Run, Hide - By Carol Ericson Page 0,2

no mementos, nothing personal, and a smile twisted her lips. “There’s not much stuff...not much life.”

A fat tear rolled down Marti’s cheek, smearing her makeup. “Can’t you tell me what’s happening, Jenna? Won’t you let me help you?”

Jenna hugged her friend, her best friend for the past ten months she’d lived in Lovett Peak. “Thanks for everything, friend. And keep that gun handy for the next twenty-four hours.

“Let’s go, Gavin.”

“I’m going to miss you. Contact me when you can.” Marti extended her arms for one last hug.

A crack split the air, and Marti froze. Her heavily lined eyes widened and her lipsticked mouth went slack. She toppled forward, the blood from the gaping wound in the back of her head spreading onto the battered linoleum floor.

Covering Gavin’s face with one hand, Jenna screamed. The front window shattered and she ducked at the same time she realized the window had fallen apart from the bullet that had taken Marti’s life.

Lifting her gaze to the snowy scene outside, she saw nothing—no gun, no gunman—but she knew they were out there somewhere.

Gavin whined and tried to peel her fingers from his face. “What’s wrong with Marti?”

“She’s sick, honey.” Jenna crouched, covering Gavin with her body, and hustled him out the back door. If the assassins had their high-powered weapons aimed at the back of the house, too, she didn’t stand a chance.

She jogged across her small backyard in a hunched-over position, her muscles tight, her breath coming out in short spurts visible in the frosty air. She waited for the next shot.

They’d aim for her. They wouldn’t want to hit Gavin.

They just wanted to take him.

Shoving Gavin in front of her, Jenna swung through a gate that led to her neighbor’s side yard...her other neighbor. The image of Marti slammed against her brain, and her gut rolled.

Focus. Transportation. With her car out of commission, she and Gavin had been taking the free shuttle buses around town. After a week, she had memorized their schedules.

Head down, she stumbled through her neighbor’s yard, her boots slushing through the snow, half dragging, half carrying a complaining Gavin. Poking her head into the street, she set her sights on the Mountain View Hotel one block down.

The free shuttles made a stop at the hotel’s side entrance to take the tourists to the ski resort and the downtown restaurants. Looking neither right nor left, Jenna scurried to the side of the hotel.

She flattened her body against the wall, clutching her purse with one hand and her son with the other. A couple of skiers gathered on the steps of the hotel, their skis and poles pointing skyward.

When the bus pulled to the curb, Jenna hunched behind the skiers. The doors cranked open and she lunged for the first step, sweeping Gavin along with her.

She nabbed a seat near the back door of the bus and slumped in it.

Gavin kicked his legs beside her. “Skiing?”

“Not today.” She kept her voice low and hoped Gavin would do the same.

“Marti fell down.”

A sob hitched in Jenna’s throat. Those men had murdered Marti and it was all her fault. Her fault and his.

“Marti will be fine.”

The bus lurched forward and trundled along the snow-plowed streets. Jenna raised her head high enough to peek out the window. Were they out there? Were they following her?

“Are you going to snowboard?”

Jenna’s heart flipped and she grabbed the back of the seat in front of her.

A man had twisted around in his seat, his smile aimed at Gavin. Her son hunched his shoulders and darted a sideways glance at her. Then he shook his head.

The bus jerked to a stop, and the bus driver growled up front. “What the heck is going on now?”

Jenna’s heart picked up speed and she bolted upright in her seat. She leaned into the aisle of the bus to see if she could look through the front windshield, but she couldn’t see over the extended dashboard.

“What’s wrong?

“Looks like a truck has stalled across the lane up ahead.”

“A truck?” Jenna licked her dry lips. She’d seen a flash of a black truck out the window of her house, and that had been enough to send her scurrying for the crawl space beneath her living room floor. Her instincts had been right, then.

Were they right now?

Folding her body almost in half, she scooted up the aisle and peered out the front windshield.

“Miss, I’m going to have to ask you to take your seat.”

The bus driver’s voice sounded as if it was coming from