Love Inspired Suspense January 2014

by Shirlee McCoy

  “Thank you, Mr. Greene.” She handed him a cup, her gaze frank and open. “You’ve been very gracious to a couple of strangers bounding in on you.”

  David barely stopped his jaw from sagging as he accepted the offering—both the tea and the slight thaw in attitude.

  “Call me David, please. When you say Mr. Greene I feel like you’re talking to my father, and if you shorten it to Dave I’ll think I’ve gone back to grade school.”

  “David, then. But you—” Laurel wagged a finger at her daughter “—should refer to him as Mr. Greene. It’s basic respect, like the way you address your teachers at school.”

  “Gotcha, Mom.” Caroline accepted her cup and brought it to her nose. “Mmmm. This stuff smells great! Thanks, Mr. Greene.” Her enthusiasm was followed by a distinct slurp.

  A chuckle escaped David’s throat, and Laurel lifted her cup to hide what looked like a suspicious twitch of the lips. Small talk occupied the next minutes, but at last David set his cup down and stood.

  “I can fire up that CB radio now. It might take me a few minutes to tune it in to the right frequency. I’ve almost never used the gadget.”

  Laurel rose. “Yes, please, that would be great. Let me know when I can speak to someone. In the meantime, I’d like to step outside and bring in our luggage. It would be so good to freshen up a little.”

  “I wouldn’t feel right leaving you to go out in the storm.” He moved toward the coat closet and grabbed his outdoor gear. “I’ll get the bags if you give me your keys. We can do the radio after your things are inside.”

  “You’ve done enough for us, Mr. Greene. I’ll handle it.”

  Stubborn woman. His mom had been, too, but in her the trait hadn’t irritated him. “We’ll do it together, then.” If he could take back the bite in his tone he would.

  Posture stiff, Laurel took her coat from him. He resisted the impulse to hold the garment while she shrugged into it. Under current circumstances, the common courtesy ingrained into him by his upbringing might feel like an invasion of her space. He put on his jacket, hat, boots and insulated mittens, but refrained from commenting about the wet loafers on his guest’s feet.

  “I’ll set up a game of Scrabble while you get the bags,” Caroline said.

  Tugging on thin gloves, Laurel nodded at her daughter and led the way to the door. David pulled it open for her. At least he could do that much.

  Snow particles stung his cheeks, and icy air washed David’s face as he forged onto the porch after Laurel. He followed close on her heels as she eased down the steps. As she reached the ground, a drift swallowed her legs to the knees. He shook his head. She should have unbent enough to let him do this for her.

  Frowning, he slogged after her toward the dark bulk of the car. The wind had already driven snowdrifts up to the bumpers. At last they reached the car’s trunk. Laurel fished a set of keys out of her coat pocket and pressed a button. The trunk lid sprang open, blocking the wind. David gratefully inhaled a long breath free of ice particles.

  Laurel’s scream froze the oxygen in his chest. The car keys dropped from his guest’s lax fingers. David caught the keychain, then followed the line of her gaze into the trunk. There were suitcases, all right. But something was sprawled atop them. Or rather someone. The fact that this person was no longer among the living was clear in the frozen stare and facial expression locked into an unnatural contortion.

  Bitter bile stung the back of David’s throat. He’d seen the body of a murder victim before—exactly three years ago to this day. At least no one could claim he’d killed this woman.

  The same couldn’t be said of his guests.

  Copyright © 2014 by Jill Elizabeth Nelson

  ISBN-13: 9781460324714

  SAFE BY THE MARSHAL’S SIDE

  Copyright © 2014 by Harlequin Books S.A.

  All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

  ® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.

  www.Harlequin.com

  CAN SHE TRUST A MYSTERY MAN?

  Stranded in a blinding snowstorm, Laurel Adams must pin her hope of survival on a handsome stranger. The single mother and her teen daughter take refuge in his remote Rocky Mountain cabin. But Laurel’s anything but safe when she discovers a dead body in her trunk…and becomes the prime suspect in a murder investigation. Her rescuer, millionaire David Greene, knows what it’s like to be accused. Three years ago he was arrested for a crime he didn’t commit—an unsolved case that still haunts him. With the clock ticking, can they stop a cold-blooded killer with deadly ties to them both?

  I can’t lose her.…

  David gunned the engine, trailing Laurel’s car.

  When he drew up behind her, her brake lights winked at him in a pair of short bursts. A deliberate move. She wasn’t trying to lose him. She needed help.

  Redness edged David’s vision. If he got to this guy before the cops— No, he couldn’t let fury cloud his mind. He clamped down on his emotions.

  Laurel turned into a mall entrance and he signaled to follow, but another vehicle surged in front of him. Just that fast, he lost her.

  Eternal seconds later, as he drove around to the other side of the lot, his heart leaped. There was her car, the driver’s door wide-open.

  David slammed on the brakes and ran to her car. Empty!

  He stared wildly around, but saw nothing. His shoulders slumped. When she needed him the most, he’d failed the woman who meant more to him than his next heartbeat.

  Why did he realize how precious she was now—when he might never get the chance to tell her?

  Books by Jill Elizabeth Nelson

  Love Inspired Suspense

  Evidence of Murder

  Witness to Murder

  Calculated Revenge

  Legacy of Lies

  Betrayal on the Border

  Frame-Up

  JILL ELIZABETH NELSON

  writes what she likes to read—faith-based tales of adventure seasoned with romance. By day she operates as housing manager for a seniors’ apartment complex. By night she turns into a wild and crazy writer who can hardly wait to jot down all the exciting things her characters are telling her, so she can share them with her readers. More about Jill and her books can be found at www.jillelizabethnelson.com. She and her husband live in rural Minnesota, surrounded by the woods and prairie and their four grown children, who have settled nearby.

  FRAME-UP

  Jill Elizabeth Nelson

  Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.

  —Proverbs 31:30

  To all who have passed through the fire of testing and chosen the high road with God, who makes them over in His image; to all the single parents committed to raising their children right in a “gone wrong” world.

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER S
EVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  EPILOGUE

  DEAR READER

  QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

  EXCERPT

  ONE

  “Mo-o-om! Look out for the ditch!”

  Caroline’s squeal rippled like a minor earthquake down Laurel Adams’s spine. Her death grip on the steering wheel shot pain up her forearms as she hauled the car away from the telltale crunch of gravel beneath the tires.

  She squinted into the smothering blanket of white. Faint streaks of yellow winked on her left-hand side. Yes, she was again in her driving lane.

  A long breath eased from her throat as she let up another notch on the accelerator. They were crawling along at barely thirty-five miles per hour. She navigated more by feel than by sight. At least it was daytime—the middle of the afternoon, actually, though only her watch gave much assurance that the sun was overhead somewhere.

  None of the news services had predicted this pre-Thanksgiving storm in the Rocky Mountains that had swooped out of nowhere and swallowed them in its howling maw. If she’d had any warning, she would have cancelled her speaking engagement at YMCA of the Rockies, stayed snug in Denver and dealt with her daughter’s attitude in the comfort of their own home.

  “Can’t we turn around and go back?” Caroline’s mocha-brown gaze pleaded with her mother.

  “I’m sorry, sweetie.” Laurel shook her head. “We must be getting close to Estes Park. It’s safer to try to get that far and take shelter than to head home and hope we drive out of the storm.”

  Caroline scowled and let out a loud sniff. The girl had made no secret that she didn’t want to come along on her mom’s speaking engagement to the “praying and graying set.” She’d begged to stay with their next door neighbor Janice, Laurel’s best friend, like she often did when her mother traveled. Laurel hadn’t consented this time, for her daughter’s own good—or so she’d thought. In twenty-twenty hindsight, Caroline physically safe with Janice trumped Laurel’s intention to use this trip as an opportunity for a heart-to-heart.

  She spared a glance toward the teenager’s sullen profile. Caroline was blooming into a pretty young woman, but at the moment she was more the pouty child. The girl’s dark expression drew lines across her high forehead beneath a sleek cap of honey-blond hair and pinched a slender, straight nose into a sharp beak.

  Laurel swallowed a sigh. The onset of hormonal ping-pong, normal for a girl newly thirteen years of age, couldn’t be entirely to blame for the souring of her daughter’s formerly sunny disposition. The downhill spiral had begun a few months ago, about the time Caroline’s best friend moved away.

  “I know you miss Emily,” Laurel said, “but that doesn’t mean you can let your schoolwork suffer. That D in biology has to improve after Thanksgiving vacation.”

  Caroline groaned.

  “Oh, come on, sweetheart. Buck up! You’re not alone in the world, you know. You have a solid support system. We can get you a tutor, if you need one, or a study group. In fact, something like that might be a chance for you to get out of your shell and make new friends.”

  “Is that what your psychologist mind is telling you? That I’ve suddenly developed abandonment issues?” Caroline’s gaze narrowed. “If I didn’t freak out when my dad left us when I was three and never looked back, why would I lose it because Emily moved to Tulsa? I talk to her on the phone and online nearly every day.”

  Laurel fixed her attention straight ahead, words churning for release behind her lips. What could she say that would pop the cork on whatever festered inside her daughter’s heart? In her speaker persona, Laurel was touted as the voice of calm wisdom to beleaguered single parents everywhere, but right now she didn’t have a clue how to deal with her own daughter.

  Caroline threw her arms around herself. “Just for the record, Ms. Eldon is a head case. If you want to shrink someone, pick on her.”

  “Your biology teacher? Is she hard to talk to when you need help in class? I met her at parent-teacher conferences. She seemed cool and aloof, but very knowledgeable.”

  “Just your type, then.” Caroline waved a dismissive hand. “I’m sure you two hit it off.”

  If her daughter had spewed curses at her, the pain would have been more bearable. Is that how Caroline saw her mother? Detached? Distant? Laurel worked hard at being reasonable…approachable, especially with her daughter.

  Laurel swallowed and raised her chin. “Ms. Eldon’s personality isn’t the issue here. Your grades are important, young lady. You don’t have to like your teacher in order to do your schoolwork. This getaway to the mountains—away from distractions—should provide time for you to buckle down and study.”

  “Only if we get there ali—” A scream rent Caroline’s words.

  Laurel echoed her daughter as something large and dark darted out of the ditch and paused in front of them. She hit the brakes and the shuddering car skidded into a doughnut on the snow-glazed roadway. Laurel’s stomach leaped into her lungs, and her pulse jackhammered.

  Help, God!

  The car abruptly crunch-slid to a halt on the gravel verge facing the wrong way on the wrong side of the road. A few thuds from the trunk told of their luggage shifting. Laurel sat, staring straight ahead, arms rigid, fingers melded to the steering wheel. The creature that had been on the road in front of them was gone.

  Caroline whimpered. “What was that thing?”

  “Probably a deer.” Laurel inhaled long and hard, sucking her stomach back into her abdomen. “We can thank God we’re not stuck in the ditch.”

  “Or smashed at the bottom of a cliff.”

  “That, too.”

  “Or wrapped around a tree.” The girl’s tone edged toward hysteria. “I don’t think we can make it to Estes Park.”

  “We’re going to be fine, baby girl.” Laurel made herself speak firmly, confidently, like she addressed the audiences for her speaking engagements. God, help me keep that promise.

  Had Laurel dragged Caroline on this trip only to kill her—kill them both? The bass roar of the ceaseless wind taunted her question, rumbling like an endless sinister chuckle.

  Stop it! She shoved dark thoughts away. “God’s grace has seen us this far. He’s not about to abandon us. Check your phone to see if we have cell service yet. It would help if we could let someone know where we are.”

  Laurel resisted the shove of the wind as she guided the car back onto the tarmac and into their proper lane. Rudolph himself would have been grounded in this weather. A snicker rose to Laurel’s lips, but she suppressed the sound. Caroline would think her mother was succumbing to blizzard madness.

  “No service,” Caroline said, tone dull.

  “All right, then. If Estes Park is too far, we need to find other shelter. Be on the lookout for a residential driveway. A few hardy folks live out here.”

  “K.” The single syllable sounded more upbeat.

  Psychologically, in a tense situation, it helped to have a concrete goal toward a solution. Laurel schooled her breathing to remain deep and even.

  “There, Mom! On my side of the road. Looks like a driveway.”

  Laurel took her foot off the gas and coasted the vehicle, gaze searching the swirls of white. Sure enough, a patch of gray-black widened to their right, and a small sign listing a property address number winked between snow gusts. Did she dare hope they’d found a haven? Her heart rate fluttered. But what if this was someone’s vacation getaway, and no one was home? No matter. Her jaw firmed. They’d break in if necessary. This situation was life-or-death.

  “Good girl.” Laurel cramped the wheel to the right.

  The rear tires fishtailed, but the nose of the car plowed faithfully into the turnoff. At least the driveway—which stretched on farth
er than she could see—was paved. The owner must be quite well off to afford the luxury.

  Walls of darkness sprang up on either side of the vehicle, and the wind roar abruptly muted. Rows of sturdy pines blocked the wind’s buffet, and visibility improved marginally. Still, it was hard to feel safe. The drive was too narrow, the trees loomed too close. There wasn’t room to turn around in this bottleneck. They were committed to proceed until the driveway reached its destination. Long seconds passed, then minutes. Whoever owned this place must treasure seclusion in order to build so far back into the wilderness.

  Finally, they emerged into a clearing, where the dense snowfall shrouded their view of a dark mass shaped like a large cabin. During split-second lulls in driving snow, a light winked at them from a window. Thank You, God! The sight meant warmth and shelter. Maybe even a roaring fire in the hearth?

  As she stopped the vehicle, a muted cheer from Caroline drew a grin on Laurel’s face. “Someone’s home, sweetheart. I hope they don’t mind company dropping in.”

  Caroline answered with a shaky chuckle.

  “Are you ready to make a dash for it?” Laurel asked.

  “Race you to the porch!” The teenager leaped from the vehicle.

  “Whoa, there!” Laurel pressed her door open against the thrust of the wind. “Let me find out what sort of people live here.” But her words were gobbled in the roaring gale.

  Icy flakes stung her cheeks, and snow drifts swallowed her legs to the calf as she struggled around the side of the car, clutching her coat hood tight beneath her chin and her purse under one arm. She battled her way up a pair of wooden steps to find Caroline knocking on the door. So much for having an opportunity to check out their potential hosts first. As if they could afford to be choosy.

  The inner door swung open, and the backlit figure of a man gazed at them from behind the screen.