Mountain Investigation by Jessica Andersen Page A

didn’t move, except to give a metallic rattle, adding weight to her suspicion that she was strapped to a gurney that’d been locked into place in a coroner’s van. Lee would’ve liked the convenience, as well as the psychological torture, of her waking up inside her own shroud.
    Bastard, Mariah thought, fanning the anger and hatred because both were better than fear.
    Then she heard muffled footsteps approaching the rear of the vehicle, and the fear took over. She whimpered involuntarily behind the gag, hoping against hope that the footsteps belonged to a savior but knowing deep down inside that they didn’t.
    The door locks popped and she heard a door open. A man’s voice asked, “Did anyone see you take her?”
    It was Lee.
    Sick dread rolled through Mariah in waves at the sound of her ex’s too-familiar tones, draining her resolve in an instant.
    “No.” The second voice, coming from very closeto her, was thick with emotion. She thought it was the cop from her room and became sure of it when he said, “I did what I was told. You said you’d tell me where my wife—”
    “Help me switch her to the other car,” Lee interrupted. “Someone will call and tell you where to find your family.”
    That explained the abduction, Mariah thought, her heart clutching for the cop. The terrorists had gotten to the officer, using the best leverage of all. Family.
    A slice of despair suddenly surfaced as Mariah inwardly acknowledged that she might never see her parents again, that she should have tried to fix that relationship when she’d had the chance. She hadn’t understood why they’d needed to move away any more than they’d understood why she needed to stay. That, combined with Mariah’s awful guilt over knowing she’d brought Lee into their lives only to have him destroy her father’s career and self-respect, had driven a wedge into their already estranged family unit.
    She should’ve apologized a thousand times over, should’ve done more to help them start over. Instead, she’d walled herself away in her isolated cabin.
    Mariah felt sick, then even sicker still when the men climbed into the back of the van with her. The vehicle shuddered under their weight. Moments later, she felt the men approach her and pause. She held herself still, trapped and terrified.
    An unzipping noise reverberated through the dark space that enclosed her, and suddenly there was light again, she could see again. But that wasn’t a relief,because what she saw was Lee’s face as he bent over her, wrinkling his nose at the smell coming from the bag’s lining. His beautiful blue eyes were lit with unholy satisfaction and excitement.
    “Hello, Mariah,” he said, his voice sounding as cultured and urbane as ever, his whole demeanor giving no evidence that he was talking to a woman bound in a body bag. “This shouldn’t take long at all. A short drive, a little session with al-Jihad where you’ll tell us what we want to know, and after that…well, we’ll see what happens after that, won’t we, sweetheart?”
    The Feds had said Lee was a follower, with the undercover agent, Fairfax, even going as far as to call him a lemming, a weak personality who chased the leader. But they didn’t know him the way Mariah did. When it came to his wife—or the woman he perceived as still being his wife despite the paperwork that said otherwise—Lee was no follower. He went his own way, and didn’t give a damn what anyone else said, least of all her.
    She’d married him thinking she was in love. But she’d found herself in hell. And now he was going to do everything in his power to put her right back there, or worse.
    Heart pounding with fear and rage, Mariah narrowed her eyes, not caring that tears leaked from their corners as she screamed against her gag, telling him how much she hated him, and that she wasn’t afraid of him, not anymore. She struggled against the straps, wanting to rake her nails across his lying face, needing to do