NOT LIKE US
n o t l i k e u s
(an ilse beck fbi suspense thriller—book 1)
a v a s t r o n g
Ava Strong
Debut author Ava Strong is author of the REMI LAURENT mystery series, comprising three books (and counting); of the ILSE BECK mystery series, comprising four books (and counting); and of the STELLA FALL psychological suspense thriller series, comprising three books (and counting).
An avid reader and lifelong fan of the mystery and thriller genres, Ava loves to hear from you, so please feel free to visit www.avastrongauthor.com to learn more and stay in touch.
Copyright © 2021 by Ava Strong. All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the author. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Jacket image Copyright Joe Prachatree, used under license from Shutterstock.com.
BOOKS BY AVA STRONG
REMI LAURENT FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER
THE DEATH CODE (Book #1)
THE MURDER CODE (Book #2)
THE MALICE CODE (Book #3)
ILSE BECK FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER
NOT LIKE US (Book #1)
NOT LIKE HE SEEMED (Book #2)
NOT LIKE YESTERDAY (Book #3)
NOT LIKE THIS (Book #4)
STELLA FALL PSYCHOLOGICAL SUSPENSE THRILLER
HIS OTHER WIFE (Book #1)
HIS OTHER LIE (Book #2)
HIS OTHER SECRET (Book #3)
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 ONE
Her thumb wavered above the tarmac, the tips of her sneakers brushing the white line painted on the edge of the meandering highway. Sarah Beth frowned beneath the night as another car swished by, kicking up dust and prompting a crackling flurry of leaves against the concrete barrier behind her.
She muttered darkly, keeping her hand up in the night, but raising a different finger now in the direction of the speeding sedan.
Once the car was out of sight, she lowered her hand, shivering where she stood on the side of the road just outside Seattle. The surroundings of the city were normally bathed in mist, even during the day, but now, under the cover of darkness and cloud, the only illumination came from the highway lights spread at fifty-foot intervals, and the occasional headlights of passing vehicles, though those were rare enough too.
Sarah Beth shifted one shoulder, feeling a crick in her neck and wincing, rubbing at her upper arm and lowering her backpack to the ground.
Fifteen cars now… Fifteen cars had ignored her.
She sighed. The average was twenty-two. She’d taken to counting ever since she’d fled the group home four years ago. They’d said she’d get herself hurt, trying to live on her own. They’d said she wouldn’t make it a week.
Well, now, four years later, having turned twenty-one last month, she’d proven them all wrong. A life on the move, on the road, in box cars, or beneath underpasses, using gym showers or working for room and board wasn’t most people’s version of the American Dream. But Sarah Beth was free. More free than anyone she knew. A few uncomfortable nights, sleeping in a Walmart parking lot or tidying up in a Planet Fitness bathroom, was a small price to pay for freedom.
When it came to such things, though, it was always a bit of a balancing act. How much makeup to wear? How clean to look? On one hand, if she was too groomed and prettied up, often the entirely wrong sorts would stop to give her a ride. Though she had a gut feeling for these types of men.
On the other hand, if she abandoned grooming standards entirely, then no one would want her in their car.
Sarah Beth reached up and brushed her curly brown hair back behind her ears, while practicing her smile. She’d been told more than once that she had a very pretty smile.
She glanced back down the highway, her shoulder still aching, a soft chill falling over her. She shuffled a bit on the side of the road, her left leg prompting a wince as she readjusted her weight and half-limped into a more comfortable standing position.
She saw the truck before she heard it.
First, bright headlights, too far off the ground to come from a sedan. A second later, as the truck dipped over the road, the lights lowering, she spotted the large blue cab and the flatbed behind it.
Hastily, she brushed her hair back again, this time risking a full-toothed smile—like someone in the theater overacting for the sake of the audience in the back of the room—and jutted her thumb up. She leaned in just a bit, toeing the white line now and staring into the glare of the approaching headlights.
Her stomach twisted and her smile began to flicker as the truck showed no signs of slowing down. On it came, faster, faster…
Then, a screech of brakes.
The lights dimmed and the large vehicle came to a jarring stop only a few paces ahead of Sarah Beth. She swallowed, staring at where the vehicle had gone still.
A hand waved through the open window, gesturing at her. No sound, no words, just a single flick of the wrist.
Sarah Beth leaned forward, peering up at the face in the cab. “You going to Seattle?” she called out.
Again, no audible response. Just a quick flash of a thumbs-up and another gesture of a beckoning hand, like a flapping bird beneath the glow of the moon.
Sarah Beth hesitated, staring up at the truck and swallowing. A second later, the flapping hand disappeared back into the truck and then a single yellow Post-it note fluttered to the ground, tossed from the window.
Sarah Beth frowned even deeper now. She leaned down hesitantly, eyes firmly on the truck, but fingers scrambling for the note.
She hadn’t heard any scribbling, and in fact, the letters on the note were written in pen, as if perhaps the note had been written before. Was the driver mute?
Sarah Beth held up the note and read, simply: Hop in! followed by a little smiley face. Sarah Beth looked up uneasily, holding the note between her fingertips which now made a crinkling sound similar to the leaves against the concrete barrier. The cold was oppressive, and it was only getting darker.
The roads were more abandoned than she’d first imagined.
Besides, the trucker was smiling now, too, flashing a friendly look from inside the driver’s side. Not mute, but maybe a bit dumb? Sarah Beth could deal with dumb. In fact, she preferred it. People who thought too much gave her anxiety.
“Thanks,” she said, nodding and crumpling the note before placing it back in her pocket. “Honestly, anywhere in the city will do.”
She stepped up to the passenger side and slid into the front seat. She kept her backpack at her feet, just in case she needed to beat a hasty retreat.
“I’m Sarah Beth,” she said, not expecting a reply now. “Nice to meet you! Thanks much. You really saved me there.”
The driver was still smiling beneath a hat with a low brim, shadows across his features. The truck was surprisingly clean, and smelled faintly of air freshener.
For some reason this caused Sarah Beth to relax a bit, her head brushing against the headrest now as the truck churned back to life and began to eat up the gravel road once more. The headlights remained dim as they picked up speed, moving along the highway, heading toward the city.
The driver didn’t talk, didn’t make moves, didn’t try to solicit anything—financial, physical, or otherwise. As far as hitchhiking went, it was starting to look pleasant.
Sarah Beth shot a sidelong glance at her temporary chauffeur. She frowned a second later, noticing a thin trail of scar tissue around the fellow’s wrist, just beneath his jacket sleeve.
“You okay, mister?” she asked.
Another thumbs-up. She wondered if perhaps the scar tissue made its way up to the man’s neck. Perhaps he couldn’t speak at all. She shivered at the thought, feeling a jolt of sympathy as the truck bumped along the old road. She glanced out into the night once more, watching the passing trees. Every so often, she’d surreptitiously use the mirrors to keep an eye on her would-be rescuer.
A girl could never be too careful in the lonely Northwest.
As she considered this, the truck jarred suddenly, taking a turn onto an access road beneath a bright yellow sign.
“Hey, mister,” she said, her brow furrowed. “That’s not the turn.”
The driver didn’t reply, sitting like an automaton, glued to the wheel, eyes fixed ahead.
“Mister,” Sarah Beth said, louder now. “Please, hey—where are we going?”
Now she had the good sense to feel a sudden jolt of fright shooting through her. The access road gave way to a long-dead farm field. The dust and mud kicked up around them as the tires bumped and jounced, carrying the occupants of the truck quickly away from the highway.
Sarah Beth’s heart raced; she edged against the door, distancing herself from the driver. “Mister!” she said. “Where are we going?”
The driver continued ignoring her, and—if anything—now picked up the pace along the old farm road across from the dead field. Beneath the darkening sky, the barren ground and turned dirt against a gray landscape almost seemed like a giant, fresh grave.
“Hey!” Sarah Beth protested now, all attempts at manners fleeing in the face of a surge of fear. “Let me out! I mean it—let me out now!” Her fingers scrambled against the door handle, even though they were still moving.
But it wouldn’t open. She yanked at the thing, her fingers grazing cool metal, her knuckles against rough plastic. The door handle moved, but the door remained shut.
“Let me out!” she screamed now. She tried to roll down the window. Also locked.
Suddenly, the truck began to slow with the same jolting, scraping sound as it had on the highway. Dust kicked up in a cloud all around them.
The driver stopped, and Sarah Beth yelled as his hand reached toward her. A hand wearing a thick workman’s glove. But it didn’t strike her, nor did it seem to hold a weapon. Rather, now, as the dust settled about them outside the old dead field, the driver handed her another sticky note.
She stared, breathing heavily. “I don’t know what you’re playing at—” she began, her voice shaking.
But the gloved hand just pushed the sticky note toward her more insistently.
Sarah Beth accepted it with trembling fingers if only to have something to do. She glanced down, breathing heavily, though still keeping the driver in her line of sight. Why had he taken her off the road? What were they doing back here? Nothing good—no doubt. Nothing good ever came of things like this. She’d heard stories… horrible stories.
Still, she read the note. And her heart fell into her stomach. Three sentences, though it took her a moment to make them out in the dark. As if sensing her difficulty, the driver reached up and flicked on the cabin light.
Sarah Beth read:
Run. I’ll give you a ten-second head start. Then I’m going to slit your throat.
Her heart felt like it went still for a moment. Another little smiley face was drawn on top of the note, like the other one. Again, she hadn’t seen the driver write anything, suggesting, perhaps, he’d prepared the notes.
Run.
Her hand still shaking, she looked up and out the front windshield, her eyes as wide as saucers, refusing to glance toward the driver now. No sense encouraging him.
“I—please,” she said, blubbering. “Please.”
Then she heard the driver’s voice for the first time. A low, husky, painful-sounding voice. “One… Two…”
The locks clicked.
“Mister, please!” Sarah Beth pleaded. “Just let me go! I won’t tell anyone—honest! Please!”
“Three… Four…”
She cursed, reaching for the handle, grabbing her backpack. The door, to her relief, clicked open. Then, stumbling, gasping, Sarah Beth landed on uneven, muddy ground. She began to sprint, racing off the road, away from the truck.
Then I’ll slit your throat.
She shivered. A head start. Whatever sick game this twist was playing, she had a head start. Couldn’t stay on the road, though. If she did, the psycho would just run her over. Off the road. Through the trees. Go! Go!
Sarah Beth’s heart hammered, pounding wildly.
“Ten!” the voice shouted behind her, clearer, less raspy than before. Almost as if it were excited.
Sarah Beth stumbled through the first row of trees bordering the farmer’s field. She tripped over a root but kept going, moving in the dark, trying to navigate undergrowth and low-hanging branches in the sheer black, with no lights to speak of save the faint glow from the truck’s headlights behind her.
Then, a clicking sound. The lights turned off.
She heard a thump of the truck’s door, followed by the rapid footfalls of pursuit.
Her adrenaline surged wildly. Gasping, sobbing, she ricocheted off a tree with a painful thump.
“Please!” she sobbed. “Please!” But there was no one to hear her scream. Her sounds were likely only aiding the driver in tracking her down.
She stumbled through the dark, her shoulder brushing against rough bark, her head glancing off a bending bough. Sharp, jagged branches scraped at her cheeks. Her fingers felt numb where they gripped the strap to her backpack.
She paused for a moment, breathing heavily, trying to plot her path through a nearly invisible undergrowth in the dark.
Behind her, the sound of pursuit had faded.
Sarah Beth exhaled softly, glancing one way then the other… No sign. No light at all. She could barely see her fingers in front of her face.
Which direction had she come from? Where was the truck? Maybe, if she doubled back…
Yes. She might be able to get to the vehicle and run away. At least she’d know the path back to the highway.