Framed For Murder. Mary Alford

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СКАЧАТЬ the ignition still. Don kept his passkey secured underneath the driver’s seat. Liz fired the tired old vehicle up and eased toward the back entrance of the compound knowing full well the noise would carry. Hopefully, no one was around to hear it. When she reached the gate, she swiped the key and the gate slowly opened.

      “Come on, come on,” she whispered with urgency while keeping a careful eye behind her.

      The gate finally opened enough to allow the truck to pass through. Once she’d cleared it, she floored the gas pedal.

      It was a good ten-minute drive to Michael’s hunting cabin under the best of conditions. Running for her freedom and constantly checking the rearview mirror expecting trouble made those ten minutes feel like a lifetime.

      Once she reached Michael’s property, a single strand of barbed wire was all that kept curious onlookers away. Liz flipped the truck lights on bright and got out. A sense of being watched made her reach for the night vision binoculars she’d shoved in her bag last-minute. She scanned the surrounding area expecting someone to have followed her. She felt hunted and she had no idea who was coming after her. But nothing beyond a few animals searching for food stirred the quiet of the early morning.

      Discovering her backup weapon was missing felt like the final nail had been driven into her coffin. She had no doubt the Glock would turn up eventually and be matched to Michael’s murder weapon and then Aaron wouldn’t have a choice. He’d have to take her into custody and she couldn’t allow that to happen. If she did, she wouldn’t leave prison alive.

      With her freedom slipping away, there was only one option left. Run.

      Liz undid the makeshift gate leading to Michael’s cabin. The grown-up path that served as a road didn’t appear to have seen any traffic in a long time. Still, if she wanted to stay under the radar, she’d have to find a place to hide Don’s truck.

      Once she’d cleared her name and the real killer was in custody, she’d let Don know where she’d left the truck.

      Liz relocked the gate and eased down the path. Overgrown weeds slapped at the truck’s undercarriage. After a series of double-back bends, the headlights found Michael’s one-room cabin. Tucked in close to the side of the place, his primer gray–colored Jeep was parked under a ponderosa pine.

      Nothing about the cabin or the wreck of a Jeep was encouraging. What if the battery had drained due to the cold weather and lack of use? She didn’t even know if it was in working order.

      As hard as she tried to shut out her worries, she couldn’t. She had no idea who was trying to set her up. What if the text message was sent to throw her off and get her out in the open and unprotected? The real killer could be waiting inside the cabin right now.

      Liz closed her eyes and prayed fervently, then let God have her worries. She’d need a level head to make it through this thing alive. She couldn’t afford to fall apart now.

      She parked the truck some distance from the cabin in the shelter of a grove of aspens and peered out the window at the desolate surroundings. A shiver sped up her spine.

      Michael told her once that he’d grown up hunting and fishing in Montana. He spoke fondly of his father who had passed away when he was a teen. Yet whenever she’d asked more about his family or his past, his answers were vague. She sensed that his childhood might have been troubled, so she’d let it go. Now she wished she’d been more persistent.

      The envelope she’d found at his place called out to her from the passenger seat.

      As much as she trusted Aaron with her life, she had to know what was in that envelope before she told him about it. What if something in there implicated her?

      Desperate for answers, she ripped it open. A key fell out onto her hand. She turned it over. It appeared to be a house key, but what did it fit? Michael’s hunting cabin didn’t have a lock. He said he kept it secure by propping a chair in front of the door.

      More confused than ever, she pulled out the single piece of paper left inside. It contained a rudimentary map and directions to a remote cabin near Black Bear, Alaska, where Michael went salmon fishing. But it was what was scribbled in the note beneath the map that was most alarming. From the handwriting she could tell Michael had written it in a hurry.

      Liz, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. If you’re reading this note, then I’m probably dead and you could be next...

      Please forgive me. Tears filled her eyes. What had Michael done?

      Go to the cabin in Black Bear. Everything will be explained when you get there. Call Rick Evans. He’s a friend and he can fly you to Black Bear. You can trust him. Rick operates out of a private airstrip near Talkeetna, Alaska. Once you reach Black Bear, talk to a woman by the name of Jessie Chena who can get you to the cabin. I’ve hidden a fireproof box filled with evidence at the cabin. Get there and make sure you don’t tell anyone from the team where you’re going.

      Both Jessie and Rick’s phone numbers were written at the bottom of the note.

      Don’t tell anyone from the team where you’re going.

      Why hadn’t Michael trusted his own team?

      Under the best of conditions, Talkeetna, Alaska, was a fifty-six-hour drive from Colorado. Running for her life in a vehicle that was questionable at best, she’d be forced to take as many back roads as possible, which meant the drive would take even longer. Flying was out of the question. She wouldn’t make it through the first security check.

      With her heart in her throat, she eased from the truck. She hadn’t felt this alone since learning Eric had been killed while on that final mission for the CIA. The days following his death had been filled with crippling grief and long, lonely nights. The pain almost physical.

      Now, every little noise had her jumping, expecting the enemy. Aaron. The team she’d vowed to protect had now become her enemy and it was a bitter pill to swallow.

      She’d covered only a handful of steps when a noise behind her grabbed her full attention. It sounded like...a footstep on the creaky porch. Someone was here.

      Liz whirled with her weapon drawn. “Who’s there?” Her breathless voice chilled in the early morning cold.

      “Drop the weapon, Liz...” Aaron’s normally smooth-as-caramel Southern drawl held a steely edge to it she’d never heard before. He’d found her. Anticipated her next move.

      He stepped closer, the look in his eyes matching his tone. Just for a second she lost what little bit of hope she still clung to. Did he think she was capable of killing Michael?

      “Aaron, you scared me.” Her voice shook slightly, her nerves wrecked.

      “You need to come with me, Liz,” he said quietly with regret on his face.

      She swallowed back the betrayal she felt at those words. She wouldn’t blame Aaron. He was just doing the job he’d been tasked to do.

      “I—I can’t do that. I didn’t kill Michael, but someone wants you to think that I did.”

      His face twisted with gut-wrenching pain. “I know you didn’t kill him, but running makes you look guilty. Come with me. I promise we’ll figure it out together. You’ll be treated fairly.”

      She stepped СКАЧАТЬ