Let me live, p.1
Let Me Live, page 1
L E T M E L I V E
(An Ashley Hope Suspense Thriller—Book 3)
K a t e B o l d
Kate Bold
Bestselling author Kate Bold is author of the ALEXA CHASE SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising six books (and counting); the ASHLEY HOPE SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising six books (and counting); the CAMILLE GRACE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising five books (and counting); and the HARLEY COLE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising three books (and counting).
An avid reader and lifelong fan of the mystery and thriller genres, Kate loves to hear from you, so please feel free to visit www.kateboldauthor.com to learn more and stay in touch.
Copyright © 2022 by Kate Bold. All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the author. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Jacket image Copyright rangizzz, used under license from Shutterstock.com.
BOOKS BY KATE BOLD
ALEXA CHASE SUSPENSE THRILLER
THE KILLING GAME (Book #1)
THE KILLING TIDE (Book #2)
THE KILLING HOUR (Book #3)
THE KILLING POINT (Book #4)
THE KILLING FOG (Book #5)
THE KILLING PLACE (Book #6)
ASHLEY HOPE SUSPENSE THRILLER
LET ME GO (Book #1)
LET ME OUT (Book #2)
LET ME LIVE (Book #3)
LET ME BREATHE (Book #4)
LET ME FORGET (Book #5)
LET ME ESCAPE (Book #6)
CAMILLE GRACE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER
NOT ME (Book #1)
NOT NOW (Book #2)
NOT WELL (Book #3)
NOT HER (Book #4)
NOT NORMAL (Book #5)
HARLEY COLE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER
NOWHERE SAFE (Book #1)
NOWHERE LEFT (Book #2)
NOWHERE TO RUN (Book #3)
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY ONE
PROLOGUE
Megan Archer struggled to open her eyes, her lids feeling heavy as iron.
Darkness encompassed her like a death shroud.
She blinked once, then twice, in an effort to clear her vision. To discern a shape. To see something – anything. Still the inky blackness pressed against her, refusing to reveal her surroundings.
Where am I?
Pain shot through her left temple as she attempted to lift her head. A wave of nausea hit her and the taste of bile rose in her throat. She swallowed hard – needed to cough – but she couldn’t open her mouth. Duct tape covered her face just below her nostrils, winding tight around her cheeks and the back of her neck, trapping several strands of her curly, blonde hair. The adhesive binding had been wrapped in a series of loops around her head, extending all the way underneath her chin.
Fear gripped Megan’s heart as she realized her wrists and ankles were bound by duct tape as well.
Twisting her right hand, she fought to break free of her restraints. But each movement sparked a flash of pain in her skull. And she soon realized her struggles were of no use. Several layers of tape encircled her arms. The grip too snug to slip her hands out. The material too strong to tear.
The chill from the concrete floor below her had seeped through her leather trench coat, settling into her bones. But the texture beneath her fingertips suggested there was something between her body and the concrete.
A layer of plastic?
A pungent chemical odor hung in the dank air, almost stealing her breath. She shuddered as another bout of nausea rippled through her stomach.
How did I get here?
A heavy fog filled her brain, clouding her thoughts. She labored to piece together her last memories. To determine what had led her to this horrible fate.
Molly.
Yes, that was right.
Megan had been on her way to rescue her younger sister – again. Molly had fought with her boyfriend, and this time, he’d kicked her out of his apartment. She’d called from Murfreesboro, Tennessee, in the middle of the night, stating she had no money, no automobile, and nowhere to stay. Of course, Megan had agreed to help – the way she always had whenever her sister’s life took a U-turn. An event which had occurred on a frequent basis throughout the past two years.
Megan had left Knoxville around ten this morning. At least, she thought it had been this morning. How long had she been unconscious? How many hours had passed?
A noise caught her attention. It sounded as though it was coming from above her. Was she trapped in a basement? She strained her ears, listening.
Muffled voices echoed from the ceiling.
Megan screamed, her cry muted by the duct tape. She forced her tongue between her lips, trying to unseal the adhesive. She cried out a second time, but again, her shout was too weak to be heard.
Tears of frustration sprang to her eyes.
Above, one of the voices grew louder. A man’s voice.
A voice she knew.
A slideshow of memories flooded her mind. She’d been driving along a narrow highway – a shortcut from the main road that would shave at least thirty minutes off of her trip. The motivational words of Cecilia Nettle – one of the top real estate agents in the nation – had boomed from her SUV’s speakers. Megan had been concentrating on the instructions for Overcoming Listing Obstacles when billows of steam had exploded from her vehicle’s hood.
Worried she’d inflict even more damage on her SUV’s engine if she tried to drive any further, she’d pulled onto the shoulder of the road. She’d grabbed her phone, intent on calling her husband. But then she’d glanced in her rearview mirror.
It was him.
The voice above her.
When he’d first hopped out of his vehicle, she’d been relieved to see a familiar face. Had thought the man she’d met earlier was there to help. But as she’d swung down from the driver’s seat of her SUV to greet him, she’d realized something had changed.
He had changed.
His eyes – once feigning kindness – appeared dark and cold. Instead of the pleasant nature he’d displayed before, a distinct hostility seemed to radiate from his soul.
He’d grabbed her wrist. Terrified, she’d jerked her arm, trying to break free. But then she’d caught a swift flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye. Pain had sliced through the side of her skull. He’d hit her with something made of metal. Something heavy. That’s where her memories ended.
And now, she was here.
The voices above her faded. She realized the other person she’d heard might be the man’s partner. But why had they kidnapped her? For ransom? Money seemed the most plausible answer. The man had met a woman traveling alone, driving a brand new luxury SUV. Megan wore designer clothes, carried a purse that retailed for over five grand. Yes, the kidnappers most likely wanted cash, thinking she would make an easy mark. And she had.
She wondered whether the man had already contacted her husband, Jay. Whether they’d made a deal. She felt certain he would pay whatever sum the kidnappers had demanded.
The squeal of metal scraping concrete split the air above her. A broad shaft of light cut through the blanket of darkness, stinging her eyes. This wasn’t a basement. It was a filthy pit. As she’d suspected, a layer of plastic topped the floor beneath her. It appeared to be a shower curtain.
Footsteps clinked down the treads of the aluminum ladder propped against the far wall.
“’Bout time you woke up,” the man said, his tone gruff.
A chill ran down her spine as his gaze locke d on hers.
“You been out a while. I was starting to worry.”
His lips curved into a wicked smile. “You see, it just ain’t as much fun when the prey’s asleep.”
Terror sliced through Megan’s heart.
She realized this wasn’t about money. This was something far worse.
The man flexed his hand and she caught the glint of silver metal. A large tool. She had no idea what kind. But it was probably the same thing he’d struck her with earlier, when he’d knocked her unconscious.
“We’re gonna have a good time, you and me.”
The man laughed, the guttural sound bouncing off the walls of the cramped space.
“Yes, ma’am. I’m gonna teach you some respect.”
Megan’s pulse quickened as he inched toward her.
Hatred radiated from his narrow eyes.
“Let’s start with your knees.”
No! Please, no!
Silent tears streamed down her face.
As he raised the tool above his head, Megan pressed her eyes closed, bracing herself for the jolt of pain that would follow.
CHAPTER ONE
It was arson.
Ashley Hope’s heart sank as she crossed the threshold into the fire-damaged waiting room at her family’s automotive repair shop. The acrid scent of smoke lingered in the air, stinging her throat. Black soot coated the concrete block walls that – just a few years prior – she had helped paint a creamy beige. The bare metal frames of the formerly vinyl-upholstered chairs reminded her of skeletons in a tomb. And the sight of the shattered front windows and glass door – now covered by plywood – chilled her to her core.
Sloshing through puddles of water left behind by the Mettler Ridge Fire Department’s dousing of the flames, she maneuvered her way past the charred remnants of a pair of vending machines toward the pile of ash where the check-in counter had once stood. The location where the fire had begun.
Although the investigation was still ongoing, according to the fire chief’s initial observations, the blaze had erupted inside a trash can filled with oily rags. Her father and Uncle Russ had invested over twenty-five years, building the business from the ground up in their economically-challenged hometown on Tennessee’s Cumberland Plateau. Her family members were well aware of the dangers of storing combustible materials. They would never risk throwing dirty shop rags into a garbage can. Ashley knew the fire wasn’t an accident.
It was set on purpose.
She jumped as the door leading to the garage bays pushed open behind her. Her older brother, Kyle, met her gaze, his expression grim. Although the room felt cool, sweat had plastered his wheat-blonde hair to his scalp like a helmet. Since their father’s retirement – the result of a recent heart attack – her brother had taken over the management of the shop while still maintaining his lead mechanic duties. She could tell the long working hours had taken their toll. And now he had to deal with the fire damage.
“I’m the one who brought this vendetta onto the family, Kyle, and I’m really sorry,” she said, her eyes welling with tears.
Ashley felt certain the fire was payback. Working as a consultant, she’d joined forces with the Tennessee Bureau of Investigations in their pursuit of a serial killer. The man had been a local – a deputy with the Laurel County Sheriff’s department. When he realized he was trapped, Troy Luckadoo had brandished a hunting knife, intending to plunge the blade into the heart of his fourth victim.
After her pleas for the deputy to drop his weapon had failed, Ashley was left with only one choice. She’d shot Troy. And now, she believed the deputy’s backwoods relatives had targeted the auto shop in an act of revenge for the man’s death.
A clandestine eye-for-an-eye type practice the Laurel County locals termed mountain justice.
Kyle shook his head.
“You done what was right,” he told her, sincerity evident in his blue eyes. “You should be proud. You saved Beth’s life. And her daddy’s mighty grateful. Weren’t no way he was gonna let the place burn down.”
The father of Troy’s would-be fourth victim, Beth, held the rank of captain at the fire department. He’d been on duty when the call from Hope Automotive Repair had gone out. Thanks to the man’s quick response, and the fact that the fire department was located only a block away, the blaze had been contained to the waiting area.
Ashley sighed.
“I just wish that Uncle Russ shared your opinion,” she stated.
Although the shop had been closed when the fire had started, her uncle’s two sons had been working on a customer’s car in one of the garage bays. They could have been killed. A point that her uncle had stressed several times since the incident, even stating that Ashley should have refused the request to team up with the TBI – that she should have known that her actions would place her own family in jeopardy. The reality that she had saved a woman’s life seemed irrelevant to him.
“It don’t matter what Uncle Russ thinks,” Kyle said. “You did what you had to. Me, Daddy, and Shane know it. And you didn’t go to the police academy for nothing.”
She felt grateful that her father and younger brother, Shane, understood – had supported her along with Kyle – but Ashley hated being the source of friction between her family members.
The fire had been set two days earlier – the day of her graduation from Highland Rim Law Enforcement Academy. Up until now, Uncle Russ had never voiced an opposition to her chosen career. It seemed he didn’t mind her working as a police officer. He just didn’t want her arresting criminals in her own hometown.
As in the days of prohibition when state agents had invaded the mountains searching for moonshine stills, many Laurel County natives viewed law enforcement officials as the enemy. And Uncle Russ feared being on the receiving end of the locals’ hostility. He’d warned her father that even more retaliation could follow.
Ashley worried her uncle might be right.
She clenched her bottom lip between her teeth, wondering if she should tell Kyle her plans.
“I drove over to Briarwood early this morning and put in an application for an apartment,” she finally said.
For the past few months, Ashley had been staying in an old mobile home on the rear corner of her father’s one-hundred-and-fifty-acre property – passed down through the Hope family for generations. Although she loved living on the same plot of land as her father and brothers, she realized it might be best for all of her relatives if she found a place of her own – outside of Laurel County.
“You ain’t no city girl,” Kyle replied, disappointment clear on his face. “I thought you done figured that out by now.”
Ashley had fled her hometown once before – to attend the University of Tennessee in Chattanooga. Just prior to completing her master’s in criminal justice, she’d moved to Briarwood with her wealthy former fiancé. Although her brief time in the Nashville suburb had proved challenging as she’d struggled to fit in to an affluent neighborhood, she felt she hadn’t given the area a real chance.
This time, she’d strike out on her own. Make new friends. Could possibly meet other people who shared a similar modest background. And if she returned to Briarwood – a two-hour drive away – she wouldn’t be present to pose a threat to her family. She hoped the old adage “out of sight, out of mind” would hold true in regards to the feud with Troy’s relatives.
“If everything goes well with my interview tomorrow and I’m offered an agent position with the TBI, I’ll be working out of Briarwood. It just makes more sense for me to live there,” she said, hoping her brother would believe her reasoning was that simple.
Kyle stared at her. He didn’t seem convinced.
“Don’t be leaving on account of the fire,” he said. “Me and Shane know how to handle Troy’s kin.”
Anxiety flooded Ashley’s chest. Kyle’s words fueled her fear of an all-out war between the opposing families. If her brothers retaliated, the situation would continue to escalate.
She grabbed Kyle’s arm.
“I want you to promise me that you and Shane won’t do anything to Troy’s relatives,” she said. “Just let the authorities handle things.”
Ashley realized the investigators would likely not be able to collect enough evidence to obtain an arrest warrant for the arson, but at this point, that didn’t matter. Her only concern was keeping her family safe. She hoped that if her brothers backed off, if they let the matter drop, the feud would be settled.
