Aubrey’s belly had knotted. Had she wanted to get out of her lease agreement on the cottage, she was pretty certain the courts would be on her side. Keeping something as significant as murder from a potential renter had to be grounds for backing out of a contract. By that time, she’d been in the cottage for almost a month. Nothing strange had happened to make her feel unsafe, and the rent was dirt cheap... For a reason. Aubrey had decided the risk was worth it. Since leaving her husband, moving to a new town and establishing a residence, she didn’t have a lot of money to burn. So the previous owner had been murdered and the killer hadn’t been caught, according to the news article. That didn’t mean all occupants of the cottage were destined to be killed.
Armed with the knowledge of Lynn Hennessey’s death, Aubrey didn’t take any chances. Every night before she went to sleep, she checked all the window and door locks. Not comfortable with guns, Aubrey kept on her nightstand a can of wasp spray capable of shooting bug-killing chemicals up to a distance of ten feet. Anyone who tried to attack her in her own home would get the spray full in the face. She didn’t want to kill anyone, just incapacitate potential murderers until she could get far enough away to avoid injury or death.
So far, the can remained untouched. Not even wasps had made their home in the eaves of the cottage. The house was beautiful, quiet and just what Aubrey had needed after her depressing divorce. She hadn’t even ventured out to make friends. Instead, she indulged in solitary evenings at home, drinking wine, catching up on her reading and considering adopting a cat.
That evening was no different. She slipped out of her scrubs and pulled on a pair of leggings and a loose T-shirt, curled up on the overstuffed easy chair and settled in with a book.
The day had been long and tiring. So tiring, she fell asleep on the third page, her wine barely touched.
What felt like moments later, a pounding sound jerked her out of her slumber.
Aubrey sat upright, the book falling from her lap to the floor. The pounding sounded again, but not from the front door. She jumped to her feet and ran for the can of wasp spray in the bedroom before edging around the corner into the kitchen. The back door that led from the kitchen out onto the back porch had a window. A shadowy face pressed against the glass as a fist banged against the wooden doorframe.
The face was female and tear streaked.
Holding tightly to her can of wasp spray, Aubrey hurried to the back door.
“Por favor!” the woman cried. “Es esta la casa de los ángeles?” Her words were so garbled Aubrey had difficulty translating with her rudimentary Spanish skills. She thought the woman was asking for a house of angels.
The tears and the desperation in the woman’s voice got to Aubrey. She set the can of spray on the counter, unlocked the door and yanked it open.
The woman fell into her arms, sobbing. “Ayudar a mis bebés.” Help my babies.
She smelled of sweat and fear. For a moment the woman clung to Aubrey.
“What’s wrong? How can I help?” Aubrey asked.
“Mis bebés,” she wept. Then she pushed out of Aubrey’s arms, grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the door. “Prisa. Ven conmigo.”
Aubrey resisted. “Where are they? Where are your babies?” she asked, digging her feet into the threshold.
“Por favor. Ayudar a mis bebés.”
When Aubrey wouldn’t go with her, the woman dropped her hand, ran out into the night, fell to her knees and pressed together her hands in prayer. “Por favor. Dios ayúdame.” Please. God help me.
Aubrey couldn’t disregard the woman’s pain. She might be putting her life in danger, but she couldn’t ignore the woman’s plea. She ran out after her.
When they came to the fence between the cottage’s backyard and the rancher’s field, the woman slipped between the barbed wire and took off running.
Aubrey stopped cold. This was the field where the Hennessey woman had been murdered. What if the stranger was leading her into a trap? The woman’s voice echoed into the night. “Ayudar a mis bebés.” Help my babies.
Aubrey slipped between the strands of barbed wire. Her shirt ripped on a sharp prong, but she made it through and ran after the disappearing woman, across the field and into a stand of scrubby trees. The land dipped downward into a dry creek bed.
Ahead of Aubrey, the desperate woman slid down the slope and scrambled up the other side.
Aubrey followed. The farther away from the cottage they went, the more her gut knotted. Regretting leaving her phone at the cottage, Aubrey was ready to return and call 911 when the woman stopped in front of a stand of bushes and brush. “Nena, dónde estas?” She tore at the branches, pulling aside a large, leafy branch.
A baby’s cry sounded in the night. The stranger dived into the brush and emerged with an infant in her arms. “Marianna, mi bebé.” For only a moment she hugged the infant to her chest, raining kisses on her soft dark hair. Then her head came up. “Isabella?” she whispered.
Aubrey caught up to her.
Holding the baby in her arms, the woman dived deeper into the brush. “Isabella?” she said a little louder.
A child’s cry sounded nearby, “Mamá!”
The stranger’s head whipped around. “Isabella!”
Several engines roared to life, filling the night with a resonating rumble.
Aubrey glanced left, then right, her eyes straining to see into the murky shadows.
The woman who’d led her out into the field shoved her. “Vamos! Correle más rápido!” She didn’t wait for Aubrey to move, taking off, away from the noise of the engines, clutching her baby to her chest.
For a woman laden with the weight of a small child, she moved fast through the trees.
Even had Aubrey not understood the words, she would have gleaned the intent in her tone. She wanted her to go. To run fast.
A child’s cry sounded again over the roar of the engines.
Aubrey turned away from the engines and took off in the direction she’d heard the child’s voice.
Ahead of her, the woman’s steps faltered. She had to be exhausted after running to get help and then back to find her baby.
Behind Aubrey, dark silhouettes of men on ATVs burst from the shadows and raced toward them.
Aubrey’s heart leaped into her throat. She hadn’t found the other child, but she was now in jeopardy. If she was going to help, she first had to get to safety.
The stars above shone down on the advancing four-wheelers.
Focusing on the ground in front of her, she ran with all the strength and endurance she could muster.
They’d cut her off from returning to the cottage, so she ran in the only direction she could. Somehow, somewhere, they had to find a place to hide.
Who were these people after this woman? Why were they chasing her? She searched for the words in Spanish but didn’t have the time or breath to articulate them.
Aubrey tripped over a branch and fell to her knees. She couldn’t get up and run fast enough to avoid the men on the ATVs. She could hide and hope they wouldn’t find her, or she could get up and make a stand, giving the other woman and her baby a chance to escape.
Still on her knees, her hand curled around a thick, long stick, bigger than a baseball bat and heavy enough to do some damage.
She waited until just before the ATVs overran her position. It was clear they were aiming at her with harm as their goal.
Aubrey leaped to her feet, and with both hands, she swung the stick as hard as she could at the man on the first ATV to reach her. The stick connected with the man’s head, knocking him off the back of the vehicle. He landed flat on his back.
The impact shook Aubrey’s arms and wrenched her back. She didn’t have time to worry about her own pain.
The second ATV slowed and swerved toward her. The rider’s arm came up, a handgun pointing in her directi
on.
Aubrey ducked behind a tree as a shot rang out.
When the rider roared up to her position, she slid around the other side of the tree and came at him from behind, clobbering him with the makeshift club, hitting him in the head. The man leaned on the right side of his handlebars, sending the ATV careening into a tree.
The third ATV bypassed all of them and continued on toward the woman and the infant.
Aubrey didn’t wait around for the two men she’d hit to gather their wits. She took off again, zigzagging through the trees, heading for the woman who’d broken through the tree line and run across an open field.
Another shot rang out behind her.
Aubrey let out a startled yelp and ran faster. Ahead of her, the man on the ATV raised his arm and fired his handgun.
The woman fell to the ground.
Her steps faltering, Aubrey’s heart plummeted to the pit of her belly.
Oh, sweet heaven. Had the woman been hit? What about the baby?
Anger surged through Aubrey, fueling her faltering steps. She ran like a sprinter, winging her way toward the man on the ATV who was bearing down on the woman he’d fired on. As he slowed, Aubrey caught up to him and slammed him with the club-like stick, hitting him in the back of the head.
He slumped over the handlebars of his ATV and shook his head, then he hit the throttle, sending the four-wheeler shooting across the grass, away from his attacker.
A baby’s cry drew Aubrey’s attention from the rider. When the woman had fallen, the baby had slipped from her arms and landed in a stand of tall grass a yard away.
“Get up.” Aubrey tried to help the woman to her feet. The injured woman didn’t have the strength to rise, nor was Aubrey able to carry her.
“Mi bebé. Mi Marianna,” the woman cried out, her hand reaching for the child. “Vamos! Salva a mi bebé!” Go! Save my baby!
With three men on ATVs chasing her, the woman didn’t have a chance. But Aubrey was near a line of trees. If she could reach the trees before the men on the ATVs, she and the baby might have a chance. She would run for help and come back to see if the woman was still alive and look for the other child, as well. Unarmed, she couldn’t do much else. The woman wanted to save her baby. That was the least Aubrey could do.
Aubrey scooped the baby into her arms. Her heart pounding, her breathing coming in ragged gasps, she aimed for the trees, pushing herself harder when she thought she could run no more. She didn’t look back. Based on the fading engine noises behind her, she was putting distance between herself and the attackers. She prayed she’d make the cover of the trees before the men on the four-wheelers caught up.
Forty yards from her goal, Aubrey heard engines revving. The sound grew nearer. A shot rang out.
Aubrey ducked, fully expecting to feel the sharp sting of a bullet entering her back. When it didn’t, she gave everything she had left and ran faster. Her lungs burned, her muscles screamed, but she didn’t stop, didn’t slow until she entered the shadows of the trees.
Even then, she ran and leaped over small bushes and rotting logs. She’d come too far to give up now. The baby in her arms deserved to live. Aubrey had to stay alive to ensure the child’s survival.
Zigzagging through the trees, she debated dropping down behind a pile of brush, but the ATVs following her were getting too close. They’d see her pathetic attempt to hide and be on her immediately. She had to keep moving until she reached a point they wouldn’t see her when she dropped out of their line of sight.
Then she came to a barbed wire fence and stopped short of plowing into it with her arms wrapped around the baby. Her heart stopped for several beats. This could be the end of her race, or the break she was looking for.
She shoved the baby between two strands of wire and gently rolled her to the ground. Then Aubrey climbed between the wires, scooped up the baby and took off, hoping the trees on the other side would provide sufficient protection against flying bullets.
Shots rang out again, echoing off the tree trunks.
Hunkering as low as she could, Aubrey kept moving.
The roar of engines behind her faded.
For a moment, Aubrey thought the fence had stopped her attackers.
Then the engines revved again, the sound growing louder by the second. They’d managed to get past the barbed wire and were gaining on her and baby Marianna.
Almost out of energy, Aubrey broke through the other side of the stand of trees and ran out onto a paved road.
A single headlight blinded her.
She held up her free hand, shading her eyes from the glare.
Too exhausted to move another step she dropped to her knees, cupping the baby in her arms, shielding it with her back to the ATV riders and their guns. Her only hope was the driver of the vehicle barreling toward her. The men on the ATVs drove without lights, relying on the starlight to guide them.
Whoever was driving the motorcycle coming toward her had his light on and was on a highway. He could be with the others, but Aubrey took the chance that he wasn’t.
She waved her free arm. “Help!” she cried. “Please.”
Copyright © 2021 by Mary Jernigan
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ISBN-13: 9781488072581
Pursuit of the Truth
Copyright © 2021 by Kia Dennis
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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Pursuit of the Truth Page 20
