Praise for
HANNAH ALEXANDER’s
Hideaway Novels
DOUBLE BLIND
“Native American culture clashes with Christian principles in the freshly original plot.”
— Romantic Times BOOKreviews
GRAVE RISK
“The latest in Alexander’s Hideaway series is filled with mystery and intrigue. Readers familiar with the series will appreciate how the author keeps the characters fresh and appealing.”
— Romantic Times BOOKreviews
FAIR WARNING
“The plot is interesting and the resolution filled with action.”
— Romantic Times BOOKreviews
LAST RESORT
“The third novel in Alexander’s Hideaway romantic suspense series (after the Christy Award–winning Hideaway and Safe Haven ) is a gripping tale with sympathetic characters that will draw readers into its web. The kidnapped Clarissa’s inner dialogue may remind some of Alice Sebold’s The Lovely Bones. ”
— Library Journal
SAFE HAVEN
“ Safe Haven has an excellent plot. I was hooked from the first page and felt like I was riding a roller coaster until the last. Ms. Alexander’s three protagonists kept my adrenaline racing. But Fawn stole the show—who could resist a sixteen-year-old running for her life? This writer is a crowd pleaser.”
— Rendezvous
HIDEAWAY
“Genuine humor and an interesting cast of characters keep the story perking along…and there are a few surprises…an enjoyable read.”
— Publishers Weekly
A Killing Frost
Hannah Alexander
In loving memory of Don (Teddy) Keebaugh,
a hero in our hometown, whose spirit will live on
through the lives of all the students he inspired.
Acknowledgments
This is an exciting time as we leave Hideaway behind and begin a new series in a new town, new location, new characters. We have received nothing but encouragement from our editor, Joan Marlow Golan, and the talented people who work with her: Krista Stroever, Lee Quarfoot, Megan Lorius, Sarah McDaniel, Maureen Stead, Amy Jones and Diane Mosher. From editing the inside to covering the outside of our novels, we have received top-notch care and professionalism. What an amazing team!
Thanks to our agent, Karen Solem, for her constant challenge for us to dig more deeply.
Thanks to the friends who helped us brainstorm this book on a cold January morning: Colleen and Dave Coble, Nancy Moser, Judy Miller, Rene Gutteridge, Deborah Raney, Doris Elaine Fell, Dan and Steph Higgins (Stephanie Grace Whitson to her many adoring readers).
Thanks to Mom, Lorene Cook, for her constant love, prayers, encouragement and endless promotion for our books.
Thanks to Mother, Vera Overall, whose love for her son and pride in his accomplishments is never-ending.
Thanks to Tim Puchta, of Puchta Winery in Hermann, Missouri, who was a great help to us as we researched last year’s killing frost in wine country along the Missouri River. Any mistakes in this book are not his fault. He’s the expert. We’re simply enthusiasts.
As always, our deepest appreciation goes to God, who has placed the blessing of stories in our lives.
Contents
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
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter One
D oriann Streeter had never been kidnapped before, but if she’d ever tried to imagine what it might be like—which she hadn’t—she’d have been wrong. She would’ve expected to be brave, but right now she couldn’t stop shaking. If she weren’t trying so hard just to breathe, she’d be surprised that she’d never expected anything like this, because she had a good imagination.
Her hands shook as she clenched them in her lap.
What had she done wrong? Why was she stuck inside a stinking, rattly old pickup truck between two dirty people with black beneath their fingernails, who reeked so badly she thought she might puke?
And what if she did puke? It could happen.
She dared a glance at the dirty man’s pocket. It was where he’d stuck her cell phone when it rang. He’d grabbed it, turned it off, shoved it into his pocket with an ugly chuckle, nearly driving the truck into the ditch when he forgot to watch the road.
Some things just never occurred to a girl.
The call had to have been Mom checking up on her. Or Aunt Renee. Please, God, make them worry when I don’t answer. Please!
They knew she always answered her calls, even when she was up to something