by Sara L Foust
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Also by Sara L. Foust
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
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Dear Readers,
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Sara L. Foust
ROMANTIC SUSPENSE:
Callum’s Compass: Journey to Love
Camp Hope: Journey to Hope
Rarity Mountain: Journey to Faith
WOMEN’S FICTION:
Of Walls
The Kidnapping of Cody Moss
Smoky Mountain Suspense Book One
Sara L. Foust
THE KIDNAPPING OF CODY Moss, Smoky Mountain Suspense Book One
©2019 Sara L. Foust
Published by Silver Lining Literary Services
106 Offutt Rd.
Clinton, TN 37716
www.saralfoust.com
Printed in the United States of America
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, posted on any website, or transmitted in any form or any means—digital, electronic, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotation in printed reviews.
The persons and events portrayed in this work of fiction are the creations of the author, and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
ISBN 978-1-7329047-1-2
Scripture quoted is from the King James Version of the Bible, which is in public domain.
©2019 Cover Design by Sara L. Foust
For Abby
My energetic, artistic, beautiful firstborn. I love your imagination, your love of late nights, your creativity, and your kind heart. I am so proud that you are proud to be who you are—exactly as God made you. I love you. Stay sticky, alabooboo.
And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are called according to his purpose.
Romans 8:38 KJV
Chapter One
WHY COULDN’T SHE JUST say yes?
Annalise unlaced her hiking boots and wiped sweat from her brow with her shirtsleeve. This job offer was everything she ever wanted. Why couldn’t the little voice in the back of her mind just finally say yes? She groaned as she dug for her keys in the bottom of her pack.
Hiking in the fall was her favorite, when the crunch of leaves underfoot released a rich, earthy smell and the sun played in rainbowed treetops. This year’s color peak was still two weeks away, and the cooler temperatures had yet to arrive. At Annalise’s feet, Millie sat, her ridiculously long tongue lolling out of her half-smiling doggy mouth.
“Come on, Millicent. In ya go.”
Millie didn’t hesitate to leap into the open truck.
“Good girl.”
With her best beagle friend in the passenger seat, head hanging out the window into the fall air, and a good couple hours’ hiking under her belt, Annalise’s mind should’ve felt lighter. But no matter what she did, the weight wouldn’t leave. She had to make a decision about the new job by Friday, and she hadn’t even told Dave yet. Why had she waited so long to have this discussion with her husband?
Annalise slipped the small pack holding her badge and gun into the center console, took a swig of ice-cold water, and aimed her truck for home. If she hurried, she could have dinner on the table before Dave got there and maybe, for the first time in weeks, they would be able to share a meal and a conversation. Her stomach clenched at the thought of asking him to move, again. He seemed so content living in Norris. And he’d worked so hard to landscape their backyard and bring her vision to life. They’d had thirteen months in their new oasis, and now she would be asking him to leave it. For her career. Again.
And what about the new clientele he had managed to build? If they moved now, he’d be starting his heating and air conditioning business all over again. Again.
Norris was great. Everything she’d hoped it would be. Safe. Quaint. Filled with friendly East Tennesseans and genuine smiles. And a job that offered full benefits, a great retirement program, a salary that provided all they needed, and coworkers she had come to love in the past two years.
But.
But what?
What was it about this life she’d dreamed of that left her wanting? Wasn’t this exactly where she’d planned on being by her thirtieth birthday in a few weeks?
Her phone beeped with an incoming message. At the next stop sign, she glanced at it.
“Going to be late again. Sorry. Love ya.”
Oh, great. “Love ya, too, babe.” She dropped the phone into the cup holder, gave Millie a passing pat, and turned left. Two more turns and she’d be home. By herself. For the rest of the evening, if she guessed correctly.
When had Dave taken to saying love ya instead of I love you? Somewhere along the line, it slipped in, and Annalise couldn’t even begin to pinpoint the date, time, or reason. Should she worry?
She laughed, and Millie cocked her head sideways and looked at her. “What? I know it was a ridiculous thought too. You don’t have to point it out to me.”
And it was silly. Wasn’t it? Dave was, always had been, a wonderful husband. Patient, kind, hardworking. A deacon in their church before they left Memphis. A role model for the young men. She shook her head. That train of thought needed to run out of track. And then she needed to put the poor train out of its misery, wherever trains went to retire.
A hot shower massaged some of the thoughts from her mind, and the sliver of New York style cheesecake she’d hidden in the back of the fridge helped finish them off. She took a cup of decaf with hazelnut creamer to their backyard and settled into the swing hammock to watch the evening fall.
Millie followed her each step like usual, sinking to her stomach to watch the birds flit to and from the feeder. Her eyebrows tracked the birds’ movements, first left, then right, up then down. What would Millie watch when most of them flew south in a couple weeks?
Annalise was supposed to be at that stage where she stayed put. Threw down some roots, had some babies, and watched those delicate roots turn to massive oak trees. Why was her heart pulling her toward the Smokies? Toward this new idea and an old friend?
Her phone jingled. She picked it up without looking at the caller ID. “I was just thinking about y
ou.”
Her captain’s voice sounded through the line. “You were, eh? I hope it was good things.”
Oh my gosh, not Zach. “Sir, I am so sorry. Thought you were someone else.” Her cheeks burned as hot as a hundred-degree-day-at-the-lake sunburn.
“I need you at 1500 Dairy Pond Road. Had a bit of an incident come in from 9-1-1. My on-duty officer is working a car accident out toward the dam, and I need to join him. Do you mind coming in on your evening off?”
“Yes, sir. Or no, sir.” She chuckled. “I can be there in ten.”
A bit of an incident? No details. A cat in a tree? A fender bender? A missing newspaper? Wonder what her best friend Zach was up to this evening? Maybe something as benign as her case would probably turn out to be, but at least he’d had some exciting cases in Gatlinburg recently. Nothing bad seemed to ever happen in this tucked-away utopia.
And that was a good thing. Wasn’t it?
Chapter Two
ZACH LEEBOW FLAGGED at least the hundredth car around the fringe of the newest mudslide and shook the rain from his sleeve. It was coming down faster than they would be able to counteract soon. All they needed on the upcoming weekend was to have Highway 321 closed down. Their wettest East Tennessee spring on record had continued right on through a scorching, thunderstorm-filled summer and into the beginning of fall. And all their good ole East Tennessee red clay mud had started sliding months ago and never stopped. It was just a matter of which section would go next.
What would Annalise be doing right about now? Probably headed home to cook her husband a hearty supper. Too bad Jo was visiting friends back home all week. He missed her home cooking. A twinge of guilt poked his empty stomach. Did he miss her too?
He rolled his shoulders to shake off the rain and the gloomy thought. He’d just have to eat fast food again. Ick. He was sick of too-thin burgers and cholesterol sticks.
His days of traffic cop duty were coming to a rapid close. He couldn’t wait. He had met the other member of the new team, Kirk Johnson, a couple weeks ago. The man’s reputation had preceded him. If he could get Annalise on board, they’d have the perfect team for this new endeavor.
A rumble echoed through the channels between the mountains where the road slithered through their peaks. The road crew. Good. Maybe they could get things stabilized so he could go home.
He didn’t mean to sound so burnt-out and grouchy. But the truth was, he was. He’d never intended to stay low-level in the Gatlinburg police force. Routine traffic stops, crowd control, and domestic disputes grew boring almost as soon as he started handling them straight out of the academy. That was seven years ago.
Thankful for his job? Of course. But he’d always had a feeling there was something more he was meant to do. This new task force was God’s gift to him. Though it wasn’t something he’d envisioned, simply because it was a brand-new idea, all the details fit him perfectly. They would be in charge of investigating crimes and disappearances in the backcountry of the Great Smoky Mountains. The place he loved most in the whole world.
A car zipped by, faster than slow, and soaked the few remaining dry spots Zach had. Lovely.
The ground began to tremble as the tractors approached, and with his next breath, they rounded the corner. A slow procession that brought a smile to his face. The knobby-tired, big-bucketed cavalry had arrived. His stomach rumbled its agreement with the thought of getting to go home in the next hour. Hopefully.
He held up both hands and brought traffic to a full, grinding halt. One frustrated motorist honked. He was sure others wanted to and probably cursed him from the soundproof safety of their vehicles. The men on the tractors waved and began scraping up the goopy, soupy mess of clay mud, rock, fallen orange leaves, and bits of murdered plants and saplings.
The radio under his slicker crackled to life. “Officer requesting backup on the 500 block of the Little Pigeon. Nonemergency traffic. First officer available.”
Zach gave it a few minutes. No one replied. Fifteen more minutes and the crew would have this small slide under control. His shift had ended forty-five minutes ago, but on a night like this, with the county and the sky going crazy, he couldn’t turn a blind eye and head off to his warm, dry bed. He pulled his arm in through the gaping sleeve of his poncho and depressed the button. “I’ll be clear on the highway in ten to fifteen. If no one else becomes available, I’ll head up that way.”
“Ten-four, Officer Leebow. Thanks. Keep us posted.”
So much for dinner.
What was going on up there? Nonemergency was good, but if it wasn’t an emergency, why on earth did they need backup?
Half an hour later, Zach stepped out of his cruiser, slipped the slicker on once more, and strode to Officer Colby’s side. “What’s up?”
The young man, fresh from the academy, turned a pale face and dilated pupils toward him. With a single finger attached to a shaking hand, Colby pointed down the embankment.
In the fading light, Zach couldn’t positively identify the black mass at the bottom. But he had his suspicions this wasn’t a dead bear. He scooched down the mud-slick bank, and the smell of rotting flesh invaded his nostrils. Thoughts of eating vanished instantly.
He turned his flashlight beam toward the lump.
A torn, black t-shirt and blue jeans confirmed the humanity of the body.
Zach’s stomach clenched. It wasn’t his first death scene, but he never got used to them. “Colby, call dispatch and tell them to get the M.E. and an ambulance out here. Now.”
He searched the area surrounding the face-down body and found nothing, then he turned his light toward the creek. Normally calm and shallow, tonight it raged, licking the man’s boots. The last bout of heavy rain three hours ago must’ve pushed the body up on shore then receded as the water traveled downstream off the mountain.
Zach glanced up, but it was too dark to tell just how close the clouds were to unleashing another torrential downpour. If the drizzle continued, there should be nothing to worry about. But, if the sky decided to open up again, would they lose the body to the water?
“Gonna be at least an hour,” Colby called down the hill. “County’s red right now and the M.E. is in Knoxville.”
Great. Zach watched the edge of the water lapping at the dead man’s hiking boots. If it rose even an inch, he’d have to move the body and hope he didn’t disturb any evidence. He slipped on some latex gloves and prayed.
Zach snapped some photos with his phone then knelt and felt the man’s pockets. No wallet. No rectangular shapes like a cell phone. Possibly a flashlight in the front pocket, under the body, and there was definitely something in the other pocket, but without removing it, he couldn’t be sure what it was.
Purposefully avoiding looking too hard at the gaping wound on the back of the head, he passed his light over the shoulders, forearms, and hands. Scratches. Some abrasions at the base of the neck on either side. But nothing that screamed, to him at least, of a major altercation before the fatal gunshot wound to the head.
The water now danced at the man’s ankles.
Zach grunted, a moment of indecision giving him pause. But it would be better to preserve possession of the body and risk contamination than to let the body sink beneath the waves again. Right? If he’d been washed down the creek a ways, chances were most of the evidence would be gone anyway.
He looped his hands under the body’s arms. Lord, please keep him, and any evidence that may still be here, intact.
Zach hefted and pulled until the body was a safer distance from the water, then he rushed back to check the ground where the man had lain. What was this? He pulled his phone back out, took a few photos, and then gingerly picked up the sliver of paper.
A corner of a trail map, laminated by what Zach figured was packing tape on the intact edges, lay in the palm of his hand. Bingo. An actual clue.
A flash of lightning lit the sky, followed immediately by a tremendous boom of thunder. Seconds later the sky broke.
Ch
apter Three
ANNALISE STOPPED HER cruiser in front of a beautiful English-cottage-style home framed by sugar maples sporting brilliant crimson leaves illuminated by numerous yard lights. How many times had she admired this very one when driving by?
She was met at the front steps by a shorter, dark-haired woman clutching the chubby hand of a blond-haired toddler with round cheeks. “Thank goodness you’re here, ma’am. You have to get that infernal thing out of here.”
Great. Snake or skunk this time? “Can you tell me where it is?”
The woman pointed a quivering finger at a child’s red wagon sitting forgotten and forlorn across the wide yard. “There. Coulda killed my boy here.”
Snake then. Probably nonvenomous. Usually were. What were the chances it was even still in the wagon? In any other town, animal control or wildlife control would handle a situation like this. Not the police department. But in a city of less than fifteen hundred people with a crime rate 53% below the national average, chasing snakes, stray dogs, and trying to free the good citizens of skunks in mating season without getting sprayed were often the most exciting parts of their days.
Annalise picked up a long, forked stick and peeked over the side, shining her flashlight into the small space. What in the world? That was no snake. Or skunk. Or anything else alive. She tossed a glance toward the mother and her son waiting on the covered front porch. No wonder the mom had been so worried.
Holding up one finger, she trotted to her car and grabbed a pair of disposable gloves and a bag. Just in case. And returned to the wagon. She snapped a few photos then lifted the handgun gently and slipped it into a brown paper bag.
So strange. How on earth did it get into the little boy’s wagon? And where had it come from? Her thoughts carried her to her car and back to the porch. “Ma’am, who found the weapon?”
“My son. I already said that.”