Framed For Murder. Mary Alford

time, she hadn’t understood its meaning. And in the chaos that had ensued after discovering Michael was dead, Liz had forgotten to mention the text to Aaron.

      She grabbed her burner phone again and typed a message to the mystery person.

      Who are you? How did you know Michael was dead?

      As she stared at the phone, willing an answer to come through, the blank screen in front of her seemed to confirm her suspicions. There was no way the texter could know about her partner’s death if he wasn’t somehow involved.

      Liz struggled to make sense of what had happened in less than twenty-four hours. There had to be something more in the works here than what the team had originally believed. This went much deeper than Sam and his deadly schemes.

      Through all the unanswered questions, one thing crystallized. She had now become the number one suspect in Michael’s murder. If she let herself be taken into custody, she had a feeling she wouldn’t walk out of the prison alive.

      Yet if she stayed, with all the evidence mounting against her, Aaron wouldn’t have a choice but to bring her in. She couldn’t bear the thought of him thinking she was guilty. His friendship had come to mean so much to her.

      Either way, time was running out on her freedom and possibly her life, so Liz hurried to her bedroom and stuffed as many things as she could into a backpack, then she went to her closet. The box that held her spare weapon was on the top shelf. Liz felt around until she’d found it. Right away she knew something was wrong. The box’s lid was open. Her Glock was gone.

      She was almost positive Michael had been killed with the same caliber gun.

      It was as if someone was carefully orchestrating her downfall.

      Liz dropped her personal cell phone on the kitchen table. If she took it with her, they’d be able to trace her movements. Instead, she grabbed the burner phone and her regulation gun along with the envelope and backpack and headed out the back door.

      Leaving headquarters presented another set of problems. She wouldn’t get far in Aaron’s vehicle. They’d be watching for it. She had one other option.

      Don Warren, the ranch’s caretaker, kept a work truck close by in one of the old barns. He let every team member use it whenever they needed. If she could reach the barn, it would at least buy her some time, but after that she’d need to find another means of transportation. As soon as the team discovered she’d taken the truck, they’d be on the lookout for it.

      She recalled Michael kept an old Jeep stored on the property he leased for hunting, which was adjacent to Aaron’s ranch. She’d been to the place once, but had no idea if the Jeep’s plates were even current or if it was in working order, but if she could make it there, she’d have a fighting chance of blending in with her surroundings. Jeeps were commonplace here in the mountains.

      Liz cracked the back door and listened. Nothing but silence. It wouldn’t last. Aaron would be coming for her soon.

      “I’m sorry,” she whispered for him and then slipped out into the cover of night.

      The evening was filled with thousands of stars. It was one of the things she loved about the wide-open ranch. Not a city light could be seen for miles.

      Liz rushed to the storage barn that held Warren’s old truck. The keys hung in the ignition still. Don kept his passkey secured underneath the driver’s seat. Liz fired the tired old vehicle up and eased toward the back entrance of the compound knowing full well the noise would carry. Hopefully, no one was around to hear it. When she reached the gate, she swiped the key and the gate slowly opened.

      “Come on, come on,” she whispered with urgency while keeping a careful eye behind her.

      The gate finally opened enough to allow the truck to pass through. Once she’d cleared it, she floored the gas pedal.

      It was a good ten-minute drive to Michael’s hunting cabin under the best of conditions. Running for her freedom and constantly checking the rearview mirror expecting trouble made those ten minutes feel like a lifetime.

      Once she reached Michael’s property, a single strand of barbed wire was all that kept curious onlookers away. Liz flipped the truck lights on bright and got out. A sense of being watched made her reach for the night vision binoculars she’d shoved in her bag last-minute. She scanned the surrounding area expecting someone to have followed her. She felt hunted and she had no idea who was coming after her. But nothing beyond a few animals searching for food stirred the quiet of the early morning.

      Discovering her backup weapon was missing felt like the final nail had been driven into her coffin. She had no doubt the Glock would turn up eventually and be matched to Michael’s murder weapon and then Aaron wouldn’t have a choice. He’d have to take her into custody and she couldn’t allow that to happen. If she did, she wouldn’t leave prison alive.

      With her freedom slipping away, there was only one option left. Run.

      Liz undid the makeshift gate leading to Michael’s cabin. The grown-up path that served as a road didn’t appear to have seen any traffic in a long time. Still, if she wanted to stay under the radar, she’d have to find a place to hide Don’s truck.

      Once she’d cleared her name and the real killer was in custody, she’d let Don know where she’d left the truck.

      Liz relocked the gate and eased down the path. Overgrown weeds slapped at the truck’s undercarriage. After a series of double-back bends, the headlights found Michael’s one-room cabin. Tucked in close to the side of the place, his primer gray–colored Jeep was parked under a ponderosa pine.

      Nothing about the cabin or the wreck of a Jeep was encouraging. What if the battery had drained due to the cold weather and lack of use? She didn’t even know if it was in working order.

      As hard as she tried to shut out her worries, she couldn’t. She had no idea who was trying to set her up. What if the text message was sent to throw her off and get her out in the open and unprotected? The real killer could be waiting inside the cabin right now.

      Liz closed her eyes and prayed fervently, then let God have her worries. She’d need a level head to make it through this thing alive. She couldn’t afford to fall apart now.

      She parked the truck some distance from the cabin in the shelter of a grove of aspens and peered out the window at the desolate surroundings. A shiver sped up her spine.

      Michael told her once that he’d grown up hunting and fishing in Montana. He spoke fondly of his father who had passed away when he was a teen. Yet whenever she’d asked more about his family or his past, his answers were vague. She sensed that his childhood might have been troubled, so she’d let it go. Now she wished she’d been more persistent.

      The envelope she’d found at his place called out to her from the passenger seat.

      As much as she trusted Aaron with her life, she had to know what was in that envelope before she told him about it. What if something in there implicated her?

      Desperate for answers, she ripped it open. A key fell out onto her hand. She turned it over. It appeared to be a house key, but what did it fit? Michael’s hunting cabin didn’t have a lock. He said he kept it secure by propping a chair in front of the door.

      More confused than ever, she pulled out the single piece of paper left inside. It contained a rudimentary map and directions to a remote cabin near Black Bear, Alaska, where Michael went salmon fishing. But it was what was scribbled in the note beneath the map that was most alarming. From the handwriting she could tell Michael had written it in a hurry.

      Liz, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. If you’re reading this note, then I’m probably dead and you could be next...

      Please forgive me. Tears filled her eyes. What had Michael done?

      Go to the cabin in Black Bear. Everything will be explained when you get there. Call Rick Evans. He’s a friend and he can fly you to Black Bear. You can trust him. Rick operates out of a private airstrip near Talkeetna,