Her Winter of Darkness

by Melinda Woodhall

  Her Winter Of Darkness

  A Veronica Lee Thriller: Book Three

  Melinda Woodhall

  Her Winter of Darkness Copyright © 2020 by Melinda Woodhall. All Rights Reserved.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Melinda Woodhall

  Visit my website at www.melindawoodhall.com

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing: September 2020

  Creative Magnolia

  For Tilly

  Chapter One

  Heavy footsteps pounded overhead as Astrid Peterson curled her body into a fetal position on the small, hard cot and wrapped thin arms around her legs. She flinched as an angry shout echoed in the room above, then squeezed her eyes shut against the harsh light coming from the bare bulb above her.

  The man who had brought her to the underground bunker called it a safe room, but Astrid knew she was anything but safe as long as she was at the mercy of her hard-faced captor.

  Forcing her eyes open again, Astrid studied the series of marks she’d scratched on the wall beside the cot. Each mark represented an endless day of anguish and regret.

  How could I have been so stupid? Why did he have to pick me?

  The Professor had seemed so innocuous and helpful. His brow had wrinkled into fatherly concern at her distress, and he’d offered to show her around campus, explaining with a reassuring smile that most freshman got lost their first day of classes, and that he would help her find her way.

  Thinking of that terrible, fateful day, Astrid wondered where she would be now if only she’d kept on walking. If only she’d listened to all those warnings not to trust strangers. Would she be in class listening to a lecture, instead of trapped in an underground bunker listening to a madman’s ravings?

  Astrid stared in numb despair at the hundreds of marks on the wall. The tiny scratches didn’t lie. Almost two years had come and gone. She’d been taken in late summer. A year had slipped by, and another was halfway through. Snow would be thick on the ground outside.

  Her heart squeezed at the thought of a winter white landscape like the one she’d grown up in, but she pushed away the memories of her family back home. That would only make her cry, and she’d already shed enough tears for a lifetime.

  Stifling a scream as the hatch in the ceiling swung open without warning, Astrid turned to see the retractable ladder drop down into the middle of the little room. She braced herself to face the Professor’s rage, but instead saw Skylar’s slim legs descending.

  The girl’s silvery blonde hair was pulled back in her usual braid, and her eyes remained downcast as she set Astrid’s lunch on a small table. The girl then looked up to where the Professor was staring down through the open hatch.

  “You’ll stay in the safe room today, girl,” the Professor called down to Skylar, sounding distracted. “And keep that one quiet. I have important business to attend to.”

  Skylar blinked up at the man’s weathered face and cold, green eyes, then turned and opened the little door that led into the adjoining room without responding. The Professor watched Skylar’s slim figure disappear into the other room with narrowed eyes.

  Astrid braced herself for the usual threats or reprimands, but the Professor’s face disappeared, and the hatch fell shut with a thud.

  Listening for the click of the lock that would let her know the Professor was really gone, at least for the time being, Astrid suddenly realized that the ladder was still hanging in the middle of the room. Her gaze lifted to the ceiling, and she held her breath.

  He didn’t lock the hatch, and the ladder is still down.

  She waited, wondering if he was planning to come back, but the only sound she could hear was the Professor’s big boots stomping away across the floor.

  Astrid’s heart began to pound in her chest at the faint sound of a door slamming. After all this time, had the Professor finally made a mistake? Or was he trying to trick her into disobeying his rules?

  A shiver of fear rolled up her spine at the memory of what the Professor had done to the last girl who had broken his rules.

  Moving to the thin wooden door that separated the two small underground rooms, Astrid knocked softly before opening it to reveal Skylar sitting in a straight-backed chair.

  The younger girl looked up guiltily from the book she was holding. Astrid saw that it was her own paperback copy of Pride and Prejudice. She’d had it in her bookbag the day she’d met the Professor.

  “Sorry,” Skylar stammered. “I know this is yours, but I-”

  “It’s yours now.” Astrid’s voice was breathless with the thought of escape. “Do you know why the Professor is so angry?”

  Skylar hugged the book to her chest and shrugged.

  “He saw something on his computer that made him mad,” she said, swallowing hard. “I haven’t seen him that mad since…well…”

  The girl’s soft voice trailed off as a shadow passed over her pale face. Shaking her head as if to clear the disturbing memory, Skylar lifted the book and opened it to the page she’d been reading. Her lips began to move silently as her eyes focused on the page.

  Skylar had once again retreated into the inner world where she seemed to live most of the time. Studying the small, bent head, Astrid felt a tug of pity. Best to let the poor girl find escape in her book. Reality would come crashing back soon enough.

  Turning in the doorway with a sigh, Astrid stared at the ladder, nervously twisting a long strand of strawberry blonde hair that fell over her thin shoulder. Was the ladder a chance for escape, or a trap?

  She looked back at Skylar with a worried frown, then closed the door firmly between them. If it was a trick, it wouldn’t be fair to subject her to the Professor’s wrath. She couldn’t risk putting the girl in mortal danger.

  But this may be my only chance to get out of here…to get home.

  Crossing to the ladder, Astrid found herself climbing up before she could decide what she’d do once she got to the top. When her head brushed against the rough wood of the hatch, she hesitated only a moment before lifting a trembling hand. With a firm push, the hatch lifted several inches to reveal a view of the sunlit room above.

  Astrid had been taken up to the ground floor before, but she’d never been left up there on her own, and she’d never had the opportunity to look around for a means of escape.

  Now her scared eyes darted around the room, and she scurried to the wide windows, momentarily stunned by the blinding white of the snow falling on the already covered lawn beyond.

  Tall, snow-capped trees could be seen behind the tall security fence that encircled the big property. She imagined the miles of frozen, unforgiving forest that waited past the fence.

  The Professor had warned her often enough that the ranch was in the middle of nowhere. He’d assured her that if she somehow managed to escape, the mountain lions, grizzly bears, and grey wolves would be sure to find her before any people would.

  She’d considered his threats to be just another ploy to keep her docile, but the daunting view out the window caused her heart to drop. Once she was outside, where would she go?

  Pushing away the disturbing question, Astrid began to move toward the room’s only exit. From what she could remember, the door opened t
o the foyer, offering a way out through the big house’s front door.

  Before Astrid could cross the room, a familiar ping caused her to freeze in place. She turned her head to see a laptop computer open on a sleek, glass-topped desk. The sound she’d heard must have been some sort of alert. The same kind she’d often used as a student to remind her she needed to leave for class.

  She hurried to the desk, suddenly lightheaded at the possibility of using the device to communicate with the outside world. If she was lucky, she’d be able to call for help. The nightmare of the last few years might be over.

  Staring down at the brightly lit screen, Astrid saw that the Professor had left a web browser window open to a news site. She read the headline above the featured video report.

  The Shameful Truth About Human Trafficking in the Sunshine State.

  Her blue eyes widened as she realized the Professor must have watched the video. Perhaps that’s why he’d gotten so angry.

  She quickly scanned the website but didn’t recognize the name of the news station. She’d never heard of Channel Ten News in Willow Bay, Florida.

  Before she could stop herself, Astrid reached out a trembling finger to tap the smooth surface of the laptop’s trackpad.

  The screen came to life as the video began to play. A reporter stood in front of a swaying palm tree, her long dark hair lifting in the gentle breeze as she faced the camera with a serious expression.

  “Public outrage is boiling over as an ever-growing number of women and children in South Florida are being exploited or forced into servitude and captivity by organized trafficking networks.”

  The reporter’s grim expression matched her sobering words.

  “I’m Veronica Lee, and this is the first in a series of investigative reports Channel Ten will present on the scourge of human trafficking in our community, as well as the efforts local and federal officials are making to combat the problem.”

  Astrid tapped again on the trackpad, trying to silence the woman’s loud voice, terrified that the Professor would slam into the room at any minute as the reporter gestured to what appeared to be a police station behind her.

  “Local police departments throughout the region are teaming up with the FBI’s Human Trafficking Task Force to combat this rising threat to the most vulnerable members of society.”

  Finally managing to stop the video, the room fell into silence as tears sprang to Astrid’s eyes. It seemed like the earnest young reporter had been speaking directly to her.

  Maybe if I can reach that reporter, she’ll send someone to find me.

  Astrid hesitated beside the desk, hope and fear blooming in her chest. Should she spend precious time attempting to send a message, or would it make more sense to run now, while she still had the chance to get away?

  And what if the Professor had set her up? What if it was part of some kind of sick test to see what she’d do?

  The demented bastard is trying to trick me. He’s probably outside right now waiting for me to run so he can chase me down like the others.

  But the possibility that the Professor was setting some kind of twisted trap couldn’t stop her now. This might be her only chance to escape, and if she had any hope of surviving the harsh conditions outside the compound, she’d need help.

  Sinking into the chair in front of the desk, Astrid clicked on the email icon. An error message flashed across the screen.

  Facial Recognition Failed. Try again or enter password to access email.

  Holding back the wave of panic that threatened, she navigated back to the web browser and studied the Channel Ten News page.

  Jumping at the sound of a car door slamming outside, Astrid glanced toward the window with frightened eyes, but could see nothing beyond the white blur of falling snow.

  She looked back to the screen and clicked defiantly on the Leave a Comment option under the video. With shaking hands, she began to type, determined to let someone out there know that she was still alive, and that she and Skylar needed help.

  Footsteps pounded up the porch steps as Astrid clicked on Submit Comment and jumped up from the chair to scurry through the doorway into the darkened hall beyond. She could hear the Professor stomping his snow-crusted boots on the doormat outside.

  Holding her breath, Astrid crouched behind a thick winter parka and heavy woolen scarf hanging on the coatrack by the door. The door swung open, letting in a burst of frigid air and a spatter of snow.

  The Professor’s shadow fell across the floor in front of Astrid as he stopped on the mat just inside the door, stomping his feet again to knock off the remaining snow on his boots. Astrid peeked out just as he raised an arm to pull a thick woolen cap off his head.

  Desperate to get through the front door before the Professor had the chance to lock it behind him, Astrid jumped forward to grasp the big steel-plated door with both hands.

  Using all her strength, she slammed the heavy door into the Professor’s shocked face, sending him stumbling backward. He bellowed as he lost his footing on the slippery hardwood floor and landed hard on his back.

  As the Professor lifted a hand to his bloodied face in disbelief, Astrid grabbed the parka and scarf off the rack and darted past him. She’d almost made it out the door when a powerful jerk on the jacket wrenched her backward. She hit the ground with a painful thud as the Professor grabbed for her.

  She looked down to see his gloved hand close over her thin wrist. It was the hand that was missing two fingers. The one he always concealed inside a glove. Anger surged through her at the hated touch of that hand on her skin.

  I can’t let him put me back underground, or I’ll never get out again.

  Releasing her hold on the parka, she grasped the three fingers gripping her arm and gave a savage twist. The Professor’s hand fell away as Astrid scooted out of reach and onto the porch.

  The shock of frigid air on her bare skin stole her breath as she flew down the steps onto the icy driveway, her bare feet stinging as she ran past a white pick-up truck parked just inside the still-open gate.

  If I can just get through the gate and into the trees, I can hide.

  She wouldn’t think of what she’d do after that to stay alive in the frozen forest. First, she had to get away from the Professor. Only then could she figure out how to protect herself from the other dangerous predators that may be prowling nearby.

  Daring to take a look behind her as she slipped through the gate, Astrid gasped in terror. The Professor was emerging from the door of the house. The front of his shirt was covered in blood, and he held a big rifle in his hands.

  The Professor raised the sleek weapon, aiming it in Astrid’s direction just as she dropped to the ground and sank into a thick bank of snow. A bullet whizzed by, grazing a spindly pine tree behind her.

  Astrid ignored the growing pain in her feet and forced herself to stand and run toward a clump of fir trees to her left. The thick needles of the firs would provide cover from the Professor’s shotgun and offer shelter from the wind and snow that whirled around her.

  At least the snow will help hide my tracks.

  The fleeting hope vanished as Astrid looked back to see a deep trail in the snow behind her. Only a blizzard would be able to hide her tracks from the quickly moving predator behind her.

  Pushing through heavy clumps of prickly branches, Astrid plowed onward, moving quickly. After ten minutes of forging relentlessly through the snow, she stopped, leaned against the thick trunk of an old pine tree, and looked down at her red, aching feet.

  The pain was beginning to fade into a numb heaviness. Frostbite would soon set in. After that, Astrid knew it would only be a matter of time until she succumbed to the elements.

  She’d have to take shelter soon if she had any hope of survival. Luckily, Astrid had grown up in a country with long, harsh winters, and her father had taught her how to make an emergency shelter to ride out an unexpected snowstorm.

  But poor Papa never thought I’d be in a storm without shoes or
a coat.

  She dropped to her knees and began to arrange fallen branches around the base of the pine tree. The crack of a twig close by made her stop and listen. Heart thumping, Astrid maneuvered herself so that her back was against the tree trunk.

  Drawing her legs up to her chest, she huddled against the rough bark, her ears straining to hear any sound that might mean the professor had found her hiding place, but she heard only the soft whoosh of the wind through the trees.

  Maybe the Professor has given up. Maybe he’s back at the house now.

  The thought of the house and the room underneath it made Astrid think of Skylar. A guilty ache started in her stomach.

  I’ve left her all alone with the Professor. But what else could I do?

  She hadn’t had a chance to take Skylar with her, and she certainly couldn’t go back now. Astrid had seen what her captor did to girls who ran away. He would dispatch her without mercy or remorse.

  If I survive this, I’ll go find help. I'll send someone back for Skylar.

  Just then a loud, haunting howl rolled through the forest, causing the hair to stand up on the back of Astrid’s neck. The howl had sounded close by. Too close for comfort.

  That had to be a wolf. The Professor must have been telling the truth.

  Watching her breath puff around her in a frosty cloud, Astrid tried to stay calm. The snow had stopped falling, and what was left of the sun was sinking quickly in the western sky.

  The wolf is probably more scared of me, than I am of it. Right? That’s what Papa always told me. That wild animals just want to be left alone.

  But her kind, decent father had never known that an animal like the Professor existed. And he had grown up half a world away in Sweden. How could he know what the wild animals in America would do to a lone woman in the wilderness?

  Thoughts of her father were interrupted by the crunch of boots on snow. Astrid flinched as a cold voice sounded beside her.

  "I warned you not to run, girl. I told you what would happen."