Tracked through the wood.., p.1
Tracked Through the Woods, page 1
“I think I should go toward the house. I need you to trust me on this, Wyatt,” Abby whispered.
Fear lodged in his throat. He snagged her arm. “Please stick with me.”
“I won’t be long.” She shook off his hand and darted forward.
He pulled his weapon and prepared to follow. Running silently, he held his breath until he reached the house, too.
Peering around the corner, he expected to see Abby, but there was no one there. He inched forward when he saw movement in the trees. He instinctively dropped to the ground, just as a crack of gunfire rang out.
He sprang up and threw his leg over the sill of an open window. Ducking beneath the glass, he fell into the room as a second crack of gunfire rang out.
“Wyatt?” Abby called softly.
“Stay down.” Another gunshot came from what sounded like the front of the house.
If they didn’t find a way to escape, they’d be trapped!
Laura Scott has always loved romance and read faith-based books by Grace Livingston Hill in her teenage years. She’s thrilled to have been given the opportunity to retire from thirty-eight years of nursing to become a full-time author. Laura has published over thirty books for Love Inspired Suspense. She has two adult children and lives in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, with her husband of thirty-five years. Please visit Laura at laurascottbooks.com, as she loves to hear from her readers.
Books by Laura Scott
Love Inspired Suspense
Hiding in Plain Sight
Amish Holiday Vendetta
Deadly Amish Abduction
Tracked Through the Woods
Justice Seekers
Soldier’s Christmas Secrets
Guarded by the Soldier
Wyoming Mountain Escape
Hiding His Holiday Witness
Rocky Mountain Standoff
Fugitive Hunt
Pacific Northwest K-9 Unit
Shielding the Baby
Visit the Author Profile page at LoveInspired.com for more titles.
Tracked Through the Woods
Laura Scott
We will rejoice in thy salvation, and in the name of our God we will set up our banners: the Lord fulfil all thy petitions.
—Psalm 20:5
This book is dedicated to Marcia Johnson in Fort Wayne, Indiana. Thanks for being such a special friend to Vicki and Sally! Any friend of theirs is a friend of mine.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Epilogue
Dear Reader
Excerpt from Hunted at Christmas by Dana R. Lynn
ONE
Abby Miller stealthily approached the log cabin in the north Wisconsin woods. She’d been searching for her father, Peter Miller, since her last phone conversation with him had abruptly cut off, as if someone had grabbed the phone from his hand. Then, when she’d tried to call him back there had been no answer.
As the days stretched into weeks, an overwhelming sense of dread had washed over her. It wasn’t like her dad to completely sever all ties with her. Not for this length of time.
Every instinct in her body screamed that something had gone terribly wrong.
After several failed attempts to find him, Abby had decided to backtrack to every place they’d ever used as a temporary safe house during those years they’d hidden from the Chicago mafia.
Which had brought her here, to this remote cabin nestled in the woods. The scent of wood burning, combined with the thin trail of smoke from the chimney, indicated the cabin was not empty.
Someone was inside.
Her father? Or someone else?
For years, she and her father had been on the run from the Marchese organized crime family. Her dad was a Marchese himself, but escaped from the mob life at eighteen. He’d hidden out in an Amish community, becoming so enmeshed in the plain life that he’d married and had twin daughters, Abby and her sister Rachel.
He would have stayed there, too, if the Marchese family hadn’t found him. But they had. Forcing him to leave with Abby, raising her alone.
This past year he’d gone to the FBI to provide key information to take the Marchese family down once and for all. His first meeting with Agent Wyatt Kane had gone well. The second, not so much. When gunfire rang out with Kane nowhere nearby, her father knew he’d been betrayed by Agent Wyatt Kane.
She and her father had split up for safety reasons, but had kept in touch. Until now.
Deep down, she couldn’t ignore the possibility her father had been killed. The thought of a dirty FBI agent attempting to kill her dad made her angry.
Yet she tried to remain positive. Her father was smart, and an expert at staying off grid. She needed to have faith in his ability to escape.
Darkness had fallen well over an hour ago, the low full harvest moon glowing bright in the velvet sky. She stepped cautiously across the soft pine needles and fallen leaves blanketing the earth. Using the trees for cover until reaching the clearing, she crouched and debated which window to approach first.
Envisioning the interior where they’d stayed several months when she was young helped her to identify that the window located directly ahead belonged to one of the two bedrooms. She had no idea which one the occupant was using, but it was a good starting point. Just as she rose to creep forward, a twig snapped behind her.
Dropping to the ground, she made herself as small as possible behind the tree. The tiny hairs on the back of her neck lifted in alarm. It wasn’t as if the woods were quiet—foxes, coyotes and white-tailed deer roamed freely here. There were no doubt black bears and bobcats, too.
Yet she sensed a human had made the noise, not an animal.
The seconds dragged by as she remained curled in a ball behind the tree, every one of her senses on alert. She’d left her vehicle a solid two miles away and hadn’t noticed anyone following her from the Twin Cities.
Maybe the cabin resident was out and about, checking the perimeter. It’s what she’d have done if she were staying there. And it was something her father would have done, too. It gave her hope that maybe he was safe after all.
Still, she didn’t move, waiting and watching for the person inside to show himself.
A full fifteen minutes passed. Belching tree frogs and the occasional hoot of an owl echoed around her, but no sign of a person.
Abby let another long stretch of time pass before slowly rising from the ground. Maybe the twig had been broken by a wild animal. One thing for sure, an innocent person returning home would have continued moving toward the cabin, rather than hiding out.
The thought was not reassuring.
Swallowing the urge to call out to her dad, she drew in a deep breath, rose and quickly crossed the clearing, pressing herself up alongside the cabin. Again, she waited, to see if anyone else followed her.
Nothing moved. So far, so good.
Sliding along the cabin wall, she turned slightly to peer through the window. It wasn’t easy to see in the darkness, but after a long moment, she confirmed the room was empty.
Flattening herself back against the wall, she quickly passed the window to check the next one. That room was empty, too.
Her pulse kicked up with anticipation. Maybe her dad was here! He could have gone out to check the perimeter just as she’d approached.
Although if that was the case, why hadn’t he answered any of her phone calls?
After another long five minutes, she eased around the corner of the cabin to approach the back door. Getting inside would be the best way to prove her father was staying there.
Testing the doorknob, she frowned. It wasn’t locked. That gave her pause, but then she pushed the door open and peeked inside.
The scent of burning wood was stronger now, a faint glow coming from the cast iron stove in the corner. She slipped inside and closed the door, taking a moment to search for personal items.
The interior was clear. Not a single item of clothing, a book, or slip of paper indicated anyone was living there. If not for the stove being full of wood and lit for warmth, she’d have assumed the place to be vacant.
Crossing the main room housing the small kitchen and living space, she checked both bedrooms. The covers on the bed in the first room were dusty and had obviously not been recently disturbed.
The second room, though, was different. While the bed was made, the bedding looked and smelled clean rather than musty. Yet there were no items of clothing in this space, either.
What in the world?
With a deep frown, she left the bedroom to return to the main living quarters.
“Hello, Abby.”
She stopped dead, her gaze fixated on the tall stranger standing in the center of the room. Her blood ran cold as she realized her situation had gone from bad to worse.
“You must be FBI Agent Wyat t Kane.” She forced the words through her tight throat. It wasn’t a stretch, based on the gun clipped to his belt and the way his dark hair was neatly trimmed. All that was missing was the obligatory blue suit. He was dressed in jeans, a flannel shirt and dark jacket but she still figured he was a fed.
His eyes widened in surprise, but he nodded. “You’re good, Abby, I’ll grant you that. I am Special Agent Kane.”
She tried not to stare at his gun, desperately wishing for a weapon of her own. Why wasn’t he using it to threaten her? She had no doubt he intended to silence her and her father, once and for all.
Well, if that was the case, she wasn’t going down without a fight. She lifted her chin and met his gaze defiantly. “What are you waiting for?”
He frowned. “What are you talking about? I’m here to find your father, same as you.”
She was glad her dad wasn’t in the cabin, if he’d even been there at all. “You’ll never find him. How could you set him up to be killed? Are you working for the Marchese crime family? Did you do all of this for money?”
“I didn’t set your father up, Abby. I didn’t try to shoot him. I know that’s what he thinks, but it wasn’t me.” Wyatt Kane lifted his hands palm out. “I have reason to believe the leak within the agency is my boss, Ethan Hawthorne. And I was hoping your father could help me prove it.”
His comment knocked her off balance, although she tried hard not to show it. Was this some sort of trick? She didn’t trust Wyatt as far as she could throw him.
Yet his identifying his boss as the real culprit was an interesting twist.
Either way, she wasn’t about to lower her guard. Quite the opposite. She shifted her feet so that she could spring into action if needed. “Yeah, well, as you can see, my father isn’t here.”
“But you thought he might be.”
She was irritated this dirty FBI agent had managed to find the cabin. She had to give him credit—she honestly had not anticipated this.
“Now what?” She changed the trajectory of the conversation. “Are you going to arrest me? Or just shoot me?”
“As far as I know, you haven’t broken the law, so there’s no reason to arrest you. And of course I’m not going to shoot you. I’m not the bad guy here, Abby. Ethan Hawthorne is.”
“If you say so.” Was this some story he was spinning so he could get close to her father? Eliminating her wouldn’t help keep his secret safe, unless he silenced her father, too.
No way was she falling for his act.
With Wyatt Kane standing in front of the back doorway, escaping that way wasn’t an option. And the front door was also a poor choice as he was closer to it than she was. Maybe through one of the bedroom windows, as they were located behind her, but it was doubtful she’d have the time to wrench one open and climb out before he caught her.
Unless she could come up with a diversion.
He took a step toward her. She instinctively moved back, but also a few inches to the right side to get closer to the wood-burning stove. There were several split logs stacked on a pile there, about the only item remotely close enough to be used as a weapon.
“Who else knew about your meeting with my father that day?” She moved another inch as she tried to distract him with questions. “You claimed my dad would be safe speaking with you. Yet as he approached your meeting spot, shots rang out, narrowly missing him.”
“I know. That was unfortunate.”
“Unfortunate?” She scoffed, taking another step backward. “That’s an understatement.”
“Abby, please. I’m telling you the truth.” His gaze implored her to believe him. “I want to bring Ethan Hawthorne down as much as your father does. As much as you do. But I need help. I need proof.”
“Shouldn’t the FBI be able to help with that?” She eased another inch to the right. “Don’t they have some sort of internal affairs department like the police do? My father can’t help you, and neither can I.”
“I can’t go to anyone within the Bureau, as I have no idea who else might be involved.” He took another step, and that was all the impetus she needed.
She lunged to the right, grabbed a log and tossed it toward him. Her goal wasn’t to hurt him, but to distract him. Without hesitation she made a run for the closest bedroom. She yanked hard on the window, and it lifted with a groan of protest. Throwing her leg over the sill, she ducked, then brought the other leg through the opening.
“Abby! Wait!”
Ignoring Agent Kane’s shout, she bolted for the woods, as if a hungry pack of wolves nipped at her heels.
* * *
Wyatt lunged for the window, but he was too late. With amazing athleticism, Abby Miller had gotten through. He refused to give up, though, crawling through the window with far less nimbleness to follow her.
He needed Abby and her father. He couldn’t fight Hawthorne alone. All he had was suspicion, especially after the way Hawthorne had turned on him, dragging Wyatt’s name through the mud. As if his boss was deflecting his own criminal activity to Wyatt. There was nothing worse than a dirty cop and he would not rest until he had the evidence he needed to bring Hawthorne down.
Unfortunately, Abby was a worthy foe. As was her father. Not that he wanted to be at odds with either of them. If he could just get her to listen to reason. They were all on the same side. Hawthorne must be stopped, before anyone else was hurt.
Abby disappeared into the woods. He followed, listening intently to the sounds of her footsteps.
But then they halted. Or she was stepping so quietly he could no longer hear her.
This was not how this was supposed to go, he thought grimly. She didn’t understand that Hawthorne had nothing to lose and everything to gain by eliminating her and her father.
Maybe Wyatt, too, if his boss believed he was on to him.
Slowing his pace, he scanned the woods, searching for a clue as to where Abby had gone. He felt certain she’d eventually make a break for her vehicle, so he turned and cut through the woods in a direct path toward her car, determined to meet up with her there.
He should have anticipated she’d attempt to escape. Throwing the log in his direction had forced him to rear back and deflect it, giving her just the head start she’d needed.
As angry as he was with having to chase Abby down, he couldn’t help but admire her. Somehow, he needed to make her understand he wasn’t the bad guy. He’d thought that not using his weapon would reassure her.
Apparently not.
He put on a burst of speed, doing his best to move quickly and silently. He needed to reach her vehicle as soon as possible. If Abby escaped the area, he’d find her car as he had the license plate number, but if she ditched the sedan for something else, he’d end up back at square one.
A tiny voice in the back of his mind warned him she may just give up the car now, rather than using the rusty sedan as an escape route. But they were easily ten miles or more from civilization and the unincorporated town of Pilgrim was barely a dot on a map.
At the same time, he doubted staying in the woods all night would bother her. Abby was a tough cookie. Based on the merry chase she’d led him over several state lines, he wouldn’t put anything past her.
Stumbling over a fallen log, he twisted his ankle, yet managed to stay upright. Ahead, moonlight filtered through the trees. He pushed forward, ignoring the pain in his left leg. There was a twenty-foot clearing between the woods and the side of the road. He was almost there.
At the edge of the woods, he paused, then smiled in satisfaction when he noticed Abby’s rusty sedan was still there.
Slowing his pace and favoring his left ankle, he kept moving while scanning the area. There was no sign of Abby, at least not yet. His SUV was parked a half mile down the road and around a curve, well out of sight.
He made his way to the sedan, then hunkered down behind it, using the rear tire and the sedan itself to hide from view. While he’d moved as silently as possible, she might assume he’d end up here at her vehicle. Regardless, he’d rather wait out of sight, hoping he could convince her to listen to reason.
For the second time that night, the minutes passed with painstaking slowness. His earlier patience had at last been rewarded when Abby had finally darted toward the cabin. But as the seconds ticked by, he wondered if that had been a one-time thing.
