As she stood there, lost in thought, a loud honk startled her. She looked up to see a big rig pulling to a stop in front of her. The driver's window rolled down, revealing a middle-aged man with a bushy beard and a fleshy face.

  He looked at her in a way that told her he knew exactly who, and what, she was. She knew that look all too well. It had only been a couple of weeks since her life had spiraled down to this point, but it didn't take long to understand how things were.

  The way his eyes scanned her body made her feel exposed, vulnerable, and utterly powerless. It wasn't the first time she'd been looked at like this, but it didn't make it any less unsettling.

  She knew she had no other choice - well, she did, but the choices she'd need to make to get there felt too vast. Too impossible. They felt like next week’s challenge, too massive for now.

  But then, the idea of getting into a stranger's truck, again, made her feel sick.

  "Hey, little lady! C'mere," he called. A knowing smile hovered on his full lips.

  She didn't want to go anywhere near him, but the thought of Jack's anger was frightening her. He hadn't hit her face - yet, because she'd agreed to go out and do this. If she came back without the money, she knew he would smash her face. And he'd dropped her off here. She had no cash, she was freezing cold, and all she had on her was her phone to call him when she was done.

  Reluctantly, feeling as if she was walking through glue, she approached the trucker.

  As she got closer, the man's eyes roamed over her again, causing her to feel even more exposed. She tried to ignore his gaze, but it was impossible with the way he was staring at her. She felt like a piece of meat, being examined by a butcher, and it made her skin crawl.

  The truck's passenger door swung open and she clambered up.

  Something - some instinctive voice inside her - told her not to close that door. That she shouldn't shut herself in with him until she was sure that this was going to be okay.

  "So, I'm guessin' you're lookin' for a good time, same as I am?"

  Be enthusiastic. Play the game. Come back with money - or don't come back at all. The voice inside her head urged her forward, despite the fact that she now felt revolted by herself and her actions.

  "Yeah, just lookin' to do what I enjoy." She smiled.

  "What's your price?"

  She told him. The truck was thrumming under her, the engine idling as they spoke, because he hadn't turned it off.

  "I'll tell you what." Now his voice was predatory. "I'll add another twenty to that, but here's the deal. You come with me. There's a stop down the road. I've got a couple of friends waiting there. It won't even be a three-for-one, because you'll get more money. How about it? You up for a good time with us?

  He grinned at her, teeth yellow in his florid face.

  And, seeing her expression, he hit the gas.

  He wasn't waiting for an answer, or even for her to close the door. He'd closed the deal on his side and now he was heading out of the truck stop, taking her with him to a scenario that was so horrifying that she knew, immediately, the line was drawn.

  Time to stop.

  "No!" she shouted. She turned to the open door, scrambling for it, horrified by how fast the blacktop below was already moving, and by how far down it was.

  No time to think. He was grabbing for her from behind, his hand tearing at her jacket, slipping off the fluffy fabric; and then she was out, thudding onto the hard surface, sprawling on her hands and knees, her purse landing beside her and bursting open as the truck now roared away.

  She was breathing hard, her skin grazed and bleeding, tears flooding her eyes.

  That had been so close, so close to becoming something she didn't even want to think about and couldn't bear to imagine.

  She couldn't do this.

  No more. Not again. This had taught her.

  She felt as if she'd hit rock bottom. She hadn't known there was one, but now, she could feel it under her.

  And surprisingly, it gave her the courage she needed, at last, to push up from it.

  Splayed on the blacktop, blood oozing from her scratches, she finally realized she had the strength inside her to say there would be no more.

  "I'm not going back to you, Jack," she said aloud, her voice hoarse and wobbly, but the words a promise. "I'm not. No more of this. I am going to make my life different."

  An engine sound behind her. The squeal of brakes.

  She looked up, her head jerking around, adrenaline flaring. Was this him, back again like some kind of nightmare?

  A voice from the cab, kindly sounding. A trustworthy voice. Its owner wearing a wide brimmed hat.

  "You okay there?"

  She scrambled to her feet. She was shaking all over.

  "I - I think so, yes"

  "Looks like you could use a ride. Seems you were in a bad situation, back there?"

  She considered her options. She needed a ride, desperately needed a way out of here. If Jack came back, when she was at this truck stop, there'd be trouble. And she might risk capitulating, and going home with him, and the beating and the drugs and the pimping would carry on in the same vicious cycle.

  "I could use a ride," she agreed.

  "Hop in. I'll drop you off in town?"

  "Findlay?" That was the biggest town in this direction, about a hundred miles further on. Big enough for her to hide, to find a way to survive. Far enough from Jack. She might not have a dime to her name, but she had a phone, and she could make a plan. And she would.

  "Yes."

  "Thank you," she said. She climbed in, relief washing over her, still shaking from the narrow escape, shivering with cold. This was a smaller truck, not an eighteen-wheeler, but a medium-sized utility vehicle transporting smaller loads.

  A chance to start again. That was what she’d been given, and she was going to take it. This entire series of events had happened for a reason, she decided, and the reason was to show herself how far she’d fallen and how bad things could get.

  Now, she was going to turn her life around, she resolved, as the driver accelerated, heading for the exit. No more toxic boyfriends. No more getting caught up in drugs and drink and selling herself. Findlay was going to be her fresh start, a chance she’d been given and would take.

  She was distracted from her thoughts as the driver slowed.

  "You look cold,” he told her. “There's a bag under the seat in front of you. It’s got a pair of gloves inside. You might want to take them?"

  “Thank you,” she said, relieved at the prospect of getting her hands warm, and keeping them cozy when she got where she was going.

  She hadn't seen a bag, but there must be one there. Maybe she needed to look more closely.

  She bent down, rummaging under the seat.

  And as she did, she sensed a flash of movement from behind her.

  Something hard thudded down onto the back of her head.

  She felt stars explode, tried to struggle, a moment's fear breaking like a white hot flare through the mists telling her that if she thought she'd reached rock bottom she was wrong; if she thought she was all out of bad luck, she was wrong.

  No fresh start. Not anymore. It was too late for that.

  Then, the world went gray and she knew nothing more.

  CHAPTER ONE

  At last, she'd tracked him down.

  Exhaustion and resolve warred inside Cora Shields as she scrambled up the rocky track. She was approaching from the back of the mountain. There was a path from the front. Though rough, it wasn't quite as steep, but she didn't care about the steepness.

  What she cared about was the element of surprise. She hadn't gotten this far to have him get away or hide.

  Shielding her sea gray eyes against the morning sun, she took a look at where the path went. It rounded a bush, and then went up a section of sheer rock. But, if she grabbed that branch from the tree that was clinging to the slope, and to its precarious life on the mountainside, she could get past the rock.

  A dark baseball cap covered her auburn hair. The half of her hairstyle that wasn’t shaved, was swept back, away from her face, held firmly in place by the cap.

  She grabbed the branch with all of her fingers and hauled herself up, sweat making her hands slippery. She wasn't big, but her compact frame was strong. The tattoos on her arms looked dark in the sun's glare. The snake seemed to writhe as she bunched her muscles. Cobra, her nickname had been, back in the Navy SEALs. And like a cobra, she was here for a deadly strike, intent on her goal.

  Gabriel Finch’s father. Buddy Finch, as he’d been informally known and she’d half-forgotten. This was where he was hiding out, in this remote area. The coordinates were showing her the way. Gabriel’s mother had given them to him, and he’d given them to her.

  Cora suspected this creepy ex-coach, a man that even Gabe’s family had disowned, of taking her sister. How low could you be, to message back and forth with a girl that your son was dating? As if you were trying to steal her from him?

  Gabe had loved Rose for a couple of years. Cora had loved her for all her life. Her disappearance had torn Cora’s family apart. She was determined to find her, determined that this time she’d push through the pain and wouldn’t be sidetracked, wouldn’t give up. No more.

  Either Buddy Finch would tell her what had happened to Rose, or she’d put a bullet through his head.

  Both the above, one following the other, were even more appealing.

  She grasped the branch more tightly, hissing in a breath as rocks slipped under her foot, scattering down the mountainside as she flailed for purchase, not wanting to go sliding and tumbling back down this steep track herself.

  The edge of her boot caught a fissure in the rock and she shoved her weight against it using the branch to help pull.

  And she was past the sheer section. Now, she was almost at the top, and she quieted her movements, trying to climb the last few yards as soundlessly as she could.

  Stealth would help her here, as much as she wanted to go in guns blazing, shouting and screaming her rage at what he'd done, and who he'd become. She wanted to learn the truth, but the only way she could do that for sure was to confront the man she’d been told was hiding up here. And she wanted to give him no more chances to get away.

  Stay calm, she told herself. Stay focused.

  But as she clambered up the last few yards, stepping cautiously, she couldn't help the memories of her sister that filled her mind.

  Her blonde hair, her cute, cheeky smile, the love that Cora had felt for her.

  A protective love. Somehow, when she'd disappeared, Cora's heart had become a desert for a long, long time. There had been no joy, no trust.

  At the top of the slope, she used the last few seconds of her climb to study the place.

  She could hear the trickle of a stream coming from nearby. The mountaintop flattened out into a small, grassy, treed area where a few cabins had been built, nestled against the sides of the trees and the bigger rocks. It seemed like once, long ago, it might have been a small mountain community, nestled among the rocky peaks. It was a harsh world here, but people had made this little foothold for themselves. Had, being the key word. It looked empty and unoccupied. Some of the homes looked on the point of falling apart.

  Had everyone moved away and abandoned this community? It seemed like it. Everyone except him. Now where was he? Was he still here? She'd been told so by the most reliable source, his wife. She guessed it would be like him to be the last left in a decaying community.

  Cora tensed.

  Sweeping the area with her eyes narrowed, she'd seen movement coming from behind the second cabin.

  Her heart pounding, she crouched down behind a thick clump of bushes, and reached for her gun's holster, feeling it solid in her hand. She could guess what Gabe's father was like, and what her welcome would be if she tracked him down. She had come prepared and she wasn't afraid to use it if needed.

  As she peeked through the leaves, she saw him emerge from the side of the cabin. He looked thinner, more worn than she remembered from the photos and the old, blurred memories. But his demeanor was still alert and watchful, and there was a coldness in his eyes that made her shiver.

  It was him at last. Gabe's father. The man who had taken her sister. He was wearing tired looking beige pants and a mud brown flannel shirt, and walking toward the edge of the cliff, his back turned to her.

  Was he carrying? Did he have a firearm on him? She tensed, suddenly wary, and tried to move closer, her steps silent, her focus intent.

  As he reached the edge of the cliff, he paused and glanced out over the valley below. Cora saw the way his shoulders sagged, as if carrying a heavy burden. Was it guilt over what he'd done to her sister? Or was it something else?

  She didn't trust this man, not an inch.

  Cora swallowed hard, her finger hovering over the trigger of her gun. This was the moment of reckoning. She had to confront him, and she had to make him talk.

  Suddenly, she couldn't wait anymore.

  Standing up, she showed herself to him, her hand still on her gun.

  "Finch!" she shouted.

  He turned, faster than she'd expected. Oh, yes, he had been expecting trouble of some kind. He’d been ready, a guilty man in waiting. His hand flew to his gun and Cora dove sideways, instinct and training and experience in a hundred combat situations taking over as a shot crashed out.

  Cora felt her heart racing as she rolled behind a nearby boulder, her gun in hand. She had expected him to be armed, but she hadn't thought he'd be so quick to shoot.

  She peeked around the edge of the boulder, seeing a flash of beige among the green, the pale blur of a hand. Buddy Finch was moving quickly, trying to reposition himself for a clear shot. Cora knew she had to act fast if she was going to get the answers she needed.

  "What the hell are you doing?" she yelled. "Shooting? I'm here to ask questions!"

  She paused. There was only silence. Was he repositioning himself? How far would this man go?

  She decided to push it.

  "Maybe you know what they are. Maybe you don't want to tell me the answers, because I've found you at last!"

  Another shot split the air, and her eardrums. Splinters ricocheted off the boulder and Cora ducked away.

  "Stop this!" she yelled.

  Flattening herself, she looked for a way to return fire. She needed to scare him badly. She had no idea where he was. Maybe he was closing in.

  Deciding to surprise him, she wriggled around to the boulder's other side. From here, a thick, spiky bush provided cover, and she could see him clearly. He was staring at where she’d been, his demeanor tense, his gun ready. And, now that she could see him clearly, she was shocked.

  His face was not just thin, but haggard. His hands, holding the gun, were trembling. His hair was wild, unruly, tugged by the breeze into a tangled nest. He looked like he hadn't bathed in a while. Even though she couldn't expect worse from him, she was still surprised.

  What the hell had gone so very wrong in his life? Why had he made all these destructive choices?

  Never mind that. Time, now, to frighten the hell out of this man. She squeezed off a shot, aiming for his ankle.

  The bullet winged the side of his boot and he let out a shrill cry, twisting around, looking frantically from side to side. Another shot rang out from his side, this one into empty air, she guessed, because she didn’t hear it hit.

  "Next one goes into your chest," she yelled. "You're going to come off worse from this. Put the gun down! I want to talk."

  Another pause.

  "I don't want to talk to you!"

  "You were messaging her. My sister, Rose. I know you were. And right here, right now, I want to know what happened. What happened to her? You took her; I know it! And I'm not going away until I get answers. If I need to, I'm going to make a call and get the FBI in right now. I have the proof; I have the connections. Don't think for a moment I won't!" She let the threat hang heavy in her voice. She meant every goddamn word.

  And he capitulated.

  She heard the sigh, all the way from behind her boulder.

  "What do you want?" he finally spat out, his voice hoarse and gravelly.

  "I want answers," Cora said, keeping her voice low and steady. "I want to know what you did to my sister."

  Cora could see the turmoil in his face, the battle between his guilt and his fear. But finally, he released a deep breath and slowly lowered his weapon. Peering from behind the thick undergrowth, Cora kept her aim on him, just in case.

  "She was with me," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "For a little while."

  Rage flared within her.

  "And then?" she challenged. "What did she do after you used and abused her?"

  "It wasn't like that!" His voice was agonized.

  "Where did she go?"

  "She - we were doing some business with someone. Business, on the side. She was helping me."

  Finally, his voice was lowering. It was as if he was in tune with his memories again, acknowledging them at last.

  "With whom?"

  "Guy who was - he was connected."

  "Connected, how?"

  "Name of Mario. He was in with the mob. I was doing some deals."

  "With the Mafia?" Her voice sharpened. Her fingers dug into the dirt.

  "She went with him. I didn't even know about it until it was too late. She went with him, she ran away from me. She left me for him. He was her secret boyfriend! Now, go! Go, leave me alone, I know nothing more!”

  His voice rose to a crescendo.

  Cora stared at him, not trusting this version, wondering if it was an elaborate lie that he was making up to save himself. Her sister had been involved with the Mafia? It was the last thing she had expected to hear. This was like being trapped in a maze. Twists and turns, but no way to find the end.

  "What happened next?" she demanded, hoping that details would help drill down to the truth, if it was that at all. "Where is this guy? I need to know, damn it. You took my sister! Now, you tell me how to find him!"

 

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