She bent over. Fear-filled vomit gathered in her throat, but the hunted refused to fall prey to its weakness. The fight for her life was underway, and she straightened and jogged along the roadway, grateful for every bend that hid her from the persistent man who pursued her.
Melanie arrived at a fork and faltered. She had no idea where she was in Langley County.
Headlights blinded her from out of nowhere. “No,” Melanie groaned aloud. Anyone traveling these back roads at this time of night was probably not a good guy.
She turned to face the woods again, pressing back the tears threatening to zap what little energy remained in her overtaxed body. The will to run weakened. Her balance swayed during the impulsive twist, and she planted her face into a tree trunk. She bore the pain as the bark scratched her arms while falling in a heap on the ground. The car braked hard, illuminating her crouched figure in the glow of bright lights.
Melanie lifted a prayer to the heavens. The fight was over. This time, she wouldn’t escape her fate.
God promises to rescue us in our time of need.
Chapter 3
Melanie struggled to her feet, using her last burst of energy in an attempt at disappearing. She heard a voice whisper into the night, “Sis, is that you?”
Not, “Hey you,” or “Melanie,” but “Sis,” as in sister? It couldn’t be her brother. He lived in their home state of Georgia two hundred miles away. A hand reached out to grab her arm, and she swung around and met him face to face.
“Drew? My God, it is you. How?”
“No time for questions. Get into the car, and I’ll take you somewhere safe.”
Melanie allowed him to lead her to the passenger’s side and he gently push her inside. She leaned against the soft leather and watched him dash past the headlights and settle onto the driver’s seat.
“Don’t give up on me now, Sis. We’re almost clear.”
She closed her eyes when he ground the vehicle into gear and sped away. Melanie chanced a glimpse into the side mirror to see if her pursuer followed, but only ominous night shadows lingered in the dust of the car’s wheels.
Drew didn’t speak for a long time. An awkward silence filled the space between them, but her exhausted body ignored the obvious implications that her brother had somehow known about the plan that had gone down that night. Thankfully, his brotherly obligations overruled his involvement. At least, Melanie wasn’t going to die today.
“There’s a blanket in the back seat. Pull it over you – you’re all wet,” Drew said.
When Melanie didn’t reach for it or acknowledge his words, he threw his arm over the seat and tossed the woolen blanket in her direction. “Cover up, Mel. I’ll have you in a warm bath soon.”
A warm bath. Now, that was something worth thinking about. It sure beat the torturous rewind of the night’s events so far. She glanced sideways and confirmed, for sanity’s sake, that Drew was driving and that she was, indeed, safe. The mind is a fickle thing; always seeking confirmation.
Weakness had consumed her by the time they’d reached their destination. She gazed blankly at Drew as he held the door open. He cussed when she didn’t perform her usual jump through the door routine, and he reached in and picked her up in his arms.
“Mel, you’re as light as a feather. Hope you’re not on one of those blasted diets Mom always tried pushing on you. A girl should have some meat on her bones.”
Melanie heard him like some distant echo, but she didn’t have the energy to tell him not to worry – diet was the last thing she considered when sitting down to a meal laden with carbs and sugar. Body strength and stamina had fed her plight that night. After all, she’d just swam against the current, pulled her body up the riverbank, ran through the underbrush, and climbed a steep hill, all to escape her would-be murderers. Her drugged mind had zapped her thought processes, rendering her independent Georgia sass barely visible. Melanie surrendered to the docile woman that had invaded her body, and she gave in and rested her head on his shoulder. Before she closed her eyes, The Inn of Refuge’s motel sign registered in her mind. How appropriate was that?
Drew slid in keycard while still holding her tightly in his arms. Once inside, he plunked her down on the edge of the bed and fumbled with the arms of her summer sweater. “Mel, snap out of it! What happened to that independent spitfire deputy you claim to be?”
Tears trickled down her cheeks, silently acknowledging her embarrassment. She, too, wondered why the brave, trained officer had abandoned her emotionally.
“Well, I’m not going to undress my own sister. Help me out here.”
That sounded reasonable. Undressing was a necessary task before a bath, so she mustered the necessary motivation and shoved him away. “Where’s the bathroom?”
Melanie stumbled in the direction Drew had pointed, and she disappeared inside. She flipped the switch, and light flooded the room, causing her to blink against its blinding glare. The tub came into focus, and while she was still leaning against the wall, she bent over and turned on the faucet. She peeled off the wet garments clinging to her form, left them lying in a heap on the floor, and stepped in, holding the sidewall to stay balanced. The sudden heat stole her breath, but she ignored it and dropped onto the porcelain bottom, groaning aloud with a mixture of pain and delight.
“Are you all right in there?”
“Yes, Drew,” she answered. “Thank you.”
The clear water that had lured her in, soon turned a mucky combination of gravel-brown and blood-red. The layers
