Mistake Creek

Rachel Amphlett

Description

Nina O'Brien's life changes forever when a stranger appears at the door to her father's truck stop, bloodied and incoherent.As night falls and a ferocious storm descends on the tiny Californian community, the small group of people sheltering with Nina steel themselves to face the onslaught, only to be confronted by a ruthless killer.With nowhere to run, and no means to raise the alarm, Nina must decide who to trust if she is to survive the night.

Sujets

• Policier
• Thriller
• Espionnage
• Fiction
• Police procedural
• Espionage
• Renseignement

Informations

• Publié par: Saxon Publishing
• Date de parution: 30 juin 2015
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• Langue: English

Extrait

MISTAKE CREEK
AN ACTION ADVENTURE MYSTERY


RACHEL AMPHLETT
Copyright © 2015 by Rachel Amphlett
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. While the locations in this book are a mixture of real and imagined, the characters are totally fictitious. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead is entirely coincidental.
Discover more of Rachel’s books – download the FREE Official Reading Guide with exclusive extracts here
CONTENTS



Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41


About the Author
ONE

Central Valley, California
Kyle Roberts sucked in a deep breath of air and willed the fire in his leg muscles to ease.
He’d been running for what seemed an age, sliding over exposed stones and rocks, all the time straining his ears to listen for signs of his pursuers.
His jeans, dirty and torn, stuck to his legs, the ends of his shirt flapping from under a faded black leather jacket.
He stopped and squinted over his shoulder, paranoia squeezing his gut.
Intermittent flashes of lightning illuminated the landscape, casting an eerie purple-yellow hue across the terrain. Clouds tumbled over each other, hastening towards the valley, churning the sky into darkening shades of grey.
They’d heard the storm warnings on the radio earlier that afternoon – news of a drought-breaker, with the accompanying instructions to secure loose outdoor items and seek shelter.
The men had worked more urgently, the whole team desperate to keep the operation on schedule. Tempers had frayed, his real identity had been compromised, and then Kyle had found out what it was like to be on the receiving end of a sharp knife.
His hand traveled to his shoulder and came away sticky. The wound would never stop bleeding all the time he remained in motion, but he had little choice.
He ran a dirty hand through his hair and wondered if John had managed to get away from the men who wanted them dead, whether he was now steering the stolen car along the dirt track that ran between the farming properties across the ridge towards town.
They’d heard rumours that the creek had been likely to flood, taking out the bridge that spanned the wide expanse of water, and in turn wiping out any hope they’d held to get help.
They’d only managed to escape with one vehicle, Kyle choosing to jump out and send John on his way while he escaped on foot in the opposite direction, hoping to distract their pursuers.
If he did make it as far as the highway without being caught, Kyle planned to flag down the first available vehicle and disappear in the opposite direction, over the range and away from the valley.
He’d ruled out heading to the neighbouring farm to raise the alarm – their pursuers would likely check there first.
Trouble brewed over his shoulder, in the shape of an angry grey and purple storm front. The storm head billowed towards him, darkening the skies, while the rocky escarpment beyond had become a blue-grey hue.
A flock of birds screeched overhead, their route taking them away from the encroaching onslaught.
The air had turned oppressive, viscous with charged ozone and a stifling humidity. On the horizon, patches of pale sunlight shone through the grey clouds, attempting a last stand against the approaching storm.
Fat raindrops hit the ground, the coolness hissing against the hot earth.
His head twitched as, to his left, half a mile below him on the incline, a dark shape lurched forwards through the gloom and began to gain height, the far-off roar of a powerful engine reaching his ears.
They were closing in on him .
He gritted his teeth and swore in frustration as his waterlogged boots sank into the mud, slowing him down. He wrenched his foot from the soaked earth and began to stagger towards the upper part of the ridge. With any luck, he’d be able to get his bearings from there, rather than struggling over the landscape with little sense of direction. He had to concentrate, to act on his survival skills and cunning, if he was going to survive the next few hours and complete his mission.
He paused, plunged his hand into his pocket, and pulled out a cell phone. Holding it up, he spun round trying to get a single bar of signal to appear at the top of the screen.
‘Come on ,’ he urged, before turning in a different direction and trying again.
He had to warn them, to tell them he’d failed, that what they had been so desperately trying to prevent was happening, now .
A strangled curse of frustration escaped his lips. Either the incoming electrical storm had scrambled the signal, or the emergency services were receiving so many calls from people living in the valley that the service was overloaded.
In any event, he wasn’t going to be making a phone call any time soon.
He swore under his breath. Everything about the plan had turned to shit. He’d spent six months setting it up, but his plan hadn’t factored in the possibility that he’d be stabbed trying to prevent a catastrophe from taking place, or that a drought-breaking storm would descend on the valley, sending his target into a panic.
He snorted at the irony, began to put the phone back in his pocket, and then shouted in alarm as the ground gave way under his feet.
He lashed out with his arms and legs to slow his descent, swore as the branch of a tree sapling whipped his cheek, and then slid to a halt, breathing hard.
The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He lay still for a moment, letting the rain wash the blood from his torn face and hands while he caught his breath, before he hauled himself up into a crouching position. He strained his ears to hear above the pounding of the rain, trying to get his bearings.
His hand moved to his pocket, and he closed his eyes as he realized what had happened.
He’d lost the phone.
He raised his eyes to the tracks of his fall and searched the undergrowth, moving swiftly, left to right across the path of destruction his body had made as he’d fallen.
Nothing .
He clasped his hands over his head and pivoted in a circle, cursing.
He glanced over his shoulder. The top of the ridge was now even further away from him, the tracks of his fall evident in the next blinding flash of lightning that swept across the darkening sky and illuminated the stark landscape. He couldn’t afford to waste time. If the phone was gone, then he had to escape. It was the only way.
An engine revved, its throaty roar filling the air.
He spun round, searching in all directions, trying to pinpoint his pursuers.
The hillside exploded with light as headlight beams criss-crossed the ground in front of him. Spotlights swept the mist, seeking him out.
They’d split up, trying to catch him in a classic pincer movement.
He turned and ran.
Behind him, he heard a shout, and then the vehicle changed gear and began its pursuit.
He weaved across the rugged hillside, grabbing tree branches and exposed rocks to work his way higher, away from the vehicle.
His leg muscles aching from the swift ascent, he sucked in air as he reached the summit.
He hauled himself over the edge, and saw the lights of the small town in the distance where, only three days ago, he’d ventured into the camping store for supplies. Through the gloom, the sickly orange glow of halogen streetlights bobbed in and out of view between swaying trees as the prevailing wind lashed the surrounding countryside.
He groaned – it was too far.
He checked over his shoulder.
Below, the pursuit vehicle steadily moved across the ridge, gaining on him, the whine of its engine carrying over the wind as it climbed towards him, and then stalled.
Kyle turned his attention back to the valley below. He was running out of time. He could only hope that John had made it to the highway, and that the creek hadn’t burst its banks before he’d made it into town.
He squinted at the road leading from the town up to the ridge, where it joined the main highway. No traffic moved except for a single headlight beam, and he frowned, wondering if the run-off from the surrounding water catchment had already burst the creek’s banks and blocked the road.
A faint light towards the bottom of the ridge caught his eye, and he shielded his eyes from the rain and squinted. In the next flash of lightning that shot across the valley he saw a low-set building with some sort of canopy at the front.
He wracked his memory until he remembered a run-down truck stop, a ‘for sale’ sign across its front window.
Adrenaline surged through his body as he realized he’d have to make a run for it and pray the building still had a working telephone.
The tree trunk next to him exploded a split second before he heard the gunshot reverberate in his ears.
He threw himself to the ground and began to crawl away on his elbows and knees, keeping his head down.
The vehicle’s engine roared to life again, the headlights seeking him out. He scrambled up and slid down the ridge towards the valley, ducking behind trees and boulders.
He tripped and curled up as he fell, gritting his teeth as sharp stones dug into his back before he slowed to a stop. He eased himself up onto all fours and lifted his head.
The vehicle crested the ridge above him before it braked to