Getaway Death: Lily Rock Mystery, #1

PROLOGUE

Overheard in Lily Rock

I love the town of Lily Rock. Their lies are so authentic.

Fog rolled over the mountain road. Despite the poor visibility, the woman drove as if her life depended upon it.

A sharp curve to the right—her squealing tires issued a warning.

Tentatively removing one hand from the steering wheel, she kept her eyes on the road, her fingers reaching down for her windshield wipers. Swish. The blade on the glass moved to the left, then the right. Her gaze remained fixed on the road in front of her. Reaching over the steering wheel, she swiped with her hand at the thick condensation blocking her view from inside the car.

Veering into the next curve, she felt her stomach lurch. Brakes squealed again as the car catapulted into an unexpected second hairpin turn. Her head lolled to the right. As she came out of the curve, she pushed the button on the foggy driver’s side door and rolled down the window, revealing clouds of fog.

Another vehicle rumbled behind her car, close to her bumper.

I guess somebody’s in a big hurry, she snapped to the empty car.

The window slid shut as she looked out of the front windshield to the right, then the left. No turnout lane yet. Tightness stiffened her neck as her hands began to shake on the wheel. Stop tailgating me. Please.

She felt the tires slip on the road, the car floating for a moment. As she slammed on the brakes, her body heaved against the seat belt, her neck and head rocking forward then back. Her stomach came up to her throat.

As her car skidded toward the cliff, she only had one thought:

I finally know how I will die.

CHAPTER ONE

Overheard in Lily Rock

I’m not going to talk to anyone. I didn’t come here to make friends.

"You sound like a girl on The Bachelor."

Her eyes fluttered open. Ouch. She touched her palm to her forehead. The deployed airbag held her body snugly against the seat, though her arms felt sore where she’d shielded her face at the time of the crash.

Reaching to release her seat belt, she noticed she couldn’t get out on her side; the door was crushed inward, almost touching her. She stared out of the passenger window. Her heart beat wildly. From where she sat, there was a steep cliff on the other side of the door, but there was no other way to escape. Was that … had she just felt the car move a little? I’d better get out of this car right away! Nervously jerking her body around she froze. Better move slowly. I may pass out.

She hit the side of the passenger door with her fist. Placing both hands against the paneling she shoved, and as the door gradually opened she froze again. My purse. Where is my— She touched the strap over her shoulder. Her small bag still clung to her body, having survived the crash intact.

Bracing herself with a hand on the side of the car, she wedged her body to the outside, where a small amount of ground waited to catch her. The area might have been big enough to hold a few people, but it was far too small for her liking. A wave of nausea overtook her. Bending over she nearly vomited but stopped suddenly, hearing rustling overhead. She looked up toward the main road.

A tall man with dark hair peered down at her. He hollered, Are you okay?

She blinked away her fuzzy vision, as her knees trembled. Standing up from her crouched position she rocked back and forth on both feet until her stomach stopped lurching.

Unable to talk, she watched the man scramble down the berm, his boots slipping on the dirt and rocks. He came to a halt in front of her with a concerned look in his eyes. He offered her a hand.

I thought you were dead, he explained, pulling her a few steps farther away from the car. You went over the cliff right in front of my eyes. Seeing her confused face, he put both hands on her shoulders. Your pupils are dilated. Are you feeling dizzy?

She steadied herself by locking both knees to stop them from shaking. The last thing I remember is the car free-falling.

You most likely thought you’d end up at the bottom of the canyon. From the road, no one can see the shelf under the bank. It looks like a steep drop-off, but it’s just a couple of feet over the edge. You were very lucky.

If you say so. Her tone was soft and pained.

His voice lowered. I don’t think your car fared as well. You didn’t answer me. Are you feeling dizzy?

I am kind of wobbly and I have a headache, she admitted, holding her palm against the bump on her forehead.

The man’s voice turned all business. We’ll have to call a towing service. It can take time for them to get to this neck of the woods.

His eyes looked back toward her Ford Focus, taking in the smashed windshield and crushed driver’s side door, where she’d hit a tree on the way over the berm.

As he inspected her face more closely, his chin jutted forward. If I knew you better I’d lecture you on driving mountain roads in the fog. Do you have your vehicle registration? The tow guys will want to see that, along with your proof of insurance.

She pointed toward her car. The registration is in my glove box, but you shouldn’t go in there either, unless you want the ride of a lifetime down the cliff. She shrugged out of his grasp, testing her wobbly knees.

My name is Olivia, Olivia Greer, she said, taking a closer look at her rescuer. He stood over six feet tall, a worn plaid shirt hugging his strong arms, tapering to his jeans.

He smiled. Nice to meet you, Olivia Greer.

Before she could ask his name, a sharp pain stabbed her head, accompanied by another round of dizziness.

Unable to speak, she felt her chin droop toward her chest. He lunged forward to take her elbow before she fell to the dirt. Let me help you, he suggested.

Olivia shook her head. I’ve got this. I’m fine now. The first responders will be here soon. You did call them, right?

How about I help you find a safe place to sit down over by my truck. His firm voice made arguing impossible. She only needed to glance back at her car to realize she needed to get to higher ground. I could have died. One more inch …

He reached into his back pocket. Before we hike up the cliff, here’s your cell phone. It must have fallen out of your pocket. Do you want to make the phone calls?

Instead of taking the phone, she rubbed her forehead to clear her disconnected thinking.

Since you know my name, could I ask yours?

She felt his hand on her shoulder. I think you may have a concussion. Do you feel kind of fuzzy? Dark eyes stared into her face.

So you’re not going to tell me your name?

It’s Michael—Mike. You’ll be okay.

Shoving past her initial distrust of strangers, she remembered her better manners. Thanks, Michael. I can’t imagine what I would have done without you. How close she’d come to death … Her eyes filled with tears.

Take my hand. We’re going to head up this cliff toward my truck so that I can give you a place to sit. At least you’ll be safe. Without waiting for her permission, Michael took Olivia’s arm. One step at a time, he cautioned, as if speaking to a child.

He half-dragged and half-lifted Olivia up the steep berm. As she swayed from foot to foot, he placed his hands on her shoulders. Don’t close your eyes, he warned. You’ll find your balance. I’ve got you.

You said you have a truck? Olivia asked as her head cleared again.

Right over there, he pointed.

Olivia’s eyes narrowed when she saw his vehicle. You’re the one, she muttered. You were the guy tailgating me up the hill!

If you mean I’m the one who saved you from death, then yes, I am the one.

You didn’t save me. You pushed me over the cliff. The closer you got to my bumper, the more anxious I felt. I tried to drive slower so that you’d back off. You nearly killed me.

Michael ducked his head. I guess you could see it that way. I was concerned about you, that’s all. Your driving was erratic for this road, in these conditions. I wanted to help you out if you needed it, not make you afraid.

Olivia swallowed her anger. I don’t need any more of your help. Thanks a lot. She looked back over her shoulder. The towing service can get my vehicle registration. I can handle things from here.

At the sound of a honk, Olivia looked down the main road. Traffic had lined up bumper-to-bumper as drivers gawked at the tall man and the small woman arguing with each other.

A green Chevy pickup executed a quick left turn, gravel spraying behind the wheels. A man stuck his head out of the window. Need any help? he hollered. You got things covered, Mike?

Olivia responded first. I do need help. Would you take me into town? Ouch, she cried, rubbing her hand against her head again.

I can take you to the doc in town, Michael offered.

She stood on wobbly legs, determined to stand on her own. Turning her around to face him, he said, I am going to lift you into the cab of my truck and I don’t want any back talk. You can thank me later.

With effortless strength, he hoisted her over his body like a sack of potatoes. A few long strides later, he placed her in the front seat. He waited until a faint smile came to her lips.

Very noble of you, I must say, Olivia muttered. Feeling self-conscious, she ran her fingers through close-cut brown hair. One long strand hung over her right eye, and she pushed it aside.

He smiled gently. I would call 911, but in Lily Rock we rarely get assistance from the police unless there’s a dead body involved—too small a town. So I’d appreciate it if I could drive you. Since it’s all my fault, I’d like to make a police report and take you to the doctor to have you checked out. Would you let me do that?

The hopeful look on his face brought a gentle smile to her lips. She dismissed the possibility that he’d deliberately driven her off the road to steal her car or her money or her person. She didn’t trust him, but she was in no position to refuse his offer.

Do you need any more help? hollered the man again from the green pickup. He’d watched the entire interaction between Michael and Olivia.

Olivia felt Michael move closer to the passenger side door in a protective way. He waited for Olivia to make up her mind.

Looking from one man to the other, she considered her options. I can let the Mike guy drive me, but I’m not sure I trust him. She touched her head, quickly deciding.

Raising her voice to be heard over the traffic, she shouted to the man in the green pickup. Thanks, but I’ll drive with Michael. Appreciate your offer.

He leaned farther out of the window. I’m Arlo. Just ask around. Everybody in town knows me. Come on in for a beer on the house when you’re feeling better. He steered his truck onto the highway, merging with the slower traffic.

Olivia watched him drive away. Beer? She turned to Mike.

He’s the owner and manager of our local brew pub. He’s used to pretty women paying attention to him. Just so you know? Never cross the local bartender. Words of wisdom from my father.

The words sounded familiar, like an old television western she used to watch with her mother when she was very small.

Michael shrugged. She realized he was a man of short sentences, which implied deeper meaning. Since she did not ask about his father, he stepped toward his truck to close the passenger door.

We’d better get going. No one is showing up to help you out. Things must be busy in town, what with the fog and the tourists. I think some ice applied to your head may stop the swelling.

He shut her door and hopped in on his side. As Michael eased into oncoming traffic, she leaned against the passenger window to place her throbbing forehead on the cold glass. Her eyes drooped shut.

The turn signal clicked. Then his voice said, Fog’s lifted. We’ll be in town just short of twenty minutes.

Her head swirled as the truck picked up speed.

How long⁠—

It’s only fifteen minutes more. We’re ahead of the worst congestion. Michael navigated the sharp curve in the road, as Olivia’s stomach tightened.

You live up here? she asked. You seem to know the roads.

He answered her question with another question. You are just visiting?

I am visiting for the first time—a friend. She wondered why she bothered to answer his questions—him a stranger and all. As usual I’m being too friendly. She clamped her jaw shut.

A friend? He waited for her to fill in more information. When she failed to add details, he pointed to a sign stretching across the street. We’re here. Welcome to Lily Rock.

I saw the sign, she said. "Welcome to Lily Rock. Some welcome. I almost get killed being shoved off a cliff. I may turn around and go home today."

You mean, he corrected, you almost got killed due to the fact that you didn’t know how to drive in the mountains in the fog. You had your headlights on.

Of course I had my headlights on. I couldn’t see! Olivia kept her eyes closed as she huddled into the passenger-side door. Where are you taking me?

Instead of driving to the emergency care down the hill, which is a longer distance, I can take you to our local guy who provides health care in the village. I think he can take care of your head. He’s an MD.

I guess that works. What happened to the cops, anyway?

Mike sighed. This is a small town. Most of our responders are volunteer. It takes the sheriff at least twenty minutes to pick up a call and then another hour to find someone up here to show up. You’ve probably never lived in a small town.

Against her better judgment, Olivia corrected his assumption. I have lived in a small town. Playa del Rey.

He nodded. Oh, I know Playa. But honey, it is not small. It’s a suburb of Los Angeles and has five times the population of Lily Rock. You may think it’s small, but compared to what?

Since I am the one who lives there, I can call Playa small. Instead of correcting me, why don’t you just drop me off at the doctor’s?

Rich laughter filled the truck cab. Michael shook his head.

Once in town he found an empty parking space. Here we are. I’ll walk you in.

That will not be necessary. She unlocked the passenger-side door, sliding both legs over the running board to the pavement beneath. Her body followed, crumpling to the ground.

Michael sprinted around the back of the truck. He didn’t catch her this time, but he did hover over her limp frame. Before he could lift her to her feet, a voice interrupted.

Who do you have there, Michael?

I found her in a ditch on Route 63. She may have a concussion. Bending over Olivia’s body, he touched her wrist for a pulse. Then he reached to brush the strand of hair from her face. Her eyes popped open.

Oh no, you don’t, she mumbled. I’ve got this. You do not need to carry me again.

He lowered his voice to whisper in her ear. You may not remember this later, but I’m just telling you, it is my absolute pleasure to carry you anywhere. Standing at his full height, he looked over to the woman who glanced at them from the sidewalk.

Michael said, Skye, help me out here. I’ll call the doc if you will stay with Olivia.

Olivia? You’re on a first-name basis? Skye smirked.

She’s dangerously close to passing out again, he added impatiently.

Skye stepped from the wooden walkway to look down at Olivia. She’s very pretty, if you like skinny girls.

I can hear you, and I’m not skinny. I have an athletic build. Do we have to talk about this now? My head hurts!

Skye and Michael both laughed. Skye shoved Michael’s shoulder. Okay, Boy Scout, you can go now. I’ll make sure Olivia gets the care she needs. Is she visiting for the weekend?

Mike looked down at Olivia and then back to Skye. I’ll let her tell you why she’s here. She’s done talking to me—at least for now.

Skye reached out with both hands to Olivia. Grab on, honey. We’ll get you inside. Don’t blame you for cutting him off. He’s very nosey and too opinionated, if you ask anyone in town.

Olivia grasped both of the woman’s outstretched hands. Pushing with her legs, she rose to a standing position, her head spinning with the effort. The tall woman’s arm reached around her shoulders.

I’ve got you. Let’s walk right into that door over there, and I’ll summon the doc. We’ll have you fixed up in a jiffy.

The two women hobbled away.

CHAPTER TWO

Overheard in Lily Rock

You need to learn to relax.

I’m not sure I can relax—it’s the tension that keeps me together.

Gray eyebrows lifted as a man stared into her pupils.

Olivia blinked. Where am I?

You are currently in the doctor’s office in Lily Rock. I’m Callahan May. He used one finger to painfully explore the open wound on her forehead. Who are you?

Olivia dipped her chin as he pulled back his hand. When she didn’t answer his question, he repeated, Would you mind telling me who you are?

She closed her eyes, willing her thoughts to make words. Finally she replied, I am Olivia Greer.

Don’t stop there. Tell me more. How old are you? Where are you coming from? What brings you all the way up the hill to Lily Rock?

The doctor’s warm voice felt inviting, like a father would sound—if only she had one of her own. Olivia began telling the doctor her story. I’m thirty-four years old, and I live in Playa del Rey. I am here to visit my friend Marla Osbourne⁠—

The doctor reached for a pad of paper and a pencil. Marla’s your friend? Did she invite you to visit, or are you just dropping in?

Of course she invited me! I don’t make it a habit to surprise people by arriving unannounced on their doorstep.

The doctor smiled. Well, let me beg to differ. You sure did drop in on me unannounced. I only wondered if that is your habit with other people.

Olivia chuckled. Well, Doc, I guess you are right. I did drop in on you.

The old man’s face softened. He placed the pad of paper on the edge of his desk, then turned to continue his examination. First he listened to her heart with his stethoscope before he looked deeply into her eyes again.

Olivia, I think you may have a concussion, and I’d like to check that out, with your permission. Do you have any health insurance that I can bill?

Her smile faded. I do not have a policy. I’m in between companies right now.

Do you want to say more about that? inquired the doctor with a gruff voice.

No, I don’t. I’ll get a new policy. I have to wait for an enrollment period.

In an instant—and completely unwelcome—Olivia remembered that conversation with her ex.

You can’t afford anything without me. You don’t even have health insurance. Stuck with me, right, baby? To the bitter end.

She wished she could forget.

The doctor shrugged. Frankly, I don’t think you will need the insurance. Just take it easy and stop in tomorrow. I’ll be able to assess your symptoms and let you know then. You seem like a strong, healthy young woman to me. I think a couple of stitches on your head now and some rest may be all that’s necessary.

Olivia ran her hand through her short hair. But I’ve been going in and out of consciousness. I don’t remember how I got to your office, for example.

We can talk about that later. He turned on his heel, leaving the room, closing the door behind him.

Olivia sighed. She liked how carefully he paid attention to her. The only male attention she’d had growing up was from her mother’s friends. She had imagined a father of her own, gruff and smart, how he might have been, had he not died before she was born.

As she glanced around the consulting room, her focus stopped on a photo of a large dog. Curly chocolate-brown fur covered the face and body of the dog, who smiled at the camera. Under the photo a sign read, Mayor Maguire.

Hey there, doggy, Olivia said aloud. A knock on the door and a vaguely familiar woman bustled into the room.

Hello, dear. I’m here to get something for the doctor. He will be back shortly.

Olivia admired the white nurse’s cap perched on top of the woman’s head. Her starched blouse crackled as she lifted her arm to push aside a stray hair, which had escaped from the bun at the back of her neck. Pinning the curl next to her scalp with a bobby pin, she looked across the room.

The woman’s white Oxford shoes squished across the linoleum floor as she came closer to Olivia.

Do I know you? Olivia asked.

Oh yes, dear. When Michael brought you to us, you were a bit confused. My name is Skye Jones. I work for Dr. May. I’m his receptionist and his nurse.

You are both?

Most of us have more than one job here in Lily Rock. At least, those of us who have lived here for ages. We call ourselves the Old Rockers. The woman chuckled.

Olivia watched Skye unlock a cabinet. After swinging the door open, she inspected each bottle on the shelves. Then she closed the cupboard, locking it with a key that hung from a lanyard around her neck.

Exploring her forehead with the tip of her finger, Olivia winced as the pain from her injury shot down the left side of her face.

Skye’s sharp voice corrected Olivia. No touching until the doctor has stitched that up. Let me have a look. The woman took a step toward her, extending cold hands to inspect the head wound. No glass shards. Looks clean. I suppose Michael must have tidied you up with a first aid kit. Olivia heard a harshness come over the nurse’s voice.

I don’t remember the exact details, admitted Olivia. It may have been Michael.

Skye frowned. You don’t remember? There are many women in this town who find Michael irresistible. They would love to be rescued by the likes of him.

Not wanting to be caught lusting after the local ladies’ man, Olivia looked down at her lap. The woman lingered in the room, adjusting a photo on the wall behind the door.

Was Skye waiting for the doctor to return or did she wanted to advise her further? Skye turned to face her.

You’re Marla’s friend?

How does she already know I’m Marla’s friend?

Skye Jones’s lips pursed. She held her hand over her mouth, then with a quick adjustment, a smile replaced her grimace. "I only asked since Marla is new here. She’s had a few run-ins with the Old Rockers; she’s not one of us. If you know what I mean …

Unable to focus on the nuance of the woman’s remark, Olivia closed her eyes, hoping Skye would stop asking her questions. Make her go away.

Another knock on the door caused Olivia’s head to throb. Her eyes opened again, this time wide with anxiety.

Skye stepped backward, making way for the doctor. He carried a black kit in one hand. I’m ready to stitch if you are. But let’s start with a little numbing first.

Knowing she’d feel less pain if she thought about something other than a long, sharp needle coming toward her forehead, Olivia pointed to the wall. What’s up with the dog?

The doctor arranged his instruments without speaking. He pulled a syringe from a drawer in the cabinet by the sink. Not my dog. At least, he isn’t at the present time. He resides with Meadow McCloud. She handles all of his appearances and mayoral duties.

Don’t tell me that dog is really your mayor. What kind of a town is this?

The doctor applied the anesthetic, which smelled sharply of rubbing alcohol. Working as he spoke, the doctor continued to explain. He is our mayor. I think we’re a pretty good town, and we’d appreciate it if you’d just go along with our ways since you’re a visitor.

Olivia winced as the needle pricked her forehead.

Don’t move now, girly. I’ve got a couple of stitches to finish, and with a little time you’ll be as good as new. He patted her shoulder with his free hand.

Then he added, Not to change the subject, but what happened to your car? Do you need help towing it back into town?

I forgot about my car. Olivia watched closely as the doctor slid the empty syringe onto the counter. Taking in his compact frame and white hair, she assumed he must be in his late sixties.

Threading a surgical needle with a steady hand, considering his age, the doctor turned back toward her. No worries. When I’m done here I can contact my nephew at the garage. He’ll arrange to pick up your vehicle. You do have car insurance, right?

"Oh, I do have car insurance. My Ford is