Bots to Bullets

By J.L. Swann

If someone called you in the middle of lunch and told you to get out of town, would you go? What if that same someone claimed your husband had just been murdered and that you and your stepson were next?

Kate Ramsdell’s a squeaky-wheel-gets-the-grease kinda gal. During the week she’s an administrative assistant, one of the best in Tucson, Arizona, but come the weekend Kate takes off her typing gloves and goes...

Extreme mountain biking. With her husband and stepson.

Until two years ago when Kate found out she had breast cancer. Then she tried to break her neck. Literally. That put an end to the extreme kind of biking. For the moment.

Now the cancer’s in remission, her neck is healed, and all Kate wants to do is help her stepson plan his wedding. After all – he’s going to marry her best friend’s daughter. How much fun is that!

The fun turns tragic when lunch is interrupted by a phone call from a nutcase in Montana named Jackson Miles, a voice from her husband’s computer geek past. Miles insists her husband Dave is dead and that Kate and her stepson are in danger.

If she and Travis don’t leave town immediately, their lives may be forfeit.

Really.

If it weren’t for the promise Kate made her husband long ago – the promise to take Jackson Miles’ advice if and when it were ever offered – Kate would’ve hung up the phone.

Instead, she packs her bags, thinks up a lie to get Travis in the car, and tries to disappear.
Only disappearing isn’t as easy as Kate expected.
When someone tries to blow off her head in a tiny roadside café, she decides they have to follow Miles’ directions.

But can she really trust a man when she gets shot at the first time he shows his face?
Bit by bit, her husband’s dark past reveals itself, sending both Kate and Travis on the downhill ride of their lives with twists and turns no one can predict.

Not even the enigmatic Jackson Miles.

Dodging a mysterious nemesis who seems to know their every move, Kate and Travis hit the road - destination unknown - while Miles ferrets out who killed Dave and why. Kate and Travis bob and weave and double back on their trail and just when the pair think they’ve finally eluded their pursuer, Miles has to show up like a rotten banana and spoil the fantasy. It seems Travis has been sending covert messages to his love, messages that were intercepted by the people trying to kill them.

Now Kate’s soon-to-be daughter-in-law is heading into the jaws of a deadly trap. A trap only she and Travis can stop from springing.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Eye of the Eagle
• Release date: Oct 16, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465901774

J.L. Swann

Living off the grid in the middle of the Lost Sierras has given the Swann family a different perspective on life. This often-challenging lifestyle has spawned an assortment of oddities, including the husband and wife writing team known as J.L. Swann. Jim is a civil engineer and computer enthusiast. Louisa is a professional writer whose short stories have appeared in both Pocketbook and DAW anthologies.

Book preview

Chapter 1

October 13

Tucson, Arizona

3 a.m.

JANET MITCHELL GRABBED her slippers from the floor beside her bed, shook them hard enough to knock any lurking scorpions free, and was halfway through the bedroom door before realizing she hadn’t a clue where she was going. Worse than that—the slippers were still in her hand.

Not a good thing when you lived in the desert.

She jammed her feet into the soft leather, pausing briefly as a door slammed somewhere outside. Heat flushed her body, followed by a chill that had nothing to do with the swamp-cooled air. She glanced back at her husband. Listened to his soft snores. Maybe she should wake Bill up. Send him down to investigate. But Bill would just pat her shoulder, mumble something about worrying too much, and start snoring again.

Another slam. A car door from the sound of it.

The chill spread down her bare arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. This wasn’t the big city, this was Saguaro Hills, a sleepy suburban neighborhood on Tucson’s southern edge, where the only things stirring from midnight to six were scorpions and coyotes.

A slamming door at three a.m. demanded attention.

There was only one person she could think of who’d be out at this time of night and that particular person should be easing doors closed, not slamming them.

Teri.

Once again Janet’s feet moved before her brain kicked into gear. Her daughter had spent the day—and the evening—with her fiancé. Her bed had been empty when Janet went to sleep, but nineteen-year old Teri—sweet as a kitten with claws and oh, so in love—was supposed to be home by midnight.

Teri’s a grown woman, Janet reminded herself. She paused in the hallway as her eyes adjusted to the dim light from the street lamps outside.

Grown woman or not, Teri was still her baby and that little worry knot cramping Janet’s stomach wouldn’t go away until she’d made sure her daughter was safe.

Her slippers hissed ominously along the faux-Persian rug lining the hall floor. She didn’t look at the family pictures staring from the walls, concentrating instead on the soft glow from the bathroom nightlight spilling onto her daughter’s half-open door.

A door Teri generally closed when she went to bed.

Darn that girl. Worry turned to frustration and back to worry again, burbling like an over-done stew. She’d been over this with her daughter time and again: call if you’re going to be home after midnight. A simple phone call eliminated the nightmares that swirled through a mother’s mind:

Accident.

Abduction.

Murder.

Even in this neighborhood, with its neighborhood watch and caring residents, Janet never fooled herself. Bad things happened to good people all the time. A not-so-little fact of life driven home when a neighbor’s little boy was hit by a car and instantly killed.

Janet didn’t realize she was holding her breath until her hand was on Teri’s door. She shoved into the room, ready to deliver a motherly sermon with both barrels . . .

And paused at the sight of her daughter tucked peacefully into bed.

A trace of sweet cinnamon drifted into the hall. The little worry knot unraveled as Janet watched her daughter sleep. Teri’s dark hair looked black in the dim light from her Pooh Bear nightlight. A few tousled curls fell onto her forehead, framing eyebrows arched upward like a blackbird’s wings. Her lips parted as if about to say something smart and sassy, but all that came out was a soft snort.

Curled snugly in the hollow between Teri’s knees and tummy was the reason why the door had been left open: Queenie. A slender Siamese kitten that raised holy hell if she couldn’t get out of a room.

The kitten raised her head, blinking curiously at the interruption, then exploded from bed and tore out the door as a car engine roared to life nearby.

Janet’s pulse quickened. Quietly, she crossed the room and peered out the window. Outside everything looked quiet, both in the side yard and the house next door. No disappearing headlights. In fact, she couldn’t see the street at all. The side yard looked clear—no vandals skulking in the cactus. No thieves lugging TV sets out the door.

Janet hadn’t realized until now how limited Teri’s view was. She couldn’t see into the back yard either.

You have to stay vigilant, whispered a little voice in her head. Keep the neighborhood and your family safe.

It would only take a second to run downstairs and check outside. That’s what neighborhood watch was all about, right? Then she could climb back into bed, reclaim her covers from Bill, and go back to sleep.

Janet hurried downstairs and into the entryway. The streetlight shone brighter in here. Probably because she’d forgotten to close the curtains again.

Someone could be outside right now, the voice in her head whispered. Someone could be looking in.

A pillow tumbled off the couch.

Janet froze, heart racing, as another pillow tumbled, then another and another. Then a cream-colored blur scrambled over the back of the couch and disappeared.

The kitten. Of course. Why else would pillows mysteriously tumble off her couch?

Janet dodged the coffee table, tossed the pillows back on the couch, and looked out the front window.

Chapter 2

NO CAR, IDLING or otherwise, in sight.

Janet had to admit she was relieved. Conflict was not her cup of tea. Unlike her best friend, Kate Ramsdell. Kate was a squeaky-wheel-gets-the-grease kinda gal who thrived on conflict.

She reached up to pull the curtains closed, gaze lingering on the house next door. The Ramsdell house.

The worry knot was back.

There was something wrong at the Ramsdell’s. Janet was sure of it, though she didn’t quite know what it was.

Not yet.

Quickly, Janet went to the front door, pulled it open, and stepped out on the porch. Somewhere in the sage-scented darkness a cricket chirped and fell silent.

A slight breeze caressed her cheek and set the palm leaves overhead whispering. The street—the entire neighborhood—was quiet.

Empty.

Queenie wrapped her warm body around Janet’s ankles. You’re not supposed to be out here. The kitten’s purr motor kicked into high gear as Janet bent over to pick Queenie up . . .

An awful something-is-wrong feeling hit her stomach like an iron fist.

Nothing’s wrong, she told herself.

Just go see, whispered the voice. Janet gathered the kitten close, walked down the stairs, and around the cholla fence separating the yards, slippers slip-slapping across the flagstone path. She studied the walkway, the porch, the windows. No blood. No bodies. No forced signs of entry.

So why did she feel so . . . sick?

Queenie meowed and tried to jump down. Easy girl. Janet rubbed her cheek across the silky fur, taking comfort from the kitten’s warmth. She mounted the porch steps and stopped in front of the door.

The kitten clawed her way up Janet’s shoulder. Janet started to disengage the way-too-sharp claws . . . and realized what was bothering her.

Not something out of place.

Something missing.

Janet swallowed hard, trying to work moisture back into a mouth gone suddenly dry. She moved toward the living room window.

The window that had caught her attention.

She should’ve felt bad peeking into the house, but she didn’t. Her best friend lived in this house. The same friend who hung bright, frilly curtains in her living room windows. The friend who loved those curtains so much she never took them down. Not even to wash them. And now those curtains were gone. She peered through the window and immediately wished she hadn’t.

The curtains weren’t the only thing missing.

No curtains.

No furniture.

No Ramsdells.

Run, run, run, the little voice screamed. But her feet wouldn’t move. Her feet, her whole body, were frozen in place by the realization that her friend—the friend she thought she’d known better than a sister—had disappeared in the middle of the night.

Queenie yowled, loud and insistent. Janet clasped the kitten tight as she raced across the porch and down the stairs, no longer bothering to keep quiet.

Part of her believed any minute Kate would show up at the door, hair on end and baseball bat in hand, demanding to know what was going on.

The other part knew there was no Kate.

No Dave.

No Travis.

The fist squeezing Janet’s throat tightened its grip. She held Queenie tight against her shoulder with her left hand and bent to retrieve the spare key hidden behind the old man cactus guarding the side path.

The key was gone.

Janet turned over rock after rock, first behind the cactus, then in front, heedless of thorns and lurking scorpions. Dust rose in the cool night air, tickling her nose, clogging her throat. Queenie growled.

Janet ignored the kitten. It’s here somewhere. I know it is. Just be patient a minute . . . Ow!

Queenie bounded free while Janet stared at the blood oozing from her wrist. She had to calm down . . .

"What’s up with the cat?

Janet stifled a screech and turned as Bill shuffled up the path, bare feet slapping against the cool stone. His glasses hung crooked on his nose and he hadn’t bothered to top his boxers off with t-shirt or robe.

Queenie bolted into the house before I got the door halfway open. And what are you doing out here? Bill looked as confused as his glasses.

Janet hugged her arms tight about her waist and tried to stop the violent shivering that racked her from head to toe. A dull ache had lodged itself behind her eyes, the kind of ache that promised to grow into a raging headache. The Ramsdells. They’re gone.

The words sounded alien, aloof. Like they came from the mouth of a stranger.

Gone? Bill shoved his glasses up his nose, climbed up the porch, and peered through the window. Looks like everything’s gone.

That was Bill. The king of understatement. That’s what I said, Janet swallowed the urge to strangle her husband.

Bill stopped staring in the window and stared at her instead. You got the key? Let’s go inside, take a look around.

There is no key.

Bill shuffled back down the steps and gave her arm a pat he probably meant to be reassuring. I’ll check around back. He stepped around the old man cactus and headed down the path that led to the Ramsdell’s backyard.

Janet didn’t follow.

A minute ago she would’ve done anything to get into the house. But now the very thought made her stomach even sicker. Inside the house would not only look empty, it would sound empty. Deserted.

Deserted house, deserted friends.

What the hell had happened?

Her heart skipped a beat as the front door swung open and Bill stepped out, his brow furrowed in concern. The cupboards are empty. The refrigerator looks like it’s never been used. Even the trash can is gone.

The back door was open? Janet wasn’t sure her legs would hold her up anymore. She rubbed her temples with both hands, trying to erase the pain from behind her eyes.

No. Whoever cleaned this place out didn’t know about the backup spare key. It was right where I left it—in the cactus wren’s nest.

Janet shuffled over to the steps and sat down. Every-thing looked all right last night when we went to bed. Normal. Not like this. She jerked her chin at the empty window.

Bill closed the door. He turned the key over and over in his hand as if looking for an answer in the notched metal. Finally, he sighed and sat down beside her. Didn’t you have lunch with Kate yesterday?

Janet nodded. She got a phone call, said she’d forgotten an appointment and then she just . . . left. I should’ve . . . Should’ve what? Demanded to know who was on the phone? I should’ve realized something was wrong.

You can’t fix the world, you know, Bill put his arm around her shoulders and hugged her close.

Maybe not the world. But she and Kate had always managed to fix each other. This time, however, Janet’s mind had been on the upcoming wedding, not on her friend’s mysterious phone call.

Guilt washed over her like an icy wave. Janet put her head on her knees, pressing her forehead hard against the bony kneecaps. The normal Kate would’ve grumped and groaned and generally griped about having forgotten she was supposed to be somewhere.

But the Kate who left lunch yesterday was silent and upset. Definitely not normal.

Then there was the car . . .

Janet jumped to her feet. I’m going to call the police. I heard a car tonight. At first I thought it was Teri sneaking in, but she was sound asleep. The car had to be here…

What kind of car was it?

Janet opened her mouth, then closed it. Finally, she shrugged. I didn’t actually see the car. I heard it. First the doors slamming. Then it started up and I guess it drove away.

Bill stood and brushed off the seat of his shorts. Why don’t you wait until morning and see if Kate calls? If she doesn’t call by noon, then call the police. Though I’m not sure what they’ll be able to do.

They can do their job, that’s what. Janet hated the thought of sitting around doing nothing. Something was definitely wrong here—people didn’t just clean out their houses in the middle of the night—but Bill had a point. She had nothing to give the police except her suspicions.

Janet looked back at her own house. Let her gaze travel up to her daughter’s bedroom window. It wasn’t just Kate she was worried about. Yesterday morning Teri had broken the news—she’d gotten engaged. To Travis.

Kate’s nineteen-year old son.

What would Teri—sweet, stubborn, spit-in-harm’s-face Teri—do when she found out her fiancé had vanished?

Chapter 3

The previous day . . .

KATE RAMSDELL STOOD in the garage doorway, open cell phone in hand, and tried not to breathe the stench of gasoline and oil. The dryer hummed in the laundry room behind her, a pleasant counterpoint to the unpleasant task at hand. Interrupting the morning’s father-son project did not bode well for the rest of the day. She caught her husband’s eye, held out the phone.

It’s Bing. He says it’s important.

Her husband picked up a part, handed it to his son, then wiped his hands on a greasy rag and stood up.

Kate waited at the door, unwilling to move into the garage. Who knew what she might step on—or in.

Engine parts dusted the garage floor—hordes of nuts and bolts and what looked like a bicycle chain on steroids and filters and other stuff she could only guess at—surrounding a motorcycle stripped to the frame, its skeleton exposed to the world like a massive transplant recipient.

Dave rubbed the sweat from his forehead, leaving a grease streak behind as he stepped over all the parts, and took the phone from her hand. You look like someone just stole your favorite marbles.

He patted her backside as he squeezed past and headed into the house.

Kate rolled her eyes and smiled at Travis, her jaw tightening as her stepson turned back to his motorcycle without a word.

Yep, she’d pay for this one. Travis didn’t grump or groan like a lot of teenagers. He shut up. At first Kate thought the silence was a blessing, but time taught her that Travis’s cold shoulder was more effective than an enraged rant.

There was one subject Travis couldn’t resist, though.

Kate scanned the floor in front of her and stepped cautiously into the garage. So, did you ask her?

Travis didn’t look up, but Kate could tell she had his attention. Come on, kiddo. Not my fault your dad’s old buddy called. What did she say?

Travis finally looked her way, eyes twinkling. When I asked her out to dinner? She said ‘yes,’ of course.

This time Kate didn’t bother watching where she stepped. She moved over to Travis’s side and lightly slapped his shoulder.

You know what I mean.

Travis grinned. When I asked her to the movies? She said ‘yes,’ of course.

She’d never have believed how much a son could look like his father before meeting Dave and Travis three years ago. They were almost the same height now—though Travis claimed to be six feet, one and a half inches compared to Dave’s six feet, one inch. The years had added a few inches to Dave’s girth and his dark hair now sported a trace of silver. Travis, on the other hand, let his hair curl down to his shoulders, a fact Dave constantly grumped about.

Otherwise, they could have passed for brothers.

Unfortunately, they both shared the same perverted sense of humor.

Travis . . . Kate’s voice rose in mock threat.

Oh, Travis’s face turned thoughtful as if he’d just realized what Kate was getting at. You mean when I asked her to marry me. She said . . .

She said ‘yes,’ of course, said a new voice. Both Travis and Kate looked up in surprise as a curly head peeked around the garage’s outer door with a mischievous grin.

Kate looked at Travis, not sure if the girl was teasing or . . .

Her stepson nodded.

A loud squeal bounced off the garage walls. Engine parts flew in all directions as Kate raced over and wrapped her soon-to-be daughter-in-law in her arms.

Congratulations! Kate’s eyes burned as she pulled back and took a long look at her best friend’s daughter. Teri’s short hair stuck out at odd angles, darker at the roots where it had been dampened with some kind of gel.

Teri grinned. Kate grinned back.

Is that a new shirt? Kate said, suddenly at a loss for words.

Um. I think so. Teri pulled back and stared down at the form-fitting t-top as if wondering where it came from. Kate should’ve known better than to ask. Teri could go on for hours about the newest computer technology. Clothes, however, were not high on her priority list.

Teri’s impish green eyes glinted. Oh, yeah. Mom picked it up while I was at that computer camp.

Hey, Travis walked up on Teri’s other side, wiping grease from his hands. He grabbed Teri around the waist and drew her into a close embrace. I missed you.

Time to make her exit. Kate headed toward the laundry room. Coffee’s hot.

Her heart skipped a beat as the pair turned to look at her. So young and so in love.

I’ll have a cup, Travis said. Teri nodded. Me, too. Thanks.

Couldn’t be a better match, Kate thought. "You want something to