The Past Came Hunting

Blurb

“A poignant and compelling story that mixes suspense and romance in a most satisfying fashion. Melanie Norris struggles with her troubled past while trying to make a new life for herself and her son. She must escape a vengeful murderer, wrestle with her own demons and try to reconcile her love for a man she’s not sure can reciprocate. Full of romantic tension and gripping suspense. I couldn’t put it down.”

—Mike Befeler, author,
Senior Moments Are Murder

They Never Expected To Meet Again, But A Dangerous Past Haunts Them

Standing in the presence of Matt’s never-stay-at-home dad, relief flooded her. “Oh, Mr. Crandall, thank heavens. My name’s Melanie. My son, Luke, is a friend of Matt’s. Call me a flake, but I’m out of gas.”

He reached across the seat and opened the passenger door. Light flooded the interior. “Happens to the best of us. There’s a gas station on the corner. Hop in.”

Even though his voice seemed kind, she hesitated. After all, taking rides from sweet-talking strangers had been her downfall. But that had been a lifetime ago, and she knew this man. Or at least his son. The decision made, she rounded the car. Sliding in beside him, the scent of coffee and his musky fragrance filled the air. “I can’t thank you enough. I wanted to start... dinner.”

That’s when she saw this was no ordinary vehicle. A laptop computer was bracketed to the console, and above it a radio. The world seemed to slow as she focused on every detail. The dash... the console... and finally the man behind the wheel.

Her gaze took in his long legs, the veins in his powerful-looking hands, his rolled-up sleeves and at last settled on the sizeable scar on his inner forearm.

Shock made her numb.

It wasn’t possible. How had she missed the connection? She hadn’t thought of the man in years. The cop who’d arrested her, his name had been...
Crandall
.

Somehow Mel found the strength to look into his eyes. And when she did, she came face to face with what could only be a mutually shocked expression.

“You,” she whispered.

“You,” he replied.

The Past Came Hunting

by

Donnell Ann Bell

Bell Bridge Books

Copyright

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead,) events or locations is entirely coincidental.

Bell Bridge Books
PO BOX 300921
Memphis, TN 38130
eISBN: 978-1-61194-062-6
ISBN: 978-1-61194-048-0

Bell Bridge Books is an Imprint of BelleBooks, Inc.

Copyright © 2011 by Donnell Ann Bell

Printed and bound in the United States of America.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.

We at BelleBooks enjoy hearing from readers.
Visit our websites
http://www.BelleBooks.com
and
http://www.BellBridgeBooks.com
.

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2

Cover design: Debra Dixon
Interior design: Hank Smith
Photo credits:
Shadowy figure and background (manipulated) © Constantin Opris | Dreamstime.com

:Eptc:01:

Dedication

To my children, Audra and David, the two of you inspired this novel. No mom could be prouder of her children. It was my absolute joy to watch you grow on and off the court. This is for you.

1995

New River, Arizona, State Hwy. 89

Dead if you stay, dead if you jump...

Melanie Daniels hadn’t been asleep ten minutes before she felt the truck driver’s miserable paw on her crotch. Grandfather her ass. She’d hitched a ride with a filthy, wrinkled perv. Instantly awake, she slapped it off. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“That any way for a pretty young thing to talk?” He grinned, revealing a wad of chewing tobacco in his mouth, and slid his hand back to her thigh. “Just collecting my fare.”

Gagging, Mel yanked off her
seatbelt and yelled, “Pull over.”

“There’s the door.” The sleazebag laughed and grabbed at her breast.

Forget
this
. She clawed his arm and drew blood.

“You little bitch.” He backhanded her so fast, she never saw it coming.

All fury and nails, Mel went for his face. “Pull over this damn truck.”

“I don’t think so.” He shoved her off of him, covered his watering eye and mashed down on the gas. “Besides, tease, the next time I stop, I’m gonna teach you some manners.”

Tease?
Were they even riding in the same vehicle?
Noting his furious scowl, she watched the red-rock desert speed by. How fast were they going? Sixty? Seventy? Oh, god, she was desperate, not suicidal. He might’ve originally planned to cop a feel, but by fighting back, she’d lit the fuse of a rapist. Forcing back tears, she demanded, “Let me out of this truck.”

He threw her a malevolent glare. “No fucking way.”

Heart ramming against her ribcage, Mel dug her fingers into the armrest the way she wanted to tear into his flesh. But the last time she’d dove at him, the semi had swerved.

A half-mile down the road, the truck driver rounded a curve. And when she saw the diamond-shaped warning,
Steep Grade Ahead,
she’d never read more beautiful words.

No way in hell could this lumber-hauling rig maintain this speed. Sure enough, the driver recognized the problem, down-shifted and the big diesel engine whined to a crawl. As they trudged up the mountain pass, she shoved open the door.

Ignoring his bellow of surprise, and hanging on for dear life, she almost wretched at how far it was to the asphalt below. But as bad as things were, she hadn’t lived on this earth for seventeen years to check out of it now―or to let someone rape her, either.

Screw you, Grandpa Pervert.

Mel jumped.

She hit pavement, wincing and rolling, finally landing on her butt as the truck slowed, then picked up speed again and lumbered away. Obviously, the mangy creep had decided she was more trouble than she was worth. She stared at the skin beneath her fingernails and wiped a smattering of his blood on her terry cloth shorts. She dragged herself upright and tugged on her tattered cotton top. With gravel embedded in her palms, her legs cut and oozing, she gradually came to her feet. Then it hit her, and she whipped around in the direction of the semi, now just a spot in the distance.

Great. Just fucking great.

The bastard had driven off with her money and clothes.

Now what? Gritting her teeth, she considered thumbing a ride back to Phoenix. But no matter how much crap she had to deal with in this pitiful world, home no longer existed.

From the southbound lane, an engine purred. A car this time. Certainly not the grinding gears of an eighteen-wheeler. Much as she needed a ride, Mel couldn’t bring herself to stick out her thumb again. Limping in broken sandals, she scurried through foot-high weeds toward a copse of trees. A silver Corvette with California plates rounded the bend and immediately slowed.

She moved fast, but not fast enough.

Kicking up rock, the driver skidded to a halt and got out of his car. “Hey! Hey you, wait up.”

Each step was agony as she broke into a run. “Go away. Leave me alone.”

It didn’t take much for him to catch her and spin her around. “Hey, wait. What’s happened?” He touched her face where the trucker’s fist had caught her cheekbone. “You’re hurt. Let me help you.”

This was too much. Maybe when she jumped, she’d died after all. A guy with sandy blond hair falling into his eyes held her at arm’s length. And, holy shit, he was hot.

She jerked away from him. “I said,
leave me alone
.”

“I’m not going to hurt you.” He held up his hands as though to say he was harmless. “Let me give you a lift.”

Surrounded by the evergreens lining the highway, she stepped back. In a few short hours the sun would go down, leaving her to deal with more than predatory humans. She took in his good looks, the fancy clothes and expensive car. Why would some Ivy Leaguer living off of Mommy and Daddy’s money bother with her?

“I won’t sleep with you.”

His gaze roamed over her shredded top and filthy shorts and he dropped his hands. “Who’s asking? Like you’re some kind of prize.”

Mel flushed. The truth hurt almost as much as she did. “Where’re you heading?”

“Colorado. Boulder. Where’s your stuff?”

Her stomach sank. “Probably in Flagstaff by now. Look, I’m messed up. If I go with you, can I trust you?”

“Baby, I’d say compared to the last guy you were with, I’m a boy scout. Let’s get you cleaned up and into some new clothes.”

“I don’t have any money.”

“Did I ask you for any?”

He had an answer for everything and said all the right things. But if a grandpa trucker could let her down, what made her think she could trust this guy? Folding her scraped up arms, she said, “You’re not some serial killer?”

He laughed. “You found me out. I’m working on it, but not yet.”

“Very funny. You got a name?”

“Drake Maxwell.”

The name even sounded preppy.

“How about you?”

“Melanie Daniels.” Then, looking for a hole to crawl into, she said, “Back when I had friends, they called me Mel.”

He lifted a brow. “You comin’ or what?”

“I’ve always wanted to see Boulder. Guess I’m coming.”

True to his word, Drake stopped at a travel stop down the road, bought her a pair of sweats and a couple of T-shirts, then led her to the bathroom in back. There, he propped her on a wobbly metal counter and cleaned her injuries. His touch was light and his hands never wandered. Mel wondered if he was gay, or if she simply wasn’t good enough, still, the college boy intrigued her.

On the way out, the pretty salesclerk who’d sold him the clothes came on to him and he flirted back.

Mel muttered, “You two should get a room,” but Drake caught the comment and winked at her.

Inside the sleek Corvette, dressed in fresh clothes, she leaned against the luxurious leather, and after days and nights of sleeping in snatches, she fell into an exhausted sleep.

She awoke to pitch darkness and the steady drone of the highway beneath her. Stretching her aching body, she asked, “Where are we?”

“Colorado. We made it. You alive over there?”

“I feel like I jumped from a moving semi.”

He reached down to the floorboard and came up with a bag. “I can fix that.” He opened the sack to reveal a stash of pot and black beauties.

She clumsily rolled a joint, having recently taken to smoking dope on the streets―another in-your-face moment to her father for stabbing her mother and Mel in the heart. “I thought you were a boy scout.”

“I am. Can’t you tell? I come prepared.”

For the first time she smiled, and her hero smiled back. They shared the joint, downed a couple of black beauties and got off on the buzz.

They arrived in Colorado Springs a few minutes before dawn. “Hungry?” he asked.

“Starving. Know what I’d love? About a million chocolate donuts.”

He laughed, and no question about it, he had a great smile. “I’ll spot you a dozen. I could use some smokes and caffeine. Reach behind my seat and grab my jacket, will ya?”

It wasn’t the least bit cold outside. Still, Mel did as he asked. Surprised by its bulk, she said, “What’s in here, Fort Knox?”

“Spare change.”

He pulled off the interstate and into the parking lot of an isolated convenience store.

Normally pot relaxed her, but the beauties had brought out the jitters. Man, she needed something to eat. Through the glass plate window, she saw a young man behind the counter. He was all by himself, and she felt a kindred loneliness.

Perhaps Drake sensed her emptiness because he glanced over at her like he was sizing her up. “I’m glad we hooked up, Mel. Let’s make this quick, okay?”

Some of her melancholy lifted. She smiled at the guy who’d treated her like she was something special. She wasn’t stupid enough to think this was love, but, hey, she could do a lot worse. He had money and he hadn’t attacked her. If he wanted her around for a while, she was willing.

Leaning over the bucket seat, she kissed him. “Whatever you say.”

He left the motor running and got out of the car. She followed Drake, he held the door open for her and they entered a store so well-lit it could’ve been daytime. The smell of pastries, hotdogs and coffee made her mouth water. “Aren’t you afraid someone will steal your ride?”

Glancing behind him at the empty parking lot, he laughed. “Like who?”

She rolled her eyes. “Be right back, I’m going to the loo.”

“All right. But hurry it up, damn it. We don’t have much time.”

Stunned by his suddenly angry tone, Mel moved quickly. What was his problem? If he was worried about the Vette, he should have turned the damn thing off.

She used the bathroom, then opened the door to a madhouse of screaming. Racing back the way she came, she encountered the shock of her life. Oh god, why hadn’t she read the signs?

The college boy wasn’t a hero, and he certainly wasn’t a boy scout. He had the clerk face down on the floor, and Maxwell stood over him. In his hand, he held a gun.