Love Inspired Suspense June 2014 Bundle 2 of 2: Forced Alliance\Out for Justice\No Place to Run (55 page)

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Authors: Marion Faith Carol J.; Laird Lenora; Post Worth

Tags: #Fluffer Nutter, #dpgroup.org

BOOK: Love Inspired Suspense June 2014 Bundle 2 of 2: Forced Alliance\Out for Justice\No Place to Run
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“But what if he wants to call me and keeps getting routed to voice mail? Won't that make him angry?”

Matt's expression was grave. “He's angry already. This will simply make it harder for him to find you.”

If he hasn't already...
The thought hung unspoken in the air between them.

“What about Mom's and Dad's phones?”

“Let's leave it at yours for now, until we know more.”

“Fine.”

They carried out the plan, stopping to buy a cheap phone with about fifty dollars' worth of time on it.

Lorie couldn't help wondering whether they were doing the right thing, removing their line of communication with the stalker. On the one hand, it took away the chance of his tracking her by her phone. On the other hand, it lost them any chance of being able to trace him in turn, or trick him into revealing his plans. After all, if she hadn't gotten the phone call from him earlier, she wouldn't have even realized her parents were in danger. What other crucial information might she miss? Only time would tell, and time was running out.

FIFTEEN

M
att headed back toward the ranch the long way around, taking the scenic route through Lanier County. Despite gathering clouds, the pines and oaks lining the
winding mountain road made Matt feel a million miles from danger. It took conscious effort not to let down his guard.

“I always forget how beautiful Lanier County is.” Margaret sighed from the backseat. “How come we don't drive over here more often, Ben?”

“We get busy in our little rut, I guess, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. Matt had noticed that Ben frequently called his wife
honey
and
sweetheart.
Matt had always considered endearments annoying. Now the
words sounded charming. Would Lorie like being called
sweetheart,
he wondered, or would she prefer something more like
sweetie
or
sugar,
or
sweet face?
She did have a very sweet face. It matched her personality. He'd thought that, after Lorene, maybe he'd never find a woman he could love for the rest of his life. Of course, he wasn't sure Lorie filled that bill, but he'd had an unrealistic list of characteristics he'd expected in his future wife.

If the list he recalled was accurate, he'd wanted a good housekeeper who was beautiful, wanted half a dozen children—three of each gender—and someone who could cook and loved the Lord. Not only would she not mind his hunting and fishing every now and again but she'd also know how to dress a deer as well as gut and scale fish.

Since meeting Lorie, however his ideals had begun to change. He couldn't picture her field dressing a deer, but he could see her with children clustered around her as she read to them, probably using all kinds of interesting voices. He pictured her walking hand in hand with him through the meadow, picking wildflowers. He could even see her up on horseback, riding along beside him, a Stetson on her head and new Justin Boots on her feet, with denim Wranglers and a snap-front shirt in between.

In short, his new ideal was beginning to look more and more like Lorie Narramore. But was he allowing dreams to take the place of reality again? He'd had his future with Lorene all planned out in his head, never realizing how it was all falling apart in front of him. What secrets or surprises was Lorie keeping from him? Was she really guilty, as her stalker claimed?

In this conflicted state of mind, as they rounded a sloping curve on Chastain Mountain, he wasn't prepared for Lorie's scream.

“Look out!”

The oversize black Ram pickup truck struck the side of their car. Matt fought for control of the steering wheel.

A second sideswipe sent them flying off the road. Losing control of the brakes and steering, they careened down the mountainside, the car tumbling like a rockslide, bouncing and flipping before it came to rest, wedged between several pine trees.

Matt blacked out.

* * *

Lorie awoke in pain. Oh, she had a really
bad
headache. She could taste blood. And she felt dizzy, like she was standing on her head or something. She heard a whimpering noise behind her.

“It's okay.” Dad's voice sounded shaky. “It's okay, Meg, my love. We're alive.”

“But what about Lorie?”

Lorie tried to speak, but her voice came out in a hoarse whisper. Clearing her throat, she tried again. “I think I'm alive. What happened?”

“A truck ran us off the road.” Dad sounded as though he were moving around.

Lorie took stock of her surroundings. She almost
was
upside down. More like three-quarters of the way flipped over, and part of her was crushing Matt.

“Matt. Matt, are you okay? Can you hear me?”

Matt groaned, and it was a beautiful sound. He was alive.

“Wake up, Matt. Are you hurt?”

“Anybody get the number of the locomotive that hit us?”

Lorie sighed with relief. He must be all right. His sense of humor was intact.

“We've got to get out of here.”

“Where's here?”

“I think we landed in some trees.”

“Do you have one of those safety escape devices to cut the seat belts, maybe break open a window?” Dad asked.

“In the front pocket. Can you reach it, Lorie? I'd try, but you're blocking my arm.”

Lorie felt like she'd pass out any minute, from being suspended from the seat belt and harness. “I'll see.”

She reached for the pocket, aware that opening it could dump all the contents on her and scatter them out of reach. But she had to do it, and soon. If all those shows on TV were right, the damage the car had taken in the fall meant the gas tank could explode. At the very least, the people who'd driven them off the road might arrive to make sure they were dead.

Help me, Lord.

The car pocket was jammed. Lorie pushed the button again and again to gain access, but it wasn't budging.

“It won't open.”

“Probably the angle. Try pushing and holding it down.”

Hard. It was too hard. But Lorie could smell gasoline leaking—if the gas tank had been damaged then they were in serious trouble. It might burst into flames at any moment. Especially if the people who'd run them off the road came down and tossed a match. They wouldn't even have to shoot them. They could burn them alive and be done with it. Everyone would think it was an accident.

Lorie shivered.
Please Lord, help me open the pocket and get the escape device. I can't do it on my own.

Lorie pressed the button again, and tried sticking her thumbnail in the seam where the door fastened. Maybe she could pry it open.

The door wiggled a tiny bit.

“It's moving, I think...”

Lorie tried the maneuver again.

Her thumbnail broke.

“Ouch.”

“Are you hurt?” Mom's voice sounded as though she were fighting panic.

“No, just broke a nail. I'll be fine as soon as we get out of here.”

Her thumbnail had been stronger than her fingernails. Lorie wished she had superstrong nails, or at least acrylic nails, instead of the short length she kept for work and for playing the piano.

Lord...

“If I could only reach my purse.” She struggled, making the attempt, but hanging upside down, it was impossible. “Everybody pray with me that it'll open this time. If we all agree in faith...”

“Lord, we ask You to help Lorie get that pocket open, in Jesus's name.” Dad spoke up quickly, before Matt could.

Matt moaned again.

Lorie didn't think the sound was so beautiful now, because he sounded as though he were in serious pain. He needed a doctor. They probably all did.

“Okay. Here goes. One. Two. THREE.”

Lorie gave a tremendous push and pulled on the seam with all her might. It gave, and the contents spilled past her overturned lap.

“Ouch.” The tool they needed hit Lorie's neck, slicing a hole in it.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, Mom.”
I'll fix me later.

She took the device off her throat and slipped the blade onto her seat belt harness.

“Don't fall on your head, baby.”

“She won't,” Matt assured her. “She'll fall on me.”

“Oh, dear.”

Lorie pushed the cutter across the webbing. It was sturdy, and didn't want to give way to the blade. Lorie sawed at it.

This will work. Lord, please let this work.

When the webbing was nearly sliced through, it gave way, and Lorie fell onto Matt's shoulder. He made a stifled
mpfh
sound.

“I didn't hurt you, did I?”

“I'm fine. Just get me out of here, and then we'll get your parents free.”

Lorie turned in the close quarters. Her face hovered above his.

“Oh, you
are
hurt.” Blood trickled from a cut in his forehead. He must have hit his head on the steering wheel. The lack of frontal impact kept the air bag from deploying, so there had been no cushioning at all for the blow.

“Never mind that now. We'll get medical help later. First, we have to get out of here. Can you cut me loose?”

Lorie tried to nod, but in their upside-down situation, it was impossible. “I
will
cut you loose, with God's help.”

She started sawing on Matt's seat belt. That close to him, she could see little speckles of green in his blue eyes. She hadn't noticed those before. Well, she'd never been this close to him before, aside from the time
when she'd cried all over him, and then her eyes had been unfocused with tears.

Help, Lord. Now is not the time.

She freed him more quickly than she'd been able to cut herself loose, since she was no longer hampered by the friction against her belt. And the closer she came to releasing him, the more a single, ridiculous thought ran through her mind.

Hold me.

But she couldn't say that. Even though it was all she wanted. To get out of this car, rescue Mom and Dad, and then have Matt wrap his arms around her and never let go. Maybe throw in a few kisses for good measure.

But this was neither the time nor the place for that sort of nonsense. Even after they escaped from the car, their situation would still be dangerous. They were injured, without transport, miles from anywhere with no one sure of their exact location except for the maniac who had driven them off the road.

Matt snapped the rest of the webbing before Lorie finished cutting.

“Now, break open that window. You'll have to crawl out first.”

Lorie shook her head. “I don't want to rain glass on you.”

“Don't worry about that. I'll hold you up.”

Matt's strong hands pushed Lorie's back up into a position where she could get a whack at the window. The glass only cracked when she first hit it.

“Hit it really hard. Give it all you've got. We'll close our eyes. Cover your eyes back there if you can.”

“Got it,” Dad said.

“Mine are covered, too,” Mom piped in.

“All right. Hit it again, and this time pretend it's the person who's been tormenting you and threatening your parents.”

Lorie pulled back and whacked the window, picturing a nameless villain standing there. “Take that, you coward!” The window shattered, raining glass pebbles on them.

Able at last to reach her purse, she slung the strap over her arm. Lorie reached outside the window, cutting her hand on something sharp, and tried to pull herself through. Soon she'd be free at last. But what if they couldn't get her parents out? What then?

* * *

Matt gave Lorie a boost out through the window.

“She's out.”

“Oh, thank the Lord!” Margaret exclaimed.

“We'll get you out of here in just a minute.”

Matt reached up to grab the door frame. Lorie was still on the door.

“Jump down. I need to get up there.”

“I can't.”

“Yes, you can. I have confidence you can do anything you set your mind to. So, set your mind to getting down from there, so I can get out of the car and rescue your parents.”

Matt hoped he didn't sound too harsh. He'd apologize later, after they were out of this fix.

The car rocked, and Matt heard Lorie squeak, immediately followed by a rustling crash. A rush of concern constricted his chest.

“You okay?”

“I'll be fine. Let's get Mom and Dad out of there.”

Matt looked back at Ben and Margaret. “We'll have you two out of here in a jiffy.”


Jiffy
doesn't matter, as long as
out of here
is fairly quick.”

Matt smiled. As his ranching ancestors might have said, Ben had sand.

Matt pulled himself up through the window and bit his lip. He hadn't realized in what a precarious situation the car was. If the trees hadn't stopped their descent, they'd have fallen all the way down the side of Chastain Mountain into Lanier Creek.

Thank You, Lord. Even in this, Your hand was upon us.

The entire back end of the car had caved in. That Lorie's parents hadn't been crushed showed that God was taking care of them.

But as grateful as he was for the trees, they weren't exactly designed to hold a three-thousand-pound car in place. If they jostled things too much getting Ben and Margaret out, the car could go into free fall again.

Of course, based on the way it was swaying, that might happen no matter what they did.

Matt looked around for Lorie.

“Down here.”

Lorie had fallen farther down the side of the mountain, and was resting against the trunk of a black walnut tree. Pine tar covered her hands and a good deal of her Sunday dress.

“You all right?”

“I think so.”

The car wobbled again.

Don't let it fall just yet, Lord. Help us to get Ben and Margaret out of there.

Matt extricated himself from the car window, pulling himself out and moving slowly as he could off the car. He pulled the emergency device out of his pocket.

“Cover your eyes again,” he instructed the Narramores. “I'm going to smash your window.”

Ben and Margaret obeyed. Matt gave the window a mighty blow that shattered it instantly.

Margaret hung almost on top of Ben, the way Lorie had been on him. Matt grasped Margaret's hand so she wouldn't fully drop onto her husband when she was freed, then cut the seat belt with his other hand. Margaret's hand in his was warm and steady, and her grip was firm. He saw what Lorie meant. Her parents
were
tough. His admiration for her and for them rose another notch.

Matt stuck the emergency device back in his pocket and grabbed Margaret's other hand. “Ben, if you can push while I pull... We need to get Margaret out of here without hurting her.”

“Gotcha.”

The maneuver was tricky, but with Ben's help, Margaret came through the lower window much more easily than Lorie had, even with a purse twice the size of her daughter's.

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