Courage Dares by Nancy Radke Read Free Book Online Page B

like she did it."
    "Her? How do you figure—"
    "Simple. Her neighbor broke down the door and she knifed him. Wash that in the kitchen sink and find a knife that matches blade lengths."
    "Got it. They'll think she ran."
    "Right. They won't be looking for us."
    Ira retrieved a slender carving knife from her kitchen and used a towel to carry it by the blade. He smeared it with her neighbor's blood and laid it beside the body.
    Her prints would be on that handle. How horrible, if she escaped from Judd and found herself facing a murder charge.
    But Judd's prints would be on the drinking glass he had used. She focused on that. The police would know that he had been here.
    "We've got to move. Where's your stuff?" Judd asked.
    "My stuff?" She looked at him blankly, unable to recall what he was talking about.
    "Your supplies. Where are they?"
    "Oh. In my closet. My bedroom." She pointed.
    "Okay."
    He turned and walked through the open door and Mary followed, willing her mind to work again. "This it?" he asked, looking at the equipment stored overhead.
    "Almost. There are boots and snowshoes down below, and woolens in the cedar chest. We'll need cardboard boxes to pack things in. There are some in my outside storage locker, down by my car."
    "Wes, give me a hand. Try not to touch anything we're not taking."
    The men yanked things out haphazardly, while Mary opened her suitcase to pack. Connor had packed for her, she noticed, a touch of tenderness floating across her as she examined his choices. She didn’t want these things with her. Not now. She placed the outer garments back in the drawers and pulled out the clothes she wore for search and rescue work. Slowly she moved her shaking hands over the fabric. The familiar action of folding and smoothing helped steady her.
    "I'll show you where the boxes are," she offered, knowing they were under a pile of books and furniture she had brought over from her father's house.
    "Don't bother," Judd snapped, throwing aside the comforter on her bed. "Wes, take the boots and snowshoes down to the van, then come back. Throw everything else on the bed. Hurry."
    Mary watched helplessly as Judd used her top sheet to wrap everything into one bundle. "I have to use the bathroom first," she said, in one last attempt to slow them down.
    "Later," Judd said. "Get your purse, though, so it looks like you left on your own."
    Mary walked over to where she kept her purse, remembering that it had writing materials inside. Perhaps she could leave a note.
    Except for the ivory dragon, the top of her dresser was bare. No purse. "It's not here," she said, bewildered, glancing around her bedroom. She always put things back in the same spot. Always. Important things, at least.
    "Quit trying to stall."
    "I'm not," she denied, picking up the pendant and dropping it over her head. "This is where I usually keep my purse." She must’ve been so upset when she entered the apartment, she had omitted putting it back in its place.
    She closed her eyes trying to visualize where it was. "The other room. I must’ve left it—"
    "Let's go then."
    Connor's head was up when she re-entered, the fire back in his eyes. She met his gaze and tried to smile in reassurance, but she felt so tense she could barely grimace. His face was even more battered than when she had first seen him, but the sight didn’t frighten her. Instead it gave her comfort and hope. He was a source of strength. He was alive.
    No longer was Connor the enemy, the unknown threat. The instant Judd had forced his way into her home, her mind had flown to Connor and anchored there, desperately clinging to him. When Wes had first gone into the bedroom, she had been terrified he would kill Connor. Then Connor walked out. Her relief over-rode her regret that he hadn't been able to escape.
    They were in this together. As long as Connor stayed alive, she could.
    "My purse," she said to him. "Have you seen it?"
    "No."
    Mary moved around the room, hunting. The cold air from