In Danger's Arms

PROLOGUE

The crescent moon hovered high and dull in the opaque, starless sky, its faint light casting a ghostly pallor on trees that stood huddled below, keeping watch in the darkness. A soft wind was blowing, gently rustling the leaves, disturbing the peace of an otherwise silent night. Swaying back and forth, the trees whispered together into the stillness, solemn witnesses to the unfolding secret of the man and the woman hidden within their midst. 

It was a secret they didn't know how long they were going to keep.

Ashley Taylor held her breath as she watched Maurice from a safe distance. Pushing her white station wagon from the rear, he sent it plunging over the side of the cliff. With a muted splash, the vehicle encountered the rushing water of the river below and was speedily swallowed up. He dashed back over to where Ashley sat waiting, threw the driver's door open, and slid hurriedly inside. The engine already alive, he floored the accelerator and sped off.

Heart pounding, eyes wide with fear and uncertainty she looked over at him as he steered the old Nissan at break-neck speed over the bumpy road.

"Do you think it'll work?" she asked, her voice hoarse, a whisper even though there was no possibility of anyone overhearing.

"It's the best chance you've got," Maurice, the bald, middle-aged man at her side, responded. "Just stick to the plan and everything should be okay."

Ashley stared ahead, a little comforted. At least as comforted as the circumstances allowed. She'd known Maurice Johnson all her twenty-eight years; he was her father's friend, his best friend, and she trusted him completely.

If things went according to plan, there would be reports tomorrow about her death. It had been Maurice's idea, after she'd turned up terrified at his watering hole two days earlier. Pulling him to one side, she'd told him that men had shown up at her house claiming to have murdered her brother. Now they were after her.

At that moment the voice of the anchorman had come from the television above the bar, corroborating the horrible claim. "There have been unconfirmed reports," he'd said, "that journalist John Taylor was found dead at his home a few hours ago..."

Maurice had taken her by the arm and had led her outside to the parking lot. They took her car and she'd recounted her ordeal, telling him tearfully all that had transpired earlier that evening. 

Checking constantly to ensure that they were not being followed, he'd taken her to a cabin he owned on the outskirts of town and there she'd remained, safely hidden away. Until tonight.

Maurice had instructed her to leave everything up to him, and she had. Now here they were, late at night, having done the unthinkable in a desperate bid to protect her life. They had chosen this deserted spot along a route she traversed often enough, hoping to allay as much suspicion as possible for as long as possible.

Leaving the dirt track behind, they now entered the main thoroughfare. There weren't many cars around, and Maurice slowed his pace to just within the speed limit as they traveled behind a small, grey van.

"Look on the back seat," he said after a few minutes. "There's a bag there. Inside you'll find some documents you're going to need."

Ashley twisted to her left and reached for the small black bag that was lying atop the seat. She pulled out a passport, a driver's license. The picture on both she recognized—it was hers. The name, though, she did not: Joan Brown.

"That's what you're to call yourself from now on," Maurice said as he guided the vehicle to the right, pre-empting her question. "There're some other papers in the bag as well, and some cash. Remember, never use your credit card. It can be a way to trace your whereabouts." Slowing down, he turned off the road and brought the car to a halt beside an old, abandoned building. "Just lay low for a while and I'll do my best to find out what's going on." The clear, black eyes in his kind, mahogany face showed just a small sign of worry.  

Ashley slowly replaced the items, then took his hands with her trembling ones. "I'm so scared," she said, eyes welling up, her voice cracking.

He pulled her to him and hugged her gently. "It's going to be all right," he said. Then he released her and got out. Ashley took the bags from her lap and deposited them on the passenger seat. She moved over to the driver's seat and shakily took hold of the steering wheel.

"One more thing," Maurice said, leaning forward as he closed the door. "Take this." He handed her a black cellular phone. "Use it for emergencies only. The charger's in the bag."

"Okay." She dropped the phone beside the bags on the seat, then looked hesitatingly at her friend.

"Go," he urged, touching her face with a weather-beaten hand.

Sucking in a lungful of air, she gave him a small, sad smile. She put the car into gear and drove off slowly into the night.