Sudden Second Chance

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter One (#ulink_48d0f300-0ddf-50f3-8391-7ccc5212c329)

Beth’s heart skipped a beat as she ducked onto the path that led through a canopy of trees. The smell of damp earth and moldering mulch invaded her nostrils. She took a deep breath. The odor evoked the cycle of life—birth, death and rebirth. She’d smelled worse.

She gasped as a lacy, green leaf brushed her face. Then she knocked it away. If she freaked out and had a panic attack every time she delved into the forest, she’d have a hard time doing this story—and getting to the truth of her birth.

Straightening her shoulders, she tugged on her down vest and blew out a breath. She stepped over a fallen log, snapping a twig in two beneath her boot. The mist rising from the forest floor caressed her cheek and she raised her face to the moisture swirling around her.

The scent of pine cleared her sinuses and she dragged in a lungful of the fresh air. She’d definitely classify herself as a city girl, but this rustic, outdoor environment seemed to energize her.

Either that or the adrenaline was pumping so hard and fast through her veins, a massive anxiety attack waited right around the corner.

She continued on the path through the dense foliage, feeling stronger and stronger with each step. She could do this. The reward of possibly finding her true identity motivated her, blocking out the anxiety that the forest usually stirred up inside her.

She’d convinced Scott, the producer of Cold Case Chronicles, that she needed to come out ahead of her crew to do some initial interviews and footwork. She had her own video camera and could give Joel, her cameraman, a head start. Stoked by the show’s ratings from the previous season, Scott had been ready to grant her anything. Of course, she had a lot of work to do on her own before she got her guys up here. She’d have to stall Scott.

The trees rustled around her and she paused, tilting her head to one side. Maybe she should’ve researched the presence of wild animals out here. Did bears roam the Pacific Northwest? Wolves? She was pretty sure there were no tigers stalking through the forests of Washington. Were there?

As she took another step, leaves crackled behind her, too close for comfort, and she froze again. The hair on the back of her neck stood up and quivered, all her old fears flooding her senses.

She craned her head over her shoulder and released a gusty breath of air. A man walking a bicycle stuttered to a stop, his eyes widening in his gaunt face.

“Ma’am?”

The relief she’d felt a moment ago that it hadn’t been a tiger on her trail evaporated as she took in the man’s appearance. He had the hard look of a man who’d been in the joint. She recognized it from previous stories she’d done on her TV show, Cold Case Chronicles.

“Oh, hello. My husband and I were just taking a walk. He went ahead.”

He nodded once, a jerky, disjointed movement. “Come out to look at the kidnapping site, did ya?”

Heat washed into Beth’s cheeks. She wanted to make it clear to this man that she wasn’t just some morbid looky-loo, but what did it really matter?

“We were in the area anyway, and it’s so pretty out here.” She waved a hand toward the path she’d been following. “Is it much farther?”

“Not much.” He pushed his bike forward, wheeling around the same fallen log she’d stepped over earlier. “They were lookin’ at me for a bit.”

“Excuse me?” Beth tucked her hands into the pockets of her vest, her right hand tracing the outline of her pepper spray.

“For the kidnappings.” He hunched his scrawny shoulders. “Like I’d snatch a couple of kids.”

“Th...that must’ve been scary.” She slipped her index finger onto the spray button in her pocket. “How’d the police get that idea?”

“Because—” he looked to his left and right “—because I’d been in a little trouble before.”

Taking one step back, Beth coiled her muscles. She could take him—maybe—especially if she nailed him with the pepper spray first.

“And because I was there the first time.”

“What?” She snapped her jaw closed to keep it from hanging open. Did he mean he’d been in Timberline at the time the Timberline Trio was kidnapped? He definitely looked old enough.

“You know.” He wiped a hand across his mouth. “The first time when them three kids were snatched twenty years ago.”

Twenty-five years ago, she corrected him in her head.

“You were living here during that time?”

“I wasn’t the only one. Lots of people still around from that time.” His tone got defensive. “It’s just ’cause I had that other trouble. That’s why they looked at me—and because of the dead dog, only he wasn’t dead.”

A chill snaked up Beth’s spine. She definitely wanted to talk to this man later if he was telling the truth, but not now and not here in the middle of a dense forest with only the tigers to hear her screams.

“Well, I’d better catch up to my husband. A...are you going to the site, too?”

“No, ma’am. I’m just taking the shortcut to my house.” He raised one hand.

Then he turned his bike to the right and her shoulders dropped as she released the trigger on her pepper spray.

“Ma’am?”

She stopped, and without turning around, she said, “Yes?”

“Be careful out there. The Quileute swear this forest is haunted.”

“I will and I’m...we’re not afraid of ghosts—my husband and I.”

He emitted a noise, which sounded a lot like a snort, and then he wheeled his bike down another path, leaving the echo of crackling leaves.

Beth brushed her hair from her face and strode forward. He wouldn’t be hard to locate later—an ex-con on a bicycle who’d been questioned about the kidnappings. Maybe he’d have some insight into the Timberline Trio.

She tromped farther into the woods but never lost sight of the trail as it had been well used recently. What was wrong with people who wanted to see where three kids and a woman had been held against their will?

If she didn’t have a damned good excuse for being out here, she’d be exploring the town or sitting in front of the fireplace at her hotel enjoying a caramel latte with extra foam, reading—okay, she’d probably be reading a murder mystery or a true-crime book about a serial killer. The Pacific Northwest seemed to have those in spades.