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Witness in the Dark (Love Under Fire) by Hanson, Allison B. (9)

Chapter Thirteen

Sam focused on not stalling the truck, and on keeping her speed down despite the urge to drive as fast as possible. Her plans would be cut short if she was pulled over for reckless driving.

Spotting a sign for the interstate in her headlights, she decided that was her best bet. She could get farther, quicker, on the interstate. Plus, it meant less shifting. According to the signs, they were on the outskirts of Baltimore.

Baltimore? Seriously?

Wendy must have driven around in circles to get there from D.C., since it had taken them the entire day to make a two-hour drive. No doubt done on purpose so Sam wouldn’t know where she was.

She headed south now, out of the city, while running through her options.

Obviously she couldn’t go back to D.C., let alone Baileys Crossroads. She was dead, after all. Even if she weren’t, it would be dangerous to get Nikki or Anthony involved in this mess.

The truck had three-quarters of a tank of gas, so that wouldn’t be an issue for a while. The bigger problem was with the ladder rack and the logo on the door—it was distinctive. The night was dark and moonless now, but in the morning that logo would be glaringly visible. She either needed to do something about it, or steal another vehicle.

It wasn’t likely that many other cars would have the keys tucked in the visor, so she decided to keep the truck and find a way to disguise it.

“Think, Sam, think.”

It wasn’t long before she recognized where she was. She’d come here with Nikki at the beginning of the summer, and they’d gone horseback riding and kayaking at an outdoor sports complex—the type that would be closed for winter.

She got off at the correct exit and, naturally, stalled the truck at the stop sign. The car behind her beeped in irritation as she restarted the engine and pulled out.

“Have some patience. It’s my first stolen vehicle, for crying out loud,” she muttered, and spared a second to give the guy the finger as he turned in the opposite direction. “Asshole!” she called after him, and shifted into third.

Thankfully, she was getting the hang of the stick. It helped that the road was fairly rural with little traffic this time of night, so she could cruise through any other stop signs without having to shift gears too much.

She let out a breath when she saw a billboard announcing the entrance to the Mountain Adventure complex was in two miles. The sign boasted hiking, horseback riding, tubing, and kayaking. It also said April through October.

It would have been the perfect place…if it hadn’t had a gate chained across the entrance.

According to the clock on the dash, it was nearly midnight. She got out and surveyed the problem. The gate wasn’t super heavy duty, just enough to keep normal people out, not crazy fugitives. If she crashed through it, she would dent up the front of the truck and maybe cause damage that would make it unusable.

Looking for a miracle, she climbed up into the back of the truck, dodging the ladder rack to reach the toolbox. Of course, it was locked.

“Why can’t a girl catch a break?” she said with a huff, and hopped down from the truck again. Taking a rock from the landscaped border by the entrance sign, she tried to break the lock on the toolbox. The first hit came down fairly hard, but not hard enough. Again. Again.

Again.

Once more, and the lock finally gave way. The top of the toolbox sprang open and almost hit her in the face. She jumped back and fell against the ladder rail, hitting her head. Ow. Some master thief she was.

After taking a moment to shake off the pain, she began rummaging through the box for something useful.

From inside, a beautiful chrome chain glistened back at her in the light coming from the sign overhead. It looked like a glorious silver snake. Though it was heavy, and longer than she needed, the links were as thick as her fingers.

Yes, this would do very nicely.

She hooked one end to the trailer hitch on the back of the truck, and the other end to the gate, once she’d managed to back the truck up into position. After stalling three times, she was finally ready to pull the gate open.

“This is such a bad idea,” she said as she put the vehicle in first gear and pulled away as steadily as she could manage.

The gate opened.

After unhooking the chain, she closed the gate behind her before continuing down the bumpy lane to the parking area next to a small creek. She knew from her time there that the little creek fed down into a bigger creek, and then eventually into the Potomac River.

If it weren’t the middle of October and freezing out, maybe she could have stolen a canoe and paddled to safety, but it was too risky. She didn’t want to deal with hypothermia along with all her other problems.

She parked under the dusk-to-dawn light on the building that sold sports equipment, and got out of the truck, ready to make the logo unrecognizable.

As she worked, she thought about her next step. Where would she go? She had nowhere to hide, no one to help her. She was all on her own.

And people from both sides were out to kill her.

How the hell was she going to survive?