The Alvarez & Pescoli Series. Lisa Jackson

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СКАЧАТЬ sharp shard of memory cut through her brain as once again she heard the crack of a rifle and then her car was spinning out of control, rotating fast toward the sharp ravine….

      Her heart froze and her throat went dry in fear.

      She needed to leave.

      To find a way out of this place.

      Now!

      Using the damned crutch, she gently pushed the door open further and braced herself, certain someone or something would leap out at her.

      A beat-up leather sofa sat near the stone fireplace and backed up to her bedroom. Another chair with a lumpy ottoman was situated nearby and a recliner, complete with sleeping bag, was tucked into the corner that was dominated by floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. On the opposite wall, a bank of glass windows was protected by the overhang of a long porch with exposed rafters. The cabin was on a hill, but the view, if there was one, was obscured by a thick veil of heavy, swirling snow that had blown over the floorboards of the porch.

      Outside was a whiteout.

      She couldn’t see ten feet beyond the porch. But she could hear the ferocity of the wind, feel it shake this old wood-and-rock building.

      Her heart sank.

      Any thought of leaving here, of seeking help, was obliterated by the storm. She was stuck here for the time being. “Wonderful,” she muttered under her breath as she turned slowly to look around, a sharp pain in her chest reminding her she’d probably cracked a rib or two in the accident.

      As she’d thought the cabin was empty. No one around. Inside the massive stone fireplace the flames eagerly licked at a chunk of wood, casting blood-red shadows and shifting shapes on the rock and windows.

      It’s not creepy. It’s cozy.

      “Yeah, right.”

      Steadfastly ignoring the pain in her ankle, she hobbled to what she thought was the gun closet. Sure enough, it was locked, no key in sight. So much for getting lucky.

      Moving onward, she hitched her way through an open doorway and found a tiny kitchen with scarred wooden counters and rustic cupboards that looked over a hundred years old. But there was a sink and faucet, so running water did exist, evidenced by the slow trickle coming out of the tap. At least she didn’t have to try and make her way through three-foot snowdrifts to an outhouse. She hitched her way through the kitchen to a narrow door at the far end of the room. It opened to a cold, compact bathroom with cracked linoleum and a tiny window poised over a claw-foot tub with a shower. Along one wall was a toilet and a small vanity with a sink. On the other was a washer and dryer and an old cupboard.

      “All the comforts of home,” she muttered and wasted no time closing the door, grabbing onto the sink with one hand and, using the crutch, propelling herself to the toilet. After relieving herself, she stood at the sink and caught a glimpse of her face in the mirror. Her hair was a mess, oily and tangled, her face bruised, the white of one eye bloodshot. “Cute,” she muttered as she took the time to splash water over her face and refused to think about the throb of her aching chest and injured ankle.

      She didn’t have any time to lose.

      She needed to figure out how to get the hell out of here and somehow get in contact with civilization. She could grab a gun and ammunition from his closet, pull on the warmest clothes she could find and…and…and what? Hobble down the hillside in the middle of a blizzard with one crutch?

      Maybe there was a vehicle. A four-wheel-drive truck or snowmobile or something…even a damned horse. She moved to the back door and peered through the icy panels. Yes, there were a few other buildings. One could be a garage. And one a barn. But they were slippery paths and huge drifts along the way. “Damn it all.”

      She opened two drawers before she found the knife, a thin, long-bladed filet knife, perfect for cutting flesh from bone. Or for protecting herself. Holding the weapon tight, she worked her way to the living area again and saw not only snowshoes but skis mounted on the wall.

      Lots of good those would do her.

      The phone!

      Damn it, Jillian, what have you been thinking? Where’s the friggin’ phone?

      Propelling herself back into the kitchen again, she saw no evidence of a telephone, and when she flipped a light switch, nothing happened. The power was out. No surprise there, with the intensity of this storm.

      No phones in the kitchen.

      Back to that large hall-like main room.

      Once through the doorway, she looked around for a land line, a cell phone or a computer, any device she could use to contact the outside world once the electricity was restored. She needed to get out of here, to let someone know where she was, to…Where the hell was it?

      Her ankle throbbing, she moved around the perimeter of the main room. Wasn’t there a land line? A modem for computer service? Even a stupid television?

      Careful, Jillian, your city-girl roots are showing.

      There had been a time when she and Aaron had backpacked through areas that had been undeveloped. They’d slept under the stars, washed themselves in mountain lakes, eschewed all the comforts and stress of modern life.

      Aaron.

      Memories of hiking through the wilderness assailed her. Pacific rain forests of the Olympic Peninsula, the mountainous trails of the Cascades in Oregon, exploring the alpine meadows of the San Juans, discovering remote sections of Colorado and the everglades in Florida. But the ultimate trip, the one they’d planned and saved for and talked about in every conversation for nearly a year, had been the adventure of a lifetime, a long backpacking trek through the wilds of South America, where he’d disappeared and died.

      Or not.

      She grabbed a corner of the table to steady herself as another wave of memories washed over her. Aaron was the reason she’d left Seattle. Someone had sent her pictures of a man claiming to be him, someone in Missoula. That’s why she was driving through the mountains when she’d heard the rifle shot….

      Her knees quivered as she again remembered that distinctive crack of a rifle. Then her tire had blown and her car had spun over the edge of the cliff and…and someone had intentionally caused her car to careen into the frozen ravine? Someone had tried to kill her?

      Why?

      Who even knew she would be driving through these mountains?

      The caller, you idiot! The damned person who sent you the pictures that were supposedly of Aaron. He lured you here and he’s probably the stranger who “saved” you. Remember, there’s a killer on the loose up here.

      Oh God, oh God, oh God…

      Her heart jackhammered. She couldn’t run away. Couldn’t get far at all in her injured state with a storm raging through these mountains. For the love of God, she didn’t even know where she was. But somewhere, he had her cell phone and some means by which to leave this tiny cabin.

      Thud!

      Startled, she jumped at the noise and turned swiftly only to realize the sound СКАЧАТЬ