Love Inspired Suspense January 2014 (55 page)

Laney bit her lip. “I don't want to involve them.”

She nodded. “I understand that. I'd probably advise Beth to do the same, but I think normal people who weren't competing for an Olympic shot would advise you to do exactly that.” She gave Max a pointed glance. “I think those normal people would say your mental health and physical safety are worth more than a potential gold medal.”

He knew she was right. Laney should go to the police, even if it meant quitting racing, but he would not force her to do so. Was it fear that she'd end her racing career? Or worry that racing was the only thing that tied them together? Was he being respectful of her feelings or selfish because of his own?

Laney gave Jackie a hug, which the woman returned somewhat stiffly. “Thank you, Jackie. I know you want the best for me. I'll think about what you said, but in the meantime, I'm not going to involve the police.”

Jackie gave her an awkward pat. “I understand, and I won't volunteer any information, but if Coach Stan asks me directly about tonight I'm going to have to tell him, even if it makes you look bad.”

“I do understand, and I don't want you to do anything that puts your job in jeopardy.”

Jackie blinked and flashed a tight smile. “Thank you. If I couldn't coach, that would be bad for everyone.”

They headed for the street, where Beth and Tanya stood leaning against the bumper of Jackie's Volkswagen.

Max frowned. “No parking meter?”

“What?” Jackie said.

“I thought Tanya told me Beth went to feed the parking meter before the lights went out, but you're not parked in a metered space.”

Jackie's mouth twitched and she jangled the keys impatiently. “Tanya must have been mistaken.”

“So she wasn't with you, then,” he said lightly, “when the power went out.”

“No,” Jackie said. “Is there something significant in that?”

They locked eyes for a moment. He knew she would do anything for Beth just as he would do the same for Laney. At some level, this tough, competitive woman probably loved her student.

Like he loved Laney?

Thin ice, Max.

“No, nothing significant,” he said. Heading for more solid ground, he ushered Laney back to his truck.

FOURTEEN

B
efore dawn, Laney had another nightmare that jolted her awake, sweating and shivering. The car hurtled toward them as she clutched Max's hand. In the dream she wanted to scream, to shriek out a warning so the car would stop, but she could not move, riveted to the spot and mute with terror. For that, she was grateful. At least she hadn't awakened anyone with her screams this time.

Clutching the sheets around her, she let the feelings wash over her instead of wishing them away. White car, flying snow, the driver's face. A man? A woman? Try as she would to hold on to the fleeting memories, they sifted out of her consciousness like sand through a sieve. Instinct told her the memory was the key to understanding why Trevor Ancho was stalking her and why someone had sabotaged her skate. For once she wanted to remember, and now she found she couldn't.

She threw the pillow in frustration, startling Cubby from his sleep.

“Sorry, baby,” she murmured, gathering him up for a cuddle. Her mind floated back to the kiss, Max's lips against hers, the emotional connection that even now made her shiver. He was just relieved. That was all it had been. So why did every nerve in her body seem to recall the kiss in finely etched detail? Breathing deep, she blew the thoughts away. Checking the wall calendar, she confirmed that it was indeed Saturday, the day they were on their own for conditioning and workouts. Max had arranged some ice time, which would end with a practice sprint between herself and Beth.

Laney's thoughts returned to Beth as she fed Cubby. Max's question about Beth's whereabouts during the blackout at the coffee shop piqued her interest. At first it had worried her that he was paying particular notice to the girl, since Beth had taken every available opportunity to flirt with him. And why should it bother her? For one thing, she was way too young for him, on the cusp of twenty. And why would he be attracted to her? Sure she was pretty, vivacious, from a wealthy family. The list grew in Laney's mind along with an uncomfortable flutter in her stomach.

Beth was all the things Laney was not. Hip and edgy, a talented skater who could conceivably have two more chances at gold medals in her future, a girl who thrived on excitement and commanded attention from everyone she encountered. If that was what Max wanted, he was free to go after it, wasn't he?

She sat down on the edge of the bed and prayed, feeling the calm that always followed.

With a restored sense of ease, she checked her messages. One was from her father, who said he would be there for lunch with good news. She breathed a sigh of relief. Good news was something she could use, and the best news of all would be that her father was not going to do anything foolish where Ancho was concerned. She resolved to talk to him at lunch regarding the rumor that her sister mentioned about the cabin and the strange hints Peterson had dropped. It was time for full disclosure.

The second text was from Max.
Meet me at ten for training at running track. M.

Ten? The text had been sent thirty minutes before, at just barely 6:00 a.m. In all their days together, Max, who rose before the sun just like she did, had never embarked on a training session any later than 7:00 a.m. Starting at the luxurious hour of ten o'clock was inconceivable.

She knew. He was going to the junkyard, and he was determined not to involve her.

“Well, I'm involved, Max,” she said out loud. “So you might as well get used to it.”

I'm coming with you
, she messaged,
even if I have to hotwire a car.

She dressed quickly and stowed a couple of snacks in her jacket pockets. Max was in the parking lot, arms folded, long frame draped against the door of his truck.

“You have no idea how to hotwire a car,” he said.

“It's amazing what you can learn on YouTube.”

“Uh-huh.” He sighed and opened the door for her. “Get in, if you must.”

“Oh, I must,” she said. “Where's Nolan?”

“We're picking him up.”

They met the boy at a gas station in town. He greeted Laney enthusiastically as he hopped in. “Saw you crash. It was epic.”

She laughed. “Glad I was entertaining. Lots more exciting than making it to the finish line, I suppose.”

“Just like race-car driving,” Nolan enthused. “Crashes are what make it interesting.”

Nolan guided them to a main road that split off in different directions. Max headed south, which led them away from town, past small houses and an occasional vehicle. It promised to be a clear day, no snow in the forecast, and at the early morning hour the mountains were silhouetted in breathtaking detail as the sky turned from black to pewter. Nolan peppered them with questions about skating and competitions.

“Sounds like you've got the skating bug. Why don't you give it a shot?” Laney said. “Take some classes and try out for the junior team.”

Nolan's face shuttered, fingers picking at a hole in the knee of his jeans. “Too much work.”

“You don't look like someone who's afraid of work to me,” she said gently. “Is it too much money?”

Max shot her a look that said he found her question too nosy.

Nolan shrugged, looking out the window.

“I know how you can make it work,” she said quietly. The boy might have been herself at age fifteen, looking at the world from the outside in. If it wasn't for her father, she wouldn't have had the nerve, the means or the support to try skating. She could not help Nolan with the nerve, but she knew about a program that would help him get started, a program she and her sister had raised money to fund.

“I don't need any help,” he snapped.

“Okay. If you change your mind, let me know.” She scribbled her cell number on a piece of paper, and he took it grudgingly and jammed it into his pocket. Laney intended to do everything in her power to help change his mind.

The road climbed upward, and they passed pockets of blue spruce, green branches crowned with light patches of snow sparkling in the golden sunrise.

“Turn there,” Nolan said, pointing to a narrow road.

Laney clutched the door frame as they bumped along the uneven surface. “How did you ever find this place?”

“I like to explore,” he said. “Had a cool motorbike for a while until it busted.”

“Did you come here alone? All this way by yourself?” she said.

“I'm not a child,” Nolan informed her. “Been coming here since I was in grade school. School is boring, so sometimes I skip if I can get away with it.”

Max drove onto an area of more level ground and navigated a series of tight turns that brought them to the perimeter of a chain link fence. They piled out. Untidy heaps of motors and rusted scrap metal poked through the snow.

“There's a gate around the side,” Nolan said. “It's never locked 'cause the padlock's busted and they don't replace it.” He trotted along the perimeter of the fence and gestured for them to follow. “Come on.”

“I'm pretty sure this is a bad idea,” Max said, trying to stop Laney from following. “Let me...”

“Too late for a thinking it out, and besides, I don't see a No Trespassing sign,” she said as she followed Nolan.

“That's because most people know better,” he muttered, falling in behind her.

He was right, no doubt, but the sobering thought was not enough to slow her in the slightest.

* * *

Max caught up with them at the gate. Nolan was right, it was closed, but not secured due to the rusty padlock, which had been broken off. There was no sign indicating hours of operation or even declaring the owner of the property. Shutting off the cascade of warning advice from the place inside him where common sense resided, he opened the gate and stepped through behind Nolan and Laney.

“Who runs this junkyard?” Max whispered.

Nolan shrugged. “Mostly nobody. Never seen anyone here in all the times I visited. Every once in a while there's some new stuff, but mostly nothing ever changes here.”

It was some comfort to think it was an abandoned property since they were moving steadily toward trespassing. If they found anything they could get Officer Chen to come investigate properly.
A quick in and out, Max. That's all.

There was probably nothing but worthless metal inside, but could he really turn away when there was the possibility of uncovering the truth? A flicker of pain rippled up his leg. If someone had helped the hit-and-run driver cover up the crime, as Hugh Peterson suggested, then he had to do everything in his power to find out the identity of that person. If it turned out to be Ancho, so much the better. A thin layer of dirty snow crunched under his feet as he pushed farther in.

The evidence seemed to support Nolan's conclusion that the place was abandoned. It was more of a disordered labyrinth of junk than a well-run business, as far as he could see. He skirted a pile of hubcaps, rusted and ruined no doubt by the light coating of snow. Trailing in and out of the mess, he wondered again what exactly he hoped to find here. The white car that might have run them down? What were the chances of that exactly? A million to one.

“Watch your step, Laney,” he said, pointing to a bundle of metal rods that cut across their path. On either side rose piles of stacked cars, mashed into compact bundles, most of them so old the paint color was no longer discernible. An aroma of gasoline and mildew permeated the air.

He called to the boy, who had gone ahead. “Nolan, where did you see the car? The one that had the sharpening kit inside?”

“In the shed,” Nolan said, thrusting a finger. “There.”

Farther back was a wooden structure, enclosed on three sides and with a sheet-metal roof. A large sliding door was open, revealing an interior full of materials they would need to be closer to identify.

Laney was already making her way toward the shed.

It wouldn't do any good to tell her to slow down. He found, in spite of the unpleasant ticking of his nerves, that he was smiling. Telling Laney to slow down was like ordering the snow to return to the clouds. Not happening, and he found something inside him warmed at the thought. Her hair was gilded by the morning sun, sparkling almost as brightly as the ice crystals, delicate fingers splayed while she worked at keeping her balance and avoiding buried obstacles.

Perfect.
He did not know where the word had come from but it was true: this impulsive, forgetful, tender-hearted woman. Laney Thompson was divinely perfect in her imperfection. Divinely? As in made that way by God? He found it rang true in his soul, and with it came a wave of terror.

What God made breathtakingly perfect, He also took away.

Pain struck at him hard and brutal. The only way to dull that vicious agony was to keep her safe...and away from his heart.

Max quickened his pace, listening as he did so for any sound of someone else in the junkyard. He thought he caught a noise, the clink of metal, and he froze, ears straining for an endless minute, but nothing materialized. In spite of the hairs that prickled on the back of his neck, he forced himself to move carefully into the shed, stopping one more time before he entered to listen again.

Still nothing.

The old steel door had rusted into the open position a long time ago by the looks of it, allowing a small amount of snow to collect in the threshold.

Towering piles of junk rose nearly to the ceiling of the space, interlocking rods of rusted metal, broken car doors, engine parts and grilles of every description. Screws and bolts littered the floor.

“It's been a while since I been here.” Nolan pulled at a bent antenna, causing a miniavalanche of corroded bits to slide down.

“Don't do that,” Max cautioned, surveying the massive piles above them. “This stuff weighs several tons. One wrong shift and we're going to be buried alive.”

Nolan withdrew his hand, looking up at the hulking mass above them.

“So you never saw anyone here?” Max asked. “No employees or maybe somebody you've seen in town before?”

“Nope,” Nolan said. “One time there were some kids messing around, but no adults. That's why I like it here. It's like my own private hideaway.” He rubbed his chin. “Sorry, but I don't see that white car around anywhere. Guess somebody sold it for scrap or something.”

Laney peered closely at the stacks of cars. “Maybe it's farther back,” she said, squeezing between two pillars of wrecked autos.

“Don't, Laney,” he said. “You're going to destabilize it.”

“I'm being careful,” she said, moving farther in.

The sight of her tiny form dwarfed by the massive unsteady wall was too much. This had to end before Laney or Nolan got hurt. Time to be the voice of reason, or at least try, anyway. He went to take her arm and force her out of harm's way.

“Hey,” Nolan yelled. “I think I hear...”

Max reached for Laney just as a tumble of gears fell off a nearby stack. He held up an arm to shield them both as the rusted parts rained down, pinging into the smashed metal and cascading to the floor.

“I didn't make that happen,” Laney said, eyes wide.

In a moment, they heard the growl as a muscular black dog appeared over the top of a low pile, teeth bared, ears flat against its head.

Max froze, clutching Laney's hand, her fingers rigid in his palm.

The dog picked its way down from the top of the pile, nose twitching. Max watched in horror as the hair on the scruff of the dog's neck raised along with the volume of his growl.

“Stay behind me,” Max said to Laney, easing himself to shield her. “Nolan, walk slowly backward toward me, okay?”

Suddenly, the growls escalated into full-blown barks and the dog launched itself in their direction.