In The Arms of a Stranger

by Kristen Robinette

  “You might’ve run me off last time but not this time.” The woman hesitated. “This time I’ll have a little backup plan with me.”

  “You have nothing,” Camille drawled.

  “Let’s put it this way, you can either be part of my plan or I could become part of the family. Your family.”

  Camille snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Oh, I’m serious. Luke and I were very close last time I saw him. Very close. And believe me, I can prove it.”

  The sound of his name brought chills and mind-numbing confusion.

  “Luke? You expect me to believe you’re pregnant with Luke’s child?” Camille laughed but the sound was mired in fear. “You little twit. Even if you were pregnant, he wouldn’t marry you. The man is cold as ice.”

  “He was anything but cold. I saw to that.” The woman laughed. “So are you willing to take that chance? I can think of lots of interesting things to talk about over Sunday dinner.”

  There was a long pause before Camille spoke again. When she did, her voice had altered, turned back to the syrupy sweet socialite. “I’ll make a deal with you. A onetime payment and you’re out of my life forever. After that, I don’t want to ever see you again.”

  His mind reeled as he listened to the two women make plans to meet in Sweetwater, arranging to exchange money for silence. The woman seemed breathlessly victorious, and Camille sounded as calculating as a snake.

  “Meet me at the old ranger’s station,” Camille said. “You know the one. I’ll be waiting for you.”

  And indeed she had.

  Luke felt sick at the thought, remembering the locked doors and dark interior. Camille hadn’t planned on meeting her there or anywhere else. She’d planned on killing her, sniper-style, by running her off the edge of the cliff. And she’d succeeded.

  There was a final click as the connection was severed and the recording ended.

  His mind turned to the landscape of the area, to the ranger’s station. The new observation tower, he realized. The metal structure was isolated, so inaccessible that he hadn’t considered that the sniper had used it. But a local would know how to access it. A local like Camille.

  Yes, she’d been a pampered socialite. But she’d also been a child of the mountains when poverty still ruled, before the factories brought economic stability. Like a lot of children in the Appalachians, she’d probably learned to hunt and fish out of necessity. Luke felt sick as an image formed in his mind. The tower reached well above the tree line, giving her a perfect view of the road below. And a perfect shot.

  Luke took an unsteady breath and allowed the next pieces of the puzzle to fall into place: the tape, the diaper bag, the car accident. The murder.

  Michelle Alexander.

  He recalled the accident scene with nauseating clarity, the deep gash marring her youthful features, the macabre, frozen position of her body. It all could have been avoided. Why couldn’t she have heard the venom dripping from his stepmother’s words, surmise what she intended to do?

  But who was she? It didn’t make sense. How could she have possibly witnessed the arson as a child? He didn’t know her and certainly had never slept with her. And the woman certainly wasn’t pregnant with his child.

  Luke clutched the tape recorder and shut his eyes. The elusive memory returned, dipped within reach again. This time he grabbed it with both hands, and the revelation knocked the breath from his lungs.

  He did recognize the voice on the tape.

  It belonged to Shelly Henson. “You killed my mother and your cheating husband. And you killed fifteen other innocent people, including my father.”

  The past pulled him in like a vacuum.

  It was the night of the fire. His father had been holed up in the house, agitated and pacing, waiting for updates on the rescue efforts. And then the local fire chief had delivered the news that seventeen people had perished in the fire, including his father’s business partner, Lawrence Williams. Luke closed his eyes, remembering. What stood out most about that night was that his father had seemed more angry than sad until one of the firemen had explained that a child had been left orphaned. It was then that the unshakable Lucas Daniel Sutherlin, Sr., had cried. The orphaned child’s name had been Shelly—Shelly-Anne Alexander.

  Michelle Alexander. Shelly Henson.

  The memory had no doubt been buried in the rubble of all that happened next. Camille Williams had burst into the house, wild with grief for her husband, and accused Lucas of chaining the exits. It was then that Luke’s tenuous teenage emotions had snapped and Luke had taken a swing at his father. But his father, older, wiser and stronger, had seen it coming. Luke had ended up with a broken arm and a broken relationship with his father.

  Luke had been so certain of his father’s guilt all these years. And he’d been wrong.

  His mind fast-forwarded to the more recent past, recalling the night he’d taken Shelly in. The housekeeper had called, saying only that Luke was needed at his father’s home. His father hadn’t been there when Luke arrived. But Camille had. She’d stood over a bruised and crying Shelly, her face as cold as stone. Luke had been so certain of who had beaten Shelly and what Shelly was to his father that he hadn’t questioned what happened that night.

  He’d simply taken her back to his house…

  I’ll be returning what belongs to you. Shelly’s message left at the station…

  Luke took a jagged breath and recalled the voice on the tape. This time I’ll have a little backup plan.

  Luke dropped the recorder, his hands and his body numb. Daniel was his son. Shelly’s little backup plan was Daniel. The math made as much sense as her devious motives. He’d been with Shelly just over a year ago, and Daniel was four months old. Shock, joy and fear assaulted him at once as Luke struggled to his feet.

  He had a son.

  But had Daniel been nothing more to Shelly than a tool for more blackmail? The answer was yes, and the realization made him weak with regret. She’d seen the opportunity and had taken it. But as horrible as that was, Luke couldn’t find it in his heart to hate her.

  He recalled Michelle, Shelly-Anne, as a child. She’d been a wide-eyed little girl with blond curls who had been sent away from Sweetwater after her parents’ death. And now the woman who had stolen her innocence had murdered her. The town, the victims, Luke and his father, had all paid the price for Camille’s madness. They were paying for it still.

  But out of the ashes came a gift. That gift was Daniel. Luke already loved him, and now he could claim him.

  But Camille… Disgust rose like bile in his throat. She’d pierced Shelly’s tire with a bullet, killed her in cold blood. And she’d fired at Dana with every intention of killing her, too. But why?

  Luke summoned a mental image of Shelly. Though her features were different, her height and weight were strikingly similar to Dana’s, as was her shoulder-length blond hair. Daniel had been tucked inside Dana’s heavy coat, concealing his presence. And if Camille had used the old observation tower, the mountains might have blocked her view when Dana lowered herself down the cliff. But at that angle she would have seen her come back up the footpath.

  Camille had seen Dana scrambling up the ledge and thought Shelly had survived the crash…

  I relayed your orders to keep quiet about the fatality. Folks sure have been panicked. Ben Allen’s words echoed in his head.

  Luke’s heart clenched in terror. He bolted to the kitchen, snatched the phone from its cradle and punched his father’s home number. One ring. He waited. Two…

  A woman from Atlanta. She’s fine. She’s on her way back home.

  Oh, God, he’d led Camille straight to Dana. He’d even pointed out the right direction.

  “Hello.” His father’s voice sounded older than he remembered, or did it just sound less sinister now that Luke knew the truth?

  “Where’s Camille?” he yelled into the receiver.

  “Luke, is that you?”

  “Yes—I don’t ha
ve time to explain but I need to know if Camille is at home.”

  “No, she left immediately after talking to you. She seemed upset.”

  “Oh, my God…”

  “Luke, what’s going on? Luke!”

  His father was shouting into the receiver, but Luke barely heard him. Camille. He slammed the phone back down. There was no doubt in his mind that she was going after Dana. And Daniel, too, he realized.

  And he had led his stepmother straight to them.

  Luke ran from the house and slid behind the wheel of his police cruiser, grabbing the radio from the dash. He called in an emergency that might or might not exist. But in his heart he knew.

  Dana and Daniel’s lives were in danger.

  Luke peeled from the driveway, slinging half-frozen mud into the air and offering prayers to a God he hadn’t spoken to in far too long. In the breadth of a few days he’d found his soul mate and gained a son.

  The Sutherlin legacy might be cast in betrayal and tragedy, but by God that was about to change. Beginning with Luke.

  And starting now.

  Chapter 17

  Dana sat next to Daniel in the back seat of Vivian’s SUV. The luxury of the vehicle should have been a welcome relief, but wasn’t. She was surrounded by creature comforts that she’d certainly missed—the warm heat chasing away the chill, the supple leather of the interior cradling her body. But the fact remained that she was heading away from what she really wanted, and her heart ached for the man she’d just left behind.

  Or the man she thought she’d known.

  Tears threatened, but Dana replaced them with anger. Never again would she allow a man to stand in the way of doing what she knew in her heart was right. She’d made that mistake once with Robert. But Luke was in a different league than her ex-husband. Or so she’d thought.

  Luke believed she was a murderess. The thought might have been laughable had the betrayal not run so deep. But she wouldn’t think of that now. Now she was going home to Atlanta. With Daniel. That was all that mattered.

  Vivian had pulled a car seat from the hatchback of her vehicle like a magician. A DFCS magician. The restraint was new, unlike the one Ben Allen had borrowed, and cradled Daniel comfortably. Viv had also brought the baby a fresh change of clothing, a white one-piece sleeper with blue piping. Dana bit her lip to keep from crying. She and Daniel were safe, clean and well fed. Their every need had been met, and now they were headed home.

  So why did she ache to return to the cabin?

  The car seat was a rear-facing model, allowing Dana to watch as Daniel’s sleepy eyes drifted shut. She caressed his cotton-covered toes and counted her blessings, starting with him. Any hope she’d once had of making her guardianship permanent had vanished with Luke’s accusations, but Dana was learning to take life one day at a time—one blessing at a time. And Daniel was a blessing, even if her time with him was short.

  When Dana looked up, she caught Vivian’s gaze in the rearview mirror. She smiled, grateful for all that her friend had done. If not for Vivian, Luke could have easily detained her or, at the very least, kept Daniel from her.

  “Thank you, Viv.” The words felt woefully inadequate.

  “What happened up here, Dana?”

  She shook her head, absently watching the passing scenery. They were just outside of Sweetwater now, descending yet another mountain. Dana caught sight of a damaged guardrail that ran alongside the mountain face and shivered. “I honestly wish I knew.”

  Vivian frowned. “You don’t have to talk about it now, but you’ll have to give me something more to work with soon. You know that, don’t you?”

  Dana nodded.

  The crack of a gunshot split the silence.

  “Viv!” Dana yelled. She threw herself over Daniel’s car seat. “That was a gunshot!”

  “No, Dana.” Vivian’s voice was calm, if a little startled. “I’m sure it wasn’t a gunshot—”

  A second shot rang out, echoed by a deep boom. Their vehicle began to vibrate and suddenly they were sliding, tires screeching as the SUV careened out of control. The slide turned to a sickening spin and Dana gripped Daniel’s car seat, her vision a blur of color. Dark asphalt swirled, mixing brown trees, patches of green pine…

  She screamed.

  The vehicle stopped spinning as quickly as it had begun, the momentum tipping its heavy body on two wheels before it slammed back down.

  Seconds later Vivian peered, breathless, over the seat. “Are you okay? The baby?”

  “I think so.” Dana ran her hands over Daniel’s face and body, her hands trembling. He began to cry. “I think we’re both okay. Are you?”

  Another gunshot answered the question. Vivian ducked down along the front seat and Dana threw herself over Daniel again, her mind reeling. This wasn’t possible. Gonzalez was in custody. It was like a bad dream, like reliving the day of the accident.

  Exactly like the day of the accident, she realized.

  Dana forced herself to think. That day the shots had come from above. Sniper-style.

  “Vivian, we’ve got to find cover!” she yelled.

  Dana glanced frantically out the side window, keeping her body low. The vehicle had come to rest in a deep pocket of gravel that lined the road, just missing an unguarded edge that could have easily brought them the same fate as Daniel’s mother. She saw nothing but endless mountains, an abandoned gas station and a water tower.

  Her gaze snapped back to the water tower. It was the only elevated structure. The sniper had to be on the water tower. Please, God, let the hunch be right.

  “I think the shots are coming from above us, from that water tower.” Her chest constricted and Dana intentionally slowed her breathing, recalling what Luke had taught her. “Can you get us to that old gas station on the righthand side of the road? Maybe we can take shelter behind the building.”

  There was no way that Vivian could maneuver the vehicle back onto the road and to the gas station without sitting upright and visually steering, which was out of the question. The only other alternative was to gun the car and steer blindly through the rough terrain that lay between them and shelter. And the terrain, a craggy area dotted with pine scrubs and jagged exposed rock, was a threat to them, as well. She was asking a lot of Vivian, but as it stood they were sitting ducks.

  They had to act and they had to act now.

  “Don’t sit up.” Dana’s voice was shrill, on the verge of full panic. “Just press the gas and hold the wheel straight. The nose of the vehicle is already pointed toward the gas station. Can you do it?”

  “I can do it,” Vivian answered, her voice as strong as steel. Seconds later the vehicle lurched forward, jerking Dana about like a rag doll.

  It was like a life-and-death roller-coaster ride as the massive SUV crashed through the pine scrub and blindly bounced over the exposed rock. She thought—she hoped—that they’d almost reached their destination when the vehicle lurched forward one last time and slammed nose down with a sickening crunch.

  Everything seemed to happen at once. Dana’s seat belt tightened painfully against her hips. As if in slow motion, she saw Daniel’s car seat slide a fraction of an inch, then return to its secure position. The front airbags deployed on impact, their force slamming Vivian backward against the driver’s seat.

  Then all was still. Daniel began to cry, and the healthy wail was music to her ears. Dana tried to speak but began to gag on the powder-tinged gas from the airbags.

  She swallowed hard. “Vivian!” Dana unbuckled her seat belt and leaned forward, squeezing her friend’s shoulder. There was no response. She pressed her fingers against Vivian’s neck, finding her pulse steady and strong. The accident didn’t appear to be that bad but the force of the airbag against Vivian’s small frame had knocked her unconscious.

  Dana looked at the side windows, which were almost completely blocked by pine saplings, their needle-laden branches deflecting most of the light. The front windshield was an eerie pattern of mud and broken twi
gs compressed against the glass. There must have been a shallow ditch bordering the gas station because they’d landed nose down in some sort of ravine. Though the vehicle gave the impression of being a safe cocoon, it was anything but. They were immobile now, truly a helpless target.

  Daniel began to cough, his voice already hoarse from the gas.

  “We’ve got to get out of here,” she yelled. “Vivian, can you hear me?”

  There was no response.

  Dana unlocked the door nearest her, her fingers trembling. But when she lifted the door handle and shoved with her shoulder, nothing happened. The pine saplings lined the outside of the door like bars on a cage. She glanced frantically at the vehicle’s other doors and her heart sank. They, too, were blocked. She shoved on the door a second time with all her might. It didn’t budge. Tears of frustration streamed down her face as Daniel’s cries were interrupted by more heart-wrenching fits of coughing.

  With the doors blocked, there was only one way out—the hatchback. She fought a wave of sheer terror. Crawling out the back, with the vehicle’s rear end upturned and exposed, would leave them vulnerable to the sniper. But there was no choice. It was only a matter of time before the shooter zeroed in on them at closer range.

  Dana leaned over the back seat, looking frantically for a release handle. There wasn’t one. The acrid gas burned as she breathed, causing her lungs to spasm. She crawled, coughing, toward the front seat. There had to be an emergency release somewhere near the driver’s front panel…

  Dana leaned into the front seat, realizing that the airbags had begun to deflate. It was a mixed blessing. She could get to Vivian and to the control panel of the vehicle, but the nitrogen gas that had filled the airbags was now rapidly filling the inside of the SUV.

  They needed fresh air. Now.

  “Vivian?” Her voice was hoarse from the gas.

  Again, there was no response. Dana took her friend by the shoulders and gently laid her against the center console. She then switched the engine off and locked the key in the accessory position.