Chapter 1
A naked woman dashed onto the deserted rural road barely fifty feet in front of the patrol car. Deputy Sheriff Luke Johnson jerked the steering wheel to the right and slammed on the brakes. What the hell? As he stared in disbelief at the person frozen like a deer in his headlights, the crack of gunfire shattered the peace and quiet of the San Diego County countryside.
The woman screamed and dropped to the ground.
“Shit!” Luke stomped on the gas. His vehicle lurched forward on the gravel shoulder, spraying rocks from beneath its tires. The shots had likely come from the nearby eucalyptus trees, so he positioned the patrol car as a protective barrier between them and the woman. A quick check through the window revealed no obvious signs of blood on or around her. Thank God, maybe she isn’t hit.
Automatically, Luke shoved the gearshift into park and set the brake before grabbing his gun and leaning down to scrutinize the wooded area from the passenger-side window. Since the headlights and the moon were the only illumination, finding the shooter in the dense foliage would be nearly impossible, but movement in the heavy brush caught his eye. Zeroing in on the spot, he aimed but didn’t fire. Unfortunately, he just couldn’t see what was there, and firing blind was not an option.
He continued to scan the trees while sliding back to the driver’s side and pushing the door open. Glancing at the woman again, he lowered himself to the ground. “Are you hurt?” he called.
Lying flat on her stomach, she trembled convulsively as she raised her head. Her wild eyes blinked again and again as if she was trying to determine whether Luke was real or only a hallucination. Her mouth opened, but no words came out. Closing her eyes, she shook her head no.
“Stay down. I’m coming to get you,” he said.
But she didn’t wait for him. She struggled to her hands and knees and crawled toward the car.
Bending low, he scrambled to her side and hovered over her with his gun raised and ready. “How many are there?”
“One.” Her answer was a whispered croak.
“Who?” he asked, his eyes still searching for signs of the shooter.
“A man.”
“Name?”
“Don’t know.”
As they reached the side of the patrol car, the roar of a powerful engine and the crunch of brush came from beyond the trees. Straightening, Luke aimed his gun and waited, but the noise moved away in the opposite direction. He remained on guard until the last sounds from the other vehicle faded and quiet returned.
“Help me, please help me,” the woman pleaded, clutching his leg. “Don’t let him take me again.”
Luke squatted in front of her. “You’re safe now. You’re gonna be okay.”
For the first time, her appearance—besides being naked—registered. She was wet, her smooth skin slick and shiny, her brown hair hanging in dripping strands across her breasts. Red friction burns and purple bruises covered her wrists and ankles. Dark circles and long lashes ringed her large hazel eyes. She shivered uncontrollably.
“You must be freezing. Let’s get you in the car,” he said. “I’ll grab the blanket from the trunk and crank up the heat.”
Wrapping one arm around her shoulders, he helped her stand and then lowered her gently onto the backseat. But when he opened the trunk a few moments later, the emergency blanket was missing.
“Sorry, no blanket, but you can use this,” he said, pulling off his jacket and handing it to her.
Since her hands shook so badly that she couldn’t put it on, he guided her arms into the sleeves and fastened the front, being careful not to touch her bare breasts. With a sharp exhale, he dropped into the driver’s seat, switched the heat to full blast, and got on the radio.
“Shots fired on Old Shelby Road near the abandoned trailer park. The intended victim—white female, late twenties—is safe. I believe the shooter—male, no further description—has left the scene. Send backup and an ambulance.”
“No,” the woman said. “No ambulance. He…he’ll get me.”
Luke twisted in his seat to look at her. “We need to get you to a hospital, miss.”
With her eyes still wild and her face drained of color, she peered fearfully at the trees and then back at him. “Can…can you take me?”
He hesitated, but the terror in her eyes persuaded him. “Okay.” He shifted to the front again and lowered his voice. “Cancel the ambulance. Notify North County Hospital that I’m bringing the vic in myself. I’ll also take her statement before I leave.” Then he reported the minimal information he had about the brief, but serious, incident.
After signing off the radio, he studied the woman in the rearview mirror. She had shut her eyes and rested her head against the cushion. She’d felt so fragile when he had helped her into the car, and now she looked exhausted. And abused. Even wearing his jacket and hugging herself, she continued to shake violently. Probably in shock. Anger at her attacker simmered in his gut.
When he swung open the car door, the woman jumped and gasped.
“Just me,” he reassured her before stripping off his uniform shirt.
She gaped at him until he draped the shirt across her lap and tucked it in around her legs. When he finished, she managed a faint smile and a soft, “Thank you.”
He nodded. “What’s your name?”
“Elle.” She paused several seconds before continuing. “Elle…Bradley.”
He frowned at her hesitation and at the vague familiarity of her name. Why didn’t she want to tell him her full name? And why did it ring a bell? Before he could puzzle it out or question her further, sirens blared in the distance.
“Cavalry’s almost here. I should brief them before we head to the hospital. Can you wait a little longer?”
“Yes,” she said and closed her eyes again.
Luke motioned for the two arriving patrol cars to park several yards back from where his sat idling. He brushed off the good-natured ribbing from his colleagues about his lack of a shirt, but he resented their curious glances at the woman in the backseat. He needed to get her to the hospital ASAP, so he explained what had happened quickly.
“Ms. Bradley ran out of the woods and stopped there when I was about fifty feet in that direction. That’s also where she was standing when the bastard took a couple shots at her but missed. Not much chance of finding the damn bullets in the dark. We’ll have to come back tomorrow. I heard the perp’s vehicle—sounded like a large truck—leave from behind those trees. Might’ve left some tracks or debris. I saw movement in the brush about thirty yards north, but it could’ve been a deer or coyote.” In less than five minutes, he finished his succinct briefing. “I wish I had more for you guys to go on. I’ll try to get some useful info from the vic later.”
“Where’s the ambulance?” asked one of the deputies.
“She didn’t want one.”
“Why not? You said she had injuries.”
“I’m transporting her to the hospital because she’s afraid the jerk might get to her in the ambulance.”
The other deputy frowned. “Not SOP.”
Luke shrugged. “I think she’s been through a lot.” He didn’t want to answer more questions about her, so he abruptly ended the conversation. “Good luck finding any evidence tonight.”
A few minutes later, he drove away from the crime scene. The cruiser felt like an oven, making him glad to be shirtless.
“I don’t know if you’re from around here, but Ramona is a small town. We don’t have a hospital. It’ll take about fifteen minutes with lights and siren to get to the nearest one,” he explained. “You okay until then?”
“Yes…thanks.”
While he drove, he stole several glimpses of his passenger in the mirror. Her eyes were closed once again, and her head rested against the seat back. His cop instincts screamed that he’d seen her before. Or at least seen a picture of her. But where?
Elle Bradley. Elle Bradley. Her name played over and over in his mind. Why was it familiar? When had he heard or read it?
Then, it hit him. He glanced over his shoulder at the battered woman and realized why he hadn’t recognized her. She had looked very different in the photographs. But why hadn’t she immediately explained who she was and what had happened? Her behavior made no sense, and even her injuries could be nothing more than window dressing. Suspicion tightened his jaw. Suddenly, he questioned the entire incident. Was it real or staged?
* * *
“I know who you are,” the deputy announced loud enough to rouse her.
His words ripped away her armor of anonymity. She tensed and slowly opened her eyes. “Of course, you do. I told you my name.”
“But you didn’t say you’re the Elle Bradley, the woman who was kidnapped in Washington about a month ago, the rising-star socialite in DC’s inner circles, the fiancée of the son of a high-ranking federal bureaucrat, and the award-winning investigative reporter for a nationwide newspaper.”
She sighed with resignation and met his gaze in the mirror. “I plead guilty to the first and last charges only.”
“The FBI has been searching for you. Hell, law enforcement all over the country has been on the lookout for you. Your parents and fiancé were on TV, begging the kidnapper not to hurt you and to let you go. Don’t you think you should call someone immediately and tell them you’re all right?”
His impatient, lecturing tone annoyed her. He wasn’t the one who’d just survived a horrible ordeal. This deputy didn’t know anything about what she’d endured. In fact, he couldn’t know anything meaningful about her at all. Few people did, and she liked it that way. How dare he judge me? Resentment bubbled up. “You mean I should tell someone that you rescued me so you can get your fifteen minutes of fame.”
He switched off the siren and swerved onto the shoulder. Then he whipped around in his seat to stare at her hard. “Hell no. I just think there are a damn lot of people out there who are worried sick about you, many who’ve spent countless hours trying to find and save you. They deserve to know you’re safe.”
Pressing her fingertips against her temples, she shook her head. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I just don’t know if I’m ready to deal with…with everything. The questions. The spotlight. All of it. None of it.”
His expression softened. “My boss can call the FBI, and they’ll contact your family. But don’t you think your parents would rather hear directly from you?”
The deputy really didn’t understand. How could he? It was her parents—especially her mother—that she was most not ready to deal with. The past month of torturous captivity had injured her spirit as well as her body. She needed time to heal, starting with some anonymous decompression time.
Most daughters would get complete, compassionate support from their mothers, but not Elle. Allison Bradley would be more interested in the limelight, the notoriety, the fame of being the mother of a kidnap victim, than she would be in helping her daughter recover. And right now, just the thought of coping with her mother on top of everything else was too overwhelming.
Pulling in a deep, fortifying breath, she combed her fingers through her wet hair and cringed at the decision she had to make. If her parents learned of her escape from anyone else, there’d be hell to pay. She would never hear the end of it. They would make it a bigger issue than catching her abductor.
Well, damn. For years she had dealt with them, and she’d do it again by calling like an obedient daughter but also by controlling the extent of the conversation. Calling? Her mood brightened. “I don’t have a phone.”
“Use mine.”
“Do you have to be so helpful?”
“You didn’t complain when I loaned you my shirt and jacket.”
He had a point. The deputy was half naked while on duty, something she’d overheard his colleagues teasing him about.
“Okay, fine. Give me your phone.”
“You’re sure?” he asked, pulling it from his pants pocket.
“I guess. You wouldn’t also happen to have a flask of whiskey with you, Deputy…Helpful?”
“No, ma’am. Just my phone.” Grinning, he got out of the car to hand it to her since there was no way to pass it through the protective partition between the seats.
Dreading what she had to do, she accepted his phone reluctantly. She noticed the local time on the cell—almost 10:00 p.m. Sunday—which meant it was the wee hours of the morning in Washington. But the time really didn’t matter. Steeling herself, she poked the numbers that would connect her to the center of her family maelstrom.
The phone at the other end rang ten times before a sleepy male voice answered. “The Bradley residence.”
“Hello, George. Sorry to wake you. I need to talk to…Father.”
“Miss Elle? Is that you? Are you all right?” the Bradleys’ longtime butler asked.
“I…I’m safe.” She smiled at Deputy Helpful, who had them on the road again but without the earsplitting siren. “I was just rescued by a very nice deputy.”
“Thank heavens. I’ll get your father for you. Please…hold, Miss Elle.”
Had George sensed she wanted to hang up? She almost chuckled at how normal that seemed.
Only a few minutes passed before her mother’s voice screeched in her ear. “Sweetie, we’ve been so worried. The stress has been just terrible on your father and me. I was so concerned about his heart, you know. And, of course, Richard has been miserable. First the silly breakup and then your disappearance. You have called him, haven’t you?”
Again, normal. “I’m okay, Mother. Thanks for asking.”
Strained silence followed.
A click signaled her father was on the phone now, too. “Elle, are you all right, honey? Do you need anything? What can we do?”
“I’m…okay, considering. I’m on my way to the hospital, but none of my injuries are serious.”
“Injuries?” Allison screeched again. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”
Elle drew a deep breath. “Not much. Mostly minor stuff from struggling against the restraints.”
“Be sure to get pictures of everything. It’ll be good—”
“Publicity. I know, Mother. There’s no such thing as bad publicity.”
“Where are you, honey?” her father asked.
“Uh…San Diego County. At least that’s what it says on the side of the patrol car.”
“We’ll be on a plane first thing in the morning. Can we reach you at this number?”
“No, this is a borrowed cell.” She gulped. “Look, I need…some time to recover. Some time…alone and quiet.”
“Don’t worry, sweetie. We’ll reserve the best hotel suite in San Diego,” her mother said.
Elle clenched her jaw. “I don’t want you two to come. Do you understand? Do not come. I have to go now. We’re at the hospital,” she lied. She looked up to find Deputy Helpful’s puzzled expression in the mirror. “I’ll call when I can.”
“Sure, sweetie. We’ll contact Richard and the news org—”
Elle disconnected before saying something truly awful to her mother. She lowered her gaze so she wouldn’t see the disapproval in the deputy’s eyes.
They rode the remaining distance in silence. Thankfully, the shakes had stopped, and she finally felt warm. The poor man had probably been baking the whole trip but never complained once. With a sigh, she pushed aside her regret for his discomfort at her expense because she needed to focus on something more urgent.
Who the hell had kidnapped her and why?
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