When
researcher, Grace Talbot, and her team discover a possible solution for
weight loss, they become targets of a group dedicated to controlling
the multi-billion dollar a year diet-product industry. Her unsanctioned
testing methods bring tragedy to the family ranch, and the attention of
the local sheriff’s deputy. With her colleagues dead, missing, and on
the run, she soon realizes she must trust the deputy with her life, but
can she trust him with her heart?
EXCERPT
Copyright 2015 © Kim McMahill
The
unmistakable haze of smoke filled the valley below. Snow covered the
ground and weighed heavily on the pine boughs lining the highway, ruling
out a forest fire as the source of the dark billows. The old rancher
rolled down his window, despite the bitter cold, and inhaled deeply. The
air smelled of fire, destruction, and death.
With the last switchback navigated, he
shifted up and pressed the accelerator down as far as he dared while
driving on icy roads. He tried not to let his imagination get the best
of him, but couldn’t help but fear the worst. Someone, maybe even him,
was suffering a loss.
As he approached the turnoff to his
ranch, he realized immediately the nightmare was indeed his. Gunning the
one-ton’s motor, he churned down the snow-covered dirt lane at such a
rate of speed he didn’t even notice the fresh set of tire tracks cutting
through the white powder—new tracks, since he’d left for town just
hours before.
The large truck skidded to a stop. The
rancher leapt out and raced toward the burning building, praying there
were no animals inside. The real terror came as he realized his ranch
manager was nowhere in sight. Hoses remained coiled up, hanging on a
fence post, not connected to the spigot, as would be expected if anyone
were attempting to control the blaze.
Flames
and smoke poured out of the second-story loft, sucking the oxygen out
of the air as he approached the now fully engulfed building. Grasping
the handle on one of the barn doors, he yanked back with all his might.
It didn’t budge. He could hear the crashing of timbers collapsing onto
the floor and the crackling and popping of fire eating away the interior
of the building. Throwing his shoulder into the solid wood, he could
feel the intense heat through the door and his heavy winter coat.
Still nothing.
The
situation made no sense. The large double doors had no lock and could,
in fact, swing inward or outward. Glancing at the ranch manager’s house,
he prayed his longtime friend and employee was sleeping through the
chaos, but he knew better. If the startled cry of hens harassed by
raccoons in the middle of the night could stir him, the fire would have
drawn him out instantly.
Yelling
at the top of his lungs, the old man got no response but inhaled a
choking dose of smoke in the process. He doubled over as he tried to
expel the smoke from his lungs and gather his strength. His eyes burned
and his lungs ached as he backed up, giving himself a running start. He
threw his body against the door, but the strong timbers held fast. After
several more attempts to break through, he realized the futility in his
efforts. As the heat, flames, and smoke intensified, he knew he had to
act quickly. If anyone were inside, it might already be too late.
He
ran toward the row of small windows on the side of the barn which
allowed light into the stables. Each pane was high enough to prevent a
horse from breaking the glass, and too small for an adult to crawl
through. Sliding a metal five-gallon bucket close, he hoped to elevate
himself enough to see if anyone was inside. The instant he got one foot
on the bucket, the windows blew out, showering him with glass shards,
burning his flesh and throwing him to the ground hard.
He
rolled across the snow to extinguish the flames, which burned through
his coat. He ignored the searing pain on every piece of exposed flesh.
He struggled to his feet, grasping for a plan. Get the truck. Nothing can stop that beast. It will break through those doors, he thought as he turned away from the building.
Then everything went black.
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