Page 30 of Code Trauma

Together, they raced for Sheriff Lewis’s cruiser, and Andy slung himself into the passenger seat even while he dialed Holly’s cell phone number.

When it went to voice mail, his heart thundered in his ears. “Hurry.”

The sheriff turned on the lights and siren, and they screamed down the road toward the motel where he’d left Holly.

Alone.

Unprotected.

He tried her number again. Voice mail.

Please God, take care of her.

“She could be in the shower,” the sheriff said. “Or sleeping.”

“True.” But he didn’t believe it.

11

Aknock on the door woke her. A quick glance at the clock said an hour and a half had passed since Andy had dropped her at the motel. Was he back already?

She glanced through the peephole and opened the door. “Hi. What are you doing here?”

The figure raised her right arm, and Holly found herself staring down the barrel of a wicked-looking gun. “Come with me.”

Holly stumbled back, and the woman shoved her way in. “What are you doing?”

“Now. Or I shoot you and go back and find that man who seems to care so much for you.”

Heart thudding, Holly straightened with her hands held so the woman could see them. “I thought we were friends, Rachel.”

“Not in this lifetime.”

“It was you? You set me up?”

“With pleasure. Although, if you remember, at first, I did try to simply get you to leave. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“But you hurt Liza Hollister.”

“No, you did.”

“What?”

A cruel smile curved Rachel’s lips. “Just because there’s a label on the bottle, doesn’t mean that’s what’s inside it.”

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what she meant. “You switched the drugs? Then reported my mistake anonymously.” It made sense now.

“It was the only thing I could think of to get you to leave!”

“But I’ve been suspended. Your plan worked. Why all this?”

“But for how long? Eventually, it’ll be proven that it wasn’t your fault. Even I know that. It’s only a matter of time. But right now, it all looks hopeless, doesn’t it?”

“Hopeless? What are you—” It hit her. Suicide. Rachel planned to make Holly’s death look like a suicide. Cold fear curled in her midsection.

“Yes,” the woman spat. “Hopeless. Poor little Holly caved when the pressure hit. Now come on, or I’m going to take my chances and just shoot you right here.”

Holly decided she’d have a better chance of escape outside the motel room than in it. She stepped out and let the door shut behind her, then, with the gun pressed in her lower back, she walked toward the car her kidnapper indicated. “Get in.”

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