so, why hadn’t he gotten in touch with her? Thinking about it, though, she couldn’t blame him. Whenever he’d been around, she’d treated him as if he’d had the plague.
She’d be okay. She’d been on her own for three long years. She could do this.
Down the road, she spied a Country Market sign. She needed food and supplies. Even though she had no money, she might be able to talk her way into getting something. As she drove closer, several police cars came into view.
Even at this early-morning hour, the place crawled with cops. They had to be looking for her. Should she turn the truck around? No, she’d draw too much attention if she did. Best to drive by.
Gripping the steering wheel tight, she cruised past. A deputy looked straight at her. Their eyes locked. The officer started yelling at the others and pointing at the truck.
Her heart sledgehammered against her chest. She could barely breathe.
She stomped on the gas and prayed she’d get away.
Chapter Five
The sun crept over themountaintops, sending rays of welcome light over the crime scene. Sitting at the table under the makeshift command post tent, Brett took a sip of coffee that had grown cold. Jasper sat close beside him.
Command was quiet right now.
Too quiet.
Irritatingly quiet. He, BB, and the snoring chopper pilot, who had fallen asleep sitting up, were the only ones there at the moment.
“We should have heard something by now.” Brett hated waiting.
“Do you want me to call someone?” BB pulled her cell to the ready.
“Nah.” Brett stood and started to pace.
Truth be told, he was worried about Dania. Had she been wounded? Was she even alive? His cell phone rang, almost making him drop his cup.
