Page 1 of Beckett
Chapter 1
Audra Cartland
The fist slammed against my car window, jerking me from nightmares into a worse reality. For one terrible moment, still caught between sleep and waking, I knew with bone-deep certainty—he’d found me.
My body moved before my mind caught up. Heart slamming against ribs, fingers already on my keys. A face pressed against the driver’s side glass, features grotesque in the predawn darkness. Wild, bloodshot eyes. Yellowed teeth bared in what might have been a grin or a grimace. Greasy hair hanging in strings.
Not him. But terror flooded my system anyway, electric and familiar.
The door handle rattled. Metal against metal, the sound sharp as breaking bones. “Hey! Hey, lady! I know you’re in there!”
His voice, rough with alcohol or drugs or madness, vibrated through the glass. Another slam—harder. The whole car rocked. I tasted copper where I’d bitten my tongue.
“I just need a few dollars. Come on! Open up!”
The engine of my ancient car wouldn’t start. My hands shook so violently, the keys jangled like wind chimes. First turn—nothing. Second—nothing.
The man’s face pressed closer, breath fogging my window, and oh God, what if the engine didn’t?—
It caught. I threw the car into reverse without looking, punching the gas. The man didn’t step back. If anything, he pressed closer, palms flat against my window, leaving greasy smears.
“Where you going? Hey! I’m talking to you!”
I hit the gas harder. The car lurched backward, tires screaming against asphalt. In my side mirror, I caught him stumbling, arms wheeling, mouth open in a shout I couldn’t hear over my hammering pulse. He chased me for three steps before giving up, standing in the empty parking lot like a scarecrow, still yelling at the dark.
I was all the way out of whatever town this was and my speedometer hitting sixty on the highway before I forced my foot to ease off. Deep breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth. The way Todd had taught me when panic attacks first started happening after our mother had died years ago.
I had to get myself under control. Getting pulled over meant questions. Questions meant danger.
Even after my heart settled from constantly telling myself it wasn’thim, I still drove. I didn’t know where. I never knew where.
Eventually, the gas gauge mocked me—needle kissing E, threatening to drop below. I had twenty-three dollars crumpledin my pocket. That would get me what? Five gallons? Maybe seventy miles if the mountains were kind.
It didn’t seem like anything was ever kind anymore.
I stopped anyway, using twenty of my twenty-three dollars for gas. I ignored the mouthwatering smell of hot dogs and coffee inside as I paid. I had no money for that, especially not at gas station prices.
I could almost admire the distant Montana mountains in the morning sky as I got back into my car. I’d always loved the mountains, the vast openness so unlike Seattle, where I’d made my home for the past decade. At least until about six months ago.
I gripped the steering wheel harder as I drove east. My eyes felt like someone had thrown sand in them, but adrenaline would carry me a while longer. It always did.
Until it didn’t.
But adrenaline wasn’t going to get me more money or food or gas. I couldn’t just keep driving. I had to come up with a plan. Soon, the gas gauge needle was back below Empty. What was I going to do?
Garnet Bend - 25 miles
The sign on the road appeared like some sort of…sign.
Garnet Bend.
My throat closed. Todd’s voice echoed in my memory, warm and alive:There’s this little town in Montana, Aud. A guy in my unit grew up there—Beckett Sinclair. Says the mountains hold you like a mother holds a baby. Safe. Protected. We’ll go someday. Visit Beck, camp, enjoy the mountains. I think you’d like him.
I smiled. My brother had always been trying to set me up. He’d mentioned something about a ranch here too. Resting Heroes?
No, Resting Warrior Ranch. Todd had always wanted to visit. Said they did good work there, although I didn’t know what type. Always figured I’d find out when we went to visit someday.
My smile faded. Eighteen months since a drunk driver had stolen all oursomedays. Eighteen months since I’d had anyone to call when the world turned dark and dangerous. And now…
