Stranded. Debby Giusti

been less focused on her flight-attendant career and more tuned in to her sister’s needs, she might have responded to Briana’s call for help.

      Colleen had vowed to stop Trey lest he entice other young women to follow in her sister’s footsteps. If the Atlanta police continued to turn a blind eye to his South American operation, Colleen would find someone at the federal level who would respond to what she knew to be true.

      Needing evidence to substantiate her claims, she had photographed documents in Trey’s office and had taken a memory card that had come from one of the digital cameras he used in his photography business, a business that provided a legitimate cover for his illegal operation.

      She sighed with frustration. How could the Atlanta PD ignore evidence that proved Trey’s involvement? Yet, they had done just that, and when she’d phoned to follow up on the information she’d submitted, they’d made it sound as if she was the drug smuggler instead of Trey.

      Despite her protests, the cop with whom she’d dealt had mentioned a photograph mailed to the narcotics unit anonymously. The picture indicated Colleen’s participation in the trafficking operation she was trying to pin on Trey.

      Foolishly, she had allowed him to photograph her with a couple of his friends. A seemingly innocent pose, except those so-called friends must have been part of the drug racket. From what she’d learned about Trey over the past few months, he’d probably altered the photo of her to include evidence of possession and then mailed it to the police.

      Too often he’d boasted of being well connected with law enforcement. Evidently, he’d been telling the truth. In hindsight, she realized the cop had probably been on the take.

      She wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. No matter how much she wanted Trey behind bars, she couldn’t trust anyone involved in law enforcement at the local level. For all she knew, they were all receiving kickbacks.

      Later tonight, after returning to the motel in Atlanta where Colleen had been holed up and hiding out, she would overnight copies of everything she had secreted from Trey’s office, along with whatever evidence Vivian could provide, to the Drug Enforcement Administration’s Atlanta office. Surely Trey didn’t have influence with the federal DEA agents, although after the pointed questions she’d fielded following her sister’s death, Colleen didn’t have a warm spot in her heart for cops at any level.

      Glancing at her GPS, she anticipated the upcoming turn into a roadside picnic park. Vivian had insisted they meet in the country, far from where the army wife lived at Fort Rickman and the neighboring town of Freemont, Georgia.

      Colleen glanced again at her rearview mirror, relieved that hers was the only vehicle on the road. Vivian was right. Meeting away from Freemont and Fort Rickman had been a good decision. Except for the storm that threatened to add an unexpected complication to an already dangerous situation.

      Turning into the picnic park, Colleen spotted a car. A woman sat at the wheel. Braking to a stop next to the sedan, Colleen grabbed her purse off the seat and threw it in the rear. Then stretching across the console, she opened the passenger door, all the while keeping the motor running.

      Clutching a leather shoulder bag in one hand and a cell phone in the other, Vivian stepped from her car and slipped into the front seat. She was as tall as Colleen’s five feet seven inches, but with a pixie haircut that framed her alabaster skin and full mouth, which made her appear even more slender in person than in the photographs Colleen had seen on Facebook.

      Fear flashed from eyes that flicked around the car and the surrounding roadside park.

      “Were you followed?” Vivian nervously fingered her purse and then dropped it at her feet.

      “I doubled back a few times and didn’t see anyone.” Colleen pointed to the thick woods surrounding the off-road setting. “No one will find us here, Vivian. You’re safe.”

      Rain started to ping against the roof of the car. Colleen turned on the wipers.

      “I don’t feel safe.” Vivian bit her chipped nails and slumped lower in the seat. “And I’m not even sure I should trust you.”

      “I told you we’ll work together.”

      “What if my husband finds out?”

      Colleen understood the woman’s concern. “He was deployed. You were depressed, not yourself. If you’re honest with him, he’ll understand.”

      “He won’t understand why his wife accepted an all-expense-paid trip to a Colombian resort while he was deployed to a war zone. He also won’t understand how I got involved with Trey Howard.”

      Colleen’s sister had been as naive as Vivian. Briana had been used and abused by the drug dealer, which made Colleen realize how easily Vivian could have been taken in by Trey.

      “My sister made the same mistake. Two other women did, as well. That’s why I contacted you. You still have a chance to escape.”

      Vivian glanced out the window. “My husband has orders for Fort Hood. We’re moving in three weeks.” She raked her hand through her short hair. “I’ll be okay, unless the cops find out I smuggled drugs into the country.”

      “I’ll mail whatever evidence you brought today to the DEA without mentioning your name or mine. They won’t be able to trace anything back to either of us.” Colleen rubbed her hand reassuringly over the young woman’s shoulder. “Besides, you didn’t know what was in the package Trey had you bring into the US for him.”

      “I knew enough not to ask questions, which means I could end up in jail.” Vivian shrugged away from Colleen and reached for the door handle. “I made a mistake meeting you.”

      “Vivian, please.” Colleen grabbed the young woman’s arm before she stepped from the car.

      A shot rang out.

      Vivian clutched her side and fell onto the seat.

      Colleen’s heart stopped. She glanced into the woods, seeing movement. A man stood partially hidden in the underbrush, a raised rifle in his hands.

      Trey.

      A car was parked nearby. She couldn’t make out the make or model.

      “Stay down,” Colleen warned. Leaning across the console and around Vivian, she pulled the passenger door closed.

      Another shot. A rear window shattered.

      Vivian screamed.

      Fear clawed at Colleen’s throat. She threw the car into gear and floored the accelerator. The wheels squealed in protest as they left the roadside park.

      A weight settled on Colleen’s chest. Struggling to catch her breath, she gripped the steering wheel white-knuckled and focused on the two-lane country road that stretched before them.

      “He tried to kill me,” Vivian gasped. Tears filled her eyes.

      Colleen glanced at the hole in the window and the spray of glass that covered the rear seat. “He tried to kill both of us.”

      She should have known Trey would follow her. He loved fast cars, and no matter what he was driving today, her Honda Civic couldn’t outrun his vehicle of choice.

      Hot tears burned her eyes. “Our only chance is to find a place to hide and hope Trey thinks we continued north toward the interstate.”

      He’d eventually realize his mistake and double back to search for them. By then, they would have left the area by another route.

      “I’m scared,” Vivian groaned.

      Refusing to give voice to her own fear, Colleen focused on their most immediate problem. “What’s near here that could offer shelter? We need to stow the car out of sight.”

      “An Amish community.” Vivian pointed to the upcoming intersection. “Turn left. Then take the next right. There’s a small shop. An old barn sits in the rear. It’s usually empty when I drive by.”

      Colleen