Girl in the Storm: An Ella Porter FBI Mystery Thriller Book 2 (Ella Porter FBI Mystery Thrillers) by Georgia Wagner

Girl in the Storm: An Ella Porter FBI Mystery Thriller Book 2 (Ella Porter FBI Mystery Thrillers) by Georgia Wagner

Author:Georgia Wagner [Wagner, Georgia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-12-01T16:00:00+00:00


Chapter 13

Maddie Porter watched the storm come in, hiding in the barn near the small commune. She couldn't feel her feet, and she'd been running for what felt like an hour. She lay back in the sparse straw, breathing plumes at gaps in the poorly insulated, wooden ceiling.

Through the open doors of the barn, she spotted a dark blur of clouds speeding across the horizon, ushered forward by the wind. The howling gales were growing louder, and she shivered every time a new chorus of mountain moaning reached her.

But she couldn't stopper her ears. Not now.

Not when it was still on her trail. She'd seen things moving behind her, chasing her. Carrie was dead. She'd seen the monster land on her friend. Susan was dead, back at camp. Had the others made it?

She had spotted the barn ages ago. She knew that there were inhabited buildings a few miles down the road. Off-gridders. The sort of people who stuck together for survival but wanted nothing to do with the rest of the world.

The barn was used for storage, and, by the smell of it, animals when storms weren't inbound.

She knew she should continue. Only a few more miles. She could get help among the commune. Surely they'd have a phone, wouldn't they?

But the bedding of hay in the loft felt so comfortable against her sore, aching body.

She'd been on the move since this morning. Constant running, hiding. She'd seen two of her friends killed.

“Don't stop,” she whispered to herself. “Don't stop.” She gritted her teeth, trying to will herself to sit up and move again.

Only a few miles to the commune. Only a few more miles...

But a few miles might as well have been a million. Her feet didn't respond. Too cold. She couldn't feel her toes, though she was wiggling them in her boots.

Maddie lay against the straw, her face screwing up. She wanted to cry, but she wanted, even more, to hold back the emotion.

She let out a shuddering breath, every ounce of resolve poured into forcing herself to sit up.

She had to survive. Her dad would die if she didn't. Her father was clinging on to life as his health deteriorated but had come here to Nome for her sake. To give her family and her—in his words—that kind of money.

The money his relatives had. Maddie wasn't as impressed, but she hadn't refused when they'd enrolled her in St. Andrews, plopping her right at the front of the two-year waiting list. What did she care? She spent most of her nights with her father or praying that he might live a few more months.

If she was hurt, though... if she didn't make it back...

It would break his heart. It would kill him as sure as a gunshot.

Then again... if she died first... Would it be so bad?

“Don't stop,” she murmured, growling to herself. In sheer exertion of will, she forced herself into a sitting position, breathing heavily. Her legs dangled over the loft, and she stared across the straw scattered ground.



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