Alaskan Mountain Pursuit Elizabeth Goddard (best short novels .TXT) 📖

“Keep going, Summer. You’ve got this.”

She pushed herself. Her leg throbbed. The more she thought about it, it had to be just a graze or she knew she couldn’t run on it, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. She’d never even been grazed by a bullet before.

She saw headlights in the predawn fog. The highway was close, just through a small patch of spruce trees. They kept running, and then she stopped just short of the clearing on the side of the road, still in the cover of the woods. “Do we just go out there and hope no one shoots at us?” The moon had come out from behind a cloud and was providing more light—not the best timing but not something they could change, either.

“Yes. He should still be behind us in the woods.”

“But what if he’s not?”

“I can’t promise you anything, Summer. But he’s not everywhere. And I don’t think it’s likely he’s going to be driving by anytime soon. He has to make it down the mountain with whatever wounds he has. And we can’t afford to spend too much time waiting. When we get to a phone we need to report all of this to the troopers so they can try to catch him and also give him any kind of medical assistance he needs.”

She looked at him, eyes wide.

“They teach us to shoot to eliminate the threat,” Clay said softly. “You don’t do that, you end up with dead officers. But we also are taught to do everything we can to save a life. Even the life of someone who doesn’t deserve it.”

The man was a cop to his core, had he realized that yet? Summer felt a pang in her chest. When he realized it, would he leave Moose Haven, head back to his little Georgia town and the police force he’d left behind? No matter how she felt about him—something she hadn’t had time to decide anyway—she didn’t think she could leave to go with him. She couldn’t abandon her family, or the lodge when they needed her there.

She wouldn’t let history repeat itself.

THIRTEEN

Clay could hear the fear in Summer’s voice, something he’d heard in it so rarely that it surprised him, though he knew it shouldn’t have. She had every right to fear after what she’d been through.

So he grabbed her hand, squeezed it and smiled. “We’re going to make it, Summer.” And then he pulled her out of the darkness of the woods, knowing the safety they felt there was an illusion. Staying in the shadows would only endanger them.

And Clay knew it. Which was why he made his feet move even though he understood Summer’s hesitations, felt them too.

The highway was mostly empty at this time of night. He glanced down at his watch, unable to tell from the deep blue of the sky how much time they had until it was good and daylight again. The deep blue was deceiving, not really darkness but not light, either. Alaskan midnight sun confused him.

It was 3:17 a.m.

The headlights continued approaching from the south. Clay hadn’t been counting on anyone headed up from the Kenai at this time of night, although he guessed getting an early start to Anchorage would make sense for some people. He hoped it was that and not people who were up to no good. Even if they could get a driver to stop for them, there was no guarantee that the man or woman could be trusted—that was the risk they had to take if they had any hope of getting back to the lodge safely.

“I’m going to flag them down.” Clay released Summer’s hand, then clicked on the flashlight he’d had in his pocket, a small penlight that gave off enough lumens that it should be able to catch a driver’s attention. He only prayed it didn’t catch the attention of the man who was after them.

The car slowed slightly. Clay kept waving his arms and the light.

They moved to the side of the road, then slowed to a stop.

Clay approached with caution. “Stay behind me,” he said to Summer in a quiet voice as he moved forward. The driver of the car had only lowered the window slightly and he didn’t blame them. He must look odd out there in the middle of the night, no car in sight, waving.

“Can you help us, please? There’s a man after us and we need a ride to Moose Haven. Or to Hope if that’s all you’re willing to do.” Moose Haven was another hour and a half, Clay guessed. Hope should only be about fifteen or twenty minutes away.

“Who are you?”

Clay could only see part of the driver’s face but it looked to be a woman in her forties. Not their shooter. Summer had identified him as a man. He was thankful for that.

“Ma’am, I know it sounds odd. But we’re from Moose Haven. You can call the police chief there, Noah Dawson, and he’ll tell you. I’m Clay, I work at Moose Haven Lodge and this is Summer Dawson.”

The woman’s face brightened. “Summer Dawson? You were a mountain runner?”

Summer nodded.

“My daughter started running cross-country because of you.”

Clay heard locks on the car click and held his breath. Was she giving them a ride?

“Jump in.” She nodded toward the back seat, then looked around. “But hurry, would you? If someone is after you I’d rather them not see us. I promised my husband I’d be careful on this drive. I don’t think he was expecting anything other than the usual dangers and I wouldn’t hear the end of it if I got shot.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much,” Summer said. Clay opened the back door and let her slide in first, then followed her. The woman pulled an impressive 180 in the middle of the road, since there was no traffic coming in either direction, and hit the gas.

“I’m going to call the police as soon as we