Hidden Motive Read Free

her close for warmth.
    â€œI had nowhere to hide,” she said. “The flashlight beam was about to reach me. I had to go under, but it was so cold.”
    Her teeth began to chatter. Her breath misted the air. “I held my breath as long as I could, but the c-current k-k-kept—”
    â€œWe’ve got to warm you up or you’ll get hypothermia.” Murph helped her climb to safety on the steep bank. “Are you okay?”
    â€œFreezing,” she said with a shudder. “I’m f-freezing.”
    He opened his coat and drew her against him, wrapping her as completely as he could away from the wind. “You heard?”
    â€œM-most of it, until I went under.”
    Awkwardly, attempting to keep them both enclosed within the protective folds of his wet coat, Murph helped Sable along the bank to a muddy track.
    â€œWe’ve got to get out of here,” Murph said grimly. “I’m going with you to Missouri.”
    Sable stiffened, her teeth still chattering. “How?”
    â€œWe can take a bus from Freemont,” Murph said. “Right now they think we’re dead. We want them to keep thinking that, at least until we’re away from this place.”
    â€œD-didn’t you m-move here from Wichita?” Her voice rose and fell as her whole body shook. “Give y-yourself a break and get out of this mess. You’re not a p-part—”
    â€œI’m part of it now,” he said. “And stop trying to talk. You need to focus on warming up.”
    â€œMedically speaking, wh-whether or not a patient talks—”
    â€œDr. Chamberlin, be quiet.”
    â€œL-look, I ap-p-ppreciate everything y-you’re—”
    â€œYou’re in no position to argue with me right now,” he said, pulling the coat more tightly around her. He had to go with her, whether she invited him or not.
    â€œDo you have any money?” Sable asked. “I have an ATM—”
    â€œWe can’t use credit or ATM cards. They can be tracked.”
    â€œYou don’t think we could be tracked if we take a bus?” she challenged.
    â€œUnless you want to steal a car, we don’t have a choice. We can only hope they continue to believe we’re dead in the canal. I have cash in the lining of my coat for emergencies.” He didn’t tell her about the gun.
    She looked up at him. “Why are you prepared for an emergency?”
    â€œI’m always prepared. Let’s just get to Missouri.”

THREE
    I n the early hours of Saturday morning, the Southwestern Missouri weather, known for its February fickleness, was oppressively bleak in the Ozarks. The thick layer of clouds had pursued Sable and Murph from Freemont, hovering at each stopover, threatening further delays.
    Sable leaned back. She couldn’t sleep, but if she could close her eyes for a few moments…
    They had reached Joplin late last night, where the layover stretched two extra hours due to a storm in Kansas, which had delayed their connecting bus. Murph had made a futile attempt to rent a car while Sable had watched the doors at the station, expecting either Noah’s killers or the police.
    When they’d finally boarded this bus at 3:30 a.m., Sable had been jumpy with paranoia, suspiciously studying the four other passengers, including a teenage boy and a gray-haired lady.
    By the time they reached Cassville, near the Missouri-Arkansas border, the temperature took another plunge, freezing rain on the windshield. These conditions could be dangerous.
    Sable looked out on the wilderness of the Mark Twain National Forest as the bus lumbered around the curves of Highway 86. The engine muffled the sound of rainfall. The methodic swish of the wipers was hypnotic….
    The driver’s alarmed grunt startled Sable. The redheaded woman worked the steering wheel, her muscular arms taut with tension. The roads had quickly become opaque with ice.
    Jerri, the driver, had