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Back The Last Mile Save as PDF
Chapters (49)
  1. Also by
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright Page
  4. Epigraph
  5. CHAPTER ONE
  6. CHAPTER TWO
  7. CHAPTER THREE
  8. CHAPTER FOUR
  9. CHAPTER FIVE
  10. CHAPTER SIX
  11. CHAPTER SEVEN
  12. CHAPTER EIGHT
  13. CHAPTER NINE
  14. CHAPTER TEN
  15. CHAPTER ELEVEN
  16. CHAPTER TWELVE
  17. CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  18. CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  19. CHAPTER FIFTEEN
  20. CHAPTER SIXTEEN
  21. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
  22. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
  23. CHAPTER NINETEEN
  24. CHAPTER TWENTY
  25. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
  26. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
  27. CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
  28. CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
  29. CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
  30. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
  31. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
  32. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
  33. CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
  34. CHAPTER THIRTY
  35. CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
  36. CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
  37. CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
  38. CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
  39. CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
  40. CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
  41. CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
  42. CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
  43. CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
  44. CHAPTER FORTY
  45. CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
  46. CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
  47. CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
  48. EPILOGUE
  49. Teaser chapter

Kicking backward, Abby twisted and jerked free, her bare foot slamming into his kneecap. The guy stumbled as he hit the wall and swore another foul oath. Abby ran.

Out of the study, down the hall, through the entry, bursting out into the street. The grass felt wet and cold beneath her bare feet. She stepped on a stone, and pain shot up her leg, but she kept running.

The house was located on Vine Street in an old, historic section of Denver where she had already met a few of her neighbors. She raced to Mr. Godwin’s house and started banging on the heavy wooden front door.

It took a while for the lock to turn and the door to swing open. Elderly Mr. Godwin appeared in his bathrobe, his gray hair sticking straight up, his eyes groggy with sleep.

Abby darted into the house. “Close the door! Hurry! And lock it!”

Mr. Godwin swiftly closed the door, his watery blue eyes wide. “Abigail, what’s happened? Are you okay? What’s going on?”

Abby’s hand went to the bruises forming a chain around her throat. “A man broke . . . broke into the house. He tried . . . tried to kill me.” She sucked in a deep breath of air. “I need to call the police.”

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER TWO

Three weeks later

ABBY WALKED BENEATH THE DARK GREEN CANVAS AWNING THAT RAN the length of the two-story, redbrick building, stopping to peer through the plate-glass windows into the office. Treasure Hunters Anonymous was located in the LoDo neighborhood of Denver, an area of historic buildings turned into trendy shops and restaurants. She pushed open the door and walked inside.

“May I help you?” An attractive woman in her mid-forties with silver-touched dark hair rose from behind her computer, one among three sitting on desks along the wall. Several large wooden tables were stacked with papers and files; others were covered by topographic maps and navigation charts.

“My name is Abigail Holland,” she said. “I’ve got an appointment with Mr. Logan.”

The woman smiled. “I’m Gage’s assistant, Maggie Powell. I’m afraid Gage is on the phone. He should be finished in a few minutes. Have a seat, and I’ll let him know you’re here.”

Abby sat down in a burgundy-leather wingback chair next to the window. Aside from the chair and the small antique oak table beside it, an area that was visitor friendly, the office was clearly a work space.

Logan’s assistant headed down the hall, disappeared behind one of two closed doors, then returned a few minutes later. “Gage is finished with his phone call. You can go on in.”

“Thank you.”

Abby hoisted the strap of her leather purse onto her shoulder and smoothed back the copper hair she wore in a single long braid down her back. The door to Logan’s office stood open. He rose and rounded a big carved antique oak desk to greet her.