Reclaimed Hope: Her Truth is a Lie, His Lie Holds the Truth: The Complete Trilogy: The Reclaimed Series

By B.A. Erickson

When Jennifer Thompson won an all expenses paid vacation touring Europe, she thought she hit the jackpot. With dreams of visiting the Old World's finest tourist destinations, she never dreamed she was embarking on an adventure that would rock the foundations of everything she believed true. Her nightmare begins with the brutal murder of every passenger on a train... except her.

David McNally's only family were members of the RNF, an international terrorist organization. Little did he know that when Jennifer Thompson entered his life, his "family" would forever dissipate, everything he knew to be true would vanish, and he would experience true love in its purest form... assuming his once-family doesn't destroy everything.

In a world where the lines of good and evil, terrorism and freedom fighter are blurred, Can Jennifer and McNally reconcile their new found realities with everything they once considered "real?"

• Language: English
• Publisher: Filbert Publishing
• Release date: Nov 2, 2016
• ISBN: 9781540170859

B.A. Erickson

B.A. Erickson writes romantic suspense with a twist. From the hot sands of the desert to the freezing plains of Minnesota, Beth is drawn to the sensual, the dangerous, the incredible promise of each new day... these are all themes in every romantic suspense she pens. Like Ashley in Reclaimed Haven, Beth is also a (hopefully) cancer survivor. That experience brought an interesting new dimension to the tales she weaves. (It also helps out with the nightmare portion of each novel...) She lives in Central Minnesota with her husband, son, and multiple rescue animals. Her work with strays taught her that no matter how dire the circumstance, tremendous hope, love, and joy can be reclaimed in any situation. Keep an eye on how she's doing, nab her latest projects, read journal entries, become a VIP reader, and more by surfing to her web presence.

Book preview

Reclaimed Hope

Her truth is a lie.

His lie holds the truth.

Copyright 2010/2015 Beth Ann Erickson

Published by Filbert Publishing, Ebook Edition

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Discover other novels by B.A. Erickson:

Reclaimed Trust: Screams Fall Silent in the Desert

Reclaimed Love: Evil Lurks in Friendly Places

Reclaimed Hope: Her Truth is a Lie. His Lie Holds the Truth

Reclaimed Haven: Murder on First

Reclaimed Haven: Murder on Second

Reclaimed Haven: Murder on Third

Ebook Edition License Notes

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 enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy.  Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

Book 1: The Nab

Book 2: Betrayal and Bog Mummies

Book 3: Payback

A Note from Beth

About Beth

Books by Beth Ann Erickson

Connect with Beth

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Dedication

This one’s for Maury, my constant encourager; Gogi, my continual muse; Janet, my first reader, dear friend, and sister; and little Annelyse, whose future lies like an open book before her. May you ever dance to your own music.

Finally, this story is dedicated to little Peanut... Nutter Butter. May you soar high, free from your tired little body. May your love continue to touch all who knew you. May you meet us all at the Rainbow Bridge.

Book One

The Nab

Chapter 1

THE TGV BROKE ITS ROLLING motion and slowed to an unbearable pace. She pulled the earphones from her head and dropped them to her lap. The vocal stylings of Steven Vandrose would have to wait. She squinted her eyes against the noonday sun and tried to figure out what caused the slow-down. Eyes tracing the curve of the railroad tracks, she didn’t see a town ahead. She couldn’t tell if something was blocking the tracks in front of the engine. Her gaze swept across the passengers surrounding her. Some seemed vaguely puzzled, the rest either slept or kept their eyes glued inside a book.

All in all, this had been a strange trip.

Jennifer Thompson had never strayed far from Minnesota, much less left the United States. She knew she shouldn’t have come. Every fiber of her being knew winning the trip was too good to be true. Especially when she discovered her family couldn’t accompany her.

Yet, somehow, she’d talked herself into believing that visiting Europe’s greatest treasures would compensate for the absence of Chloe and Russ. But she was wrong. With every site she saw, her first thought was, I wish little Chloe could see this, or, I wonder what Russ would think about this. And now this supposed high speed train was inexplicably slowing and she didn’t have anyone to discuss this curious event with.

She kept her gaze fixed on the window hoping to find out why they had now stopped. To make matters even more perplexing, this wasn’t the first snafu of the day. While at the train station, delay after delay had made her hopelessly behind her prearranged schedule. Then, to top things off, just as they were about to board the train in Paris, the conductor announced that a technical difficulty would make her train shorter than the others in the depot. At first she thought it was nice, rather exclusive, that her train only had only six cars – each not filled to capacity. But after they got rolling, it felt like she was riding a somberly quiet ghost train. Even more eerie, she didn’t know if it was her imagination, but almost every woman on the train looked similar to her with auburn hair, nearly identical height and weight, and almost all were American.

As the train sat idle on the track, her eyes swept over the few passengers in her car. By now, most seemed mildly curious, somewhat concerned about this newest delay. Everyone except one man.

He sat stiff in his seat staring at the table in front of him, lips mumbling noiselessly. He fidgeted with an earphone.

She wondered what he was doing. If he was listening to music, it was pretty angry judging from the way his eyes glinted steel hard. She watched him adjust the earphone and nod. He stood and strode to the back of the car, stopping next to a cupboard on the back wall. He turned and reached inside his pale gray jacket, eyes scanning the area before they rested on the back wall.

Her eyes narrowed, his black hair glistening in the sunlight as she studied his face. His eyes pierced the air above the aisle. She doubted his pale skin had been exposed to direct sunlight in a long time. But as her eyes slid across his body, it was his hands that disturbed her the most. They were huge with fingers appearing larger than most large three-ring-binder rings. If she didn’t know better, she would've thought they resembled bear claws. She instinctively knew they could break any bone without effort. She watched one behemoth digit glide to his earphone. He nodded, as if listening to a silent voice.

She seemed to be the only passenger who noticed his strange behavior. He puzzled her far more than the train's unexpected stop.

She watched as he pulled a pair of black gloves from his pocket and slipped them over his huge hands. Then he pulled a semi-automatic pistol from inside his jacket. Her breath caught in her throat.

If I may have your attention, he called in English, Please remain calm and do not move. The occupants of the train car gasped. He continued, Please prepare to show your passport and traveling papers. Do not reach for them now. I’ll tell you when to do so. He repeated his speech two more times, once in flawless French, one more time in perfect German.

The door behind him slid open with a snap and another man dressed similarly in black pants, gray jacket, and black gloves entered. He carried a machine gun. They nodded to each other. The man spoke again. When my associate approaches your seat and gives you permission, you may very slowly reach for your passport and show it to him. When he’s finished set it in your lap. If you stray from my instructions, you will be immediately shot.

His partner darted down the aisle and stopped near the seats at the front of the car. He nodded to a couple to his right and raised his gun as they retrieved their papers. Hands shaking, they lifted their passports. He examined them carefully, paging through each and rubbing the insignia on the front. With his analysis complete, he nodded and tossed them onto their owner’s laps.

He proceeded down the aisle meticulously examining each passenger’s papers. When a man two chairs away from her fumbled with his luggage, the massive-hand-man raised his pistol and without a second thought, shot him.

Jennifer leaped to her feet, hands raised in the surrender position. No, she gasped.

The shooter’s eyes swung towards her. Sit down, he said in English.

Terror flowed through her veins. She glanced at the man as blood oozed through his shirt. She almost followed his instructions but just as she was about to sit, the wounded man moaned. She glanced at a red blotch forming on his chest before she straightened her back. She braced herself and allowed her eyes to connect with the man with the huge hands. She winced before she said, Let me help him.

Sit down, the man replied.

Let me help him, she repeated, knowing it was probably a bad idea to draw attention to herself. She continued nonetheless. You don’t want to add murder to your list of crimes, do you?

Amusement washed over big-hand man’s face. Then he glanced towards the man slouching in his seat, the crimson circle growing on his torso.

She glanced at the injured man. Never in her wildest dreams could she imagine that she’d react this way in a crisis. Let me help him, she said.

His eye shifted from the wounded man back to her. He nodded, Go ahead. But don’t interrupt the search. Got it? The man examining passports paused as his eyebrows arched upward.

She scrambled to the injured man and fumbled with his shirt.

He was bleeding. A lot. The bullet entered his body on the lower left side of his torso. Blood squished between her fingers as she unbuttoned his shirt. The smell of salty copper made her throat tighten. When she lifted the fabric to examine the wound, she instantly realized she didn’t have the expertise to help. The gaping hole oozed more blood than she could hope to stop. Bubbles told her the bullet had punctured his lung. She eased him forward and examined his back. No exit wound. That meant the bullet was still inside. She didn’t know how to help. But he didn’t have any other volunteers.

I need a first-aid kit, she demanded, glancing at Mr. Hands. Without letting him respond she nodded to his right, "It’s probably in one of those cupboards.

She watched him step towards it and open the door. He rummaged, throwing a few blankets to the floor before finding it on the third shelf. He grasped it with his massive claws and tossed it to her. She caught it with one bloody hand.

She hastily pulled it open, yanking out ointments and bandages. She pressed gauze onto his wound hoping to slow down the bleeding until professional medics could get to him. As she worked, she was vaguely aware of the other man moving through the car checking the remaining passenger’s passports. He finished and stopped to stare at her.

Another armed man entered the train car and joined his two cohorts. This one had longer hair than the other two. Despite the lines that etched his pale face, it had a boyish appearance. His stocky shoulders seemed packed into his jacket. He approached his comrades. They spoke in muffled whispers, motioning towards her. The new man stepped to her.

Passport, he demanded.

Bloody up to her wrists, she continued to sop liquid from around the hole in the man’s ribs. I’m a little busy, she snapped.

Passport, he repeated holding out his hand.

She glanced at him. Do you want this man to die? I’m busy.

I want your passport, he demanded, this time a veiled threat wrapped itself around each word.

Fine, she grumbled, "it’s in the blue back pack in seat 14A. She pointed a dripping finger towards her seat.

He nodded to one of his cohorts who stepped forward and grasped the bag. He unzipped it and dug through the contents. He tossed a novel, reading glasses, and a tampon onto the seat before retrieving her passport. He dropped the bag, opened the little book and studied it.

She’s the one, he said nodding towards her. The other two men acknowledged him.

You’ll come with us, said the man with the big hands.

What? she gasped, You’ve got to be kidding.

Come with us, he glanced at the stocky man who was shoving her belongings into her backpack. While he worked, he mumbled into a two-way radio attached to his shoulder. When he straightened his back, he adjusted an earphone.

She focused her attention back to her patient. I’m not leaving him, she grabbed another piece of gauze and applied it to the wound.

Someone else will have to tend to him, he grasped her arm, Come along.

Absolutely not, she pulled her arm away.

He drew his gun near her face, You may come voluntarily or I can shoot.

Her eyes grew wide. She glanced at the wounded man, then to the barrel of the gun. A voice behind her quivered, I’ll take care of him.

She turned. A woman was standing and walking towards them. The man she was traveling with looked horrified as she spoke. Watching the woman walk towards her was like watching her reflection in a mirror. Their resemblance was staggering. I’ll take care of him, she repeated.

Fine, said the man with the gun. He grasped Jennifer’s arm and pulled her to her feet. Drops of blood sprinkled from her fingertips onto the floor. The woman slid next to the wounded man and began to tend to him.

The man dragged her through the front exit of the train and into the next car. Touch anything and I’ll cut off your hand, he growled. Tears stung her eyes as they proceeded into the next car. It looked like a mirror image of the car she’d just left. Two men with guns stood guarding terrified passengers while a third rummaged through baggage. Each car seemed to have the same number of passengers, and every woman looked like her.

We got the mule. Confirmed, said the man with the hands.

The men smiled and spoke into their radios.

All eyes focused on her. She squirmed as he pulled her down the aisle and towards the next car.

They proceeded through two more passenger cars, each controlled by those horrible men, before they exited the train. By now fright consumed her. As they stepped outside, musty air bombarded her nostrils. To her right, a swamp filled the air with pungent odors. A row of six delivery vans waited on the dirt road directly in front of her about fifty meters away. To her left, a large pasture laid between her and a golden cornfield. She watched what looked like teams of men emptying luggage compartments and carrying the bags into delivery vans.

Get moving, a gun barrel jammed into her ribs. She hadn’t realized she’d stopped walking.

She took a few more steps before stopping again. Tremors shivered through her body when she saw what she considered to be the scariest man alive walking towards her. Jet black hair, the exact color of midnight on a moonless night, glistened like an icy river. Reptilian eyes with the warmth of an ice cube bore into her. A seemingly permanent scowl twisted his lips. She instinctively pivoted to avoid his gaze, bumping head-long into her captor.

What the hell, he mumbled, turning her around and pushing her towards the awful man again.

She slowed her pace but lunged forward when the man behind pushed her. She couldn’t shake her gaze from the awful man.

His glossy mahogany eyes fixed on her like a vise. Although surrounded by commotion on either side, he was the soul of focus never straying from his target – her.

Black ringlets bobbed and flicked with each step he took. She watched in horror as he neared. She knew with all that was within her that she didn’t want to be near him. His soulless face looked like someone who could kick a stray dog until it transformed into a bloody pulp. She pushed against her captor in earnest, hoping he wouldn’t make her proceed any further.

Dammit, he said, keep moving.

As they neared the awful man, she pulled her gaze away from his face and allowed it to rest upon the machine gun he carried by his side. Her heart leaped to her throat.

Her mind ricocheted from one escape plan to another, each resulting in the same outcome: her capture. With this knowledge she continued to step forward until she stood face to face with this awful man.

This is the mule? he asked.

Her captor nodded.

Great, he said grasping her arm and pulling her closer. He leaned near her face and said, You have something I need. Where is it?

She gazed at him, trying to appear calm, I have no idea what you’re talking about.

He squeezed her arm tighter. Don’t play games. I want it. Where is it?

She shook her head, If I knew what you wanted, I’d give it to you.

His eyes narrowed, the muscles in his jaw tightening. So. You want to play?

She shook her head and babbled, Tell me what you want and it’s yours.

How the hell am I supposed to know how they sent it, he growled. His eyes bore into hers, Just give it to me. She nodded dumbly and stammered a few incoherent words. He squeezed her arm. Now, he said, I don’t have much time.

I, uh, she mumbled, eyes darting, searching for any chance of getting out of this mess alive, Please, she whispered, You’re hurting me.

I’ll do a lot more than that if you don’t give it to me.

Tears sprang into her eyes. I’d give it to you if I knew what you wanted, she moaned.

Dammit, he glanced at the ground, Well, if you’re not going to give me the information, I’ll have to take you with me. I’ll get it later.

No, icy cold fear flooded her veins, Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.

He twisted her arm and pushed his nose next to hers, Listen. Just give me the list and I might let you live.

What list? she gasped twisting away from him. By now terror had invaded every cell of her body.

Suddenly the man with the big hands yelled, They’re ready. Sterilize?

Scary man nodded.

Big-hand man turned and headed towards the train again.

Wait, the awful man called, use this. He tossed his machine gun to the man with the hands. Hands-man nodded, then tossed his pistol to awful-man. Awful man caught it with one hand, then slipped it into the waistband of his pants. He turned his attention back to Jennifer. You’ve used up your time, he said, You’re coming with me.

She twisted her arm out of his grasp and ran ten feet before he tackled her. Without saying a word he hauled himself to his feet and dragged her along with him. She struggled and screamed. He clamped his hand over her mouth. She bit. He swore and swung her like a sack of potatoes over his shoulder. He began to saunter towards the vans.

She moaned. It felt like he’d just broke every rib in her body. She wheezed and tried to gather her senses. She watched men swarm towards the train and enter it.

Then, popping sounds filled each train car and carry-on luggage dropped from the windows. Screams erupted almost drowning out the noise, but not for long. After a final scream and three more pops, silence clung to the air, suffocating everything but the thoughts rumbling through her mind. She could hardly comprehend what had just happened. Images of her cabin-mates filled her mind and the realization began to dawn that all of them were dead – killed in cold blood. Even the man she’d tried to save.

The terror in her stomach evolved into another, less helpless emotion. In the middle of her belly, a hint of rage bubbled. It bubbled with each step he took until it overtook her fear and dominated her emotions.

Knowing if she entered a van, she’d very likely die. She began to writhe like a fish. He didn’t let go. Instead he slapped her buttock and held her legs tighter. Now, anger dominated her emotions. She flailed her torso and kicked her feet. He stumbled but continued to hold steady.

She heaved her upper body up and down and clawed the hair at the crown of his head pulling his face towards the chilly August sky. Finally, she disrupted his center of gravity enough to make him stumble backwards. Before his feet could catch up to his body, he fell to his back. She ignored the pain ripping through her body. She heard voices yelling. She seized the moment, shoved her knee into his face, scrambled over his head and ran.

He was too fast. Just as she was about to make her escape he turned onto his stomach and grasped her ankle. She twisted and took one final look at his ugly face before she aimed her foot. She soundly kicked his now-bloody nose with the sole of her dirty shoe. He covered his face with his hands. She leaped to her feet and ran. Behind her, explosions rocked the earth. A wave of intense heat pushed her forward as the train exploded into multiple fireballs.

She’d never run faster in her life. As her feet pounded the hard ground, an eruption of voices boomed behind her. She didn’t take time to notice. She’d already zeroed in on her target: the cornfield. It was quite a ways away, but it was the only place with tall enough vegetation to hide. She set a steady pace parallel to a dirt road and made a beeline towards it.

The rhythm of her feet resounded in her ears as she concentrated on reaching her target. The swoosh of grass grazing her knees became almost hypnotic. She became vaguely aware of feet pounding behind her but they were far enough away to be of no concern – yet. She increased her pace in case their stride was longer than hers.

As she approached the halfway point to the cornfield, footsteps narrowed the gap between them. She knew she’d not outrun this pursuer. She glanced behind her. The sight of the burning train made her gasp. But she couldn’t think about it. She had to outrun her pursuer. She focused on him.

He didn’t seem very big; a lanky young man who would easily outrun her within a few minutes. Before she could allow herself to think, she stopped abruptly and pivoted on her right foot to face him. He stretched his arms out to try and tackle her. She stepped to the left and avoided his reach – but not completely. She grabbed his right arm and bit the flesh of his forearm as hard as she could. Blood oozed between her teeth as his screams pierced the air. She turned on her heel and left him cradling his injured appendage. She spit blood out of her mouth as she took off again.

She ran with all her might, feet pounding the grass in a predictable one-two, one-two rhythm. Before long, she heard another set of footsteps trail her. She glanced back and saw a stocky man. She figured she must be fatiguing because he was closing the gap faster than he should have considering his girth. She’d have to deal with him.

She mumbled a quick prayer, turned on her heel and ran straight towards him. He was ready for her. He stretched out his arms ready to ensnare her in an embrace. She had no plans of getting caught. She crouched and ran towards him like a linebacker. She closed her eyes and with all her might slammed her shoulder into his stomach. She heard him groan as the air exited his diaphragm. He fell to the ground gasping. She stomped on his hand as she took off towards the cornfield.

As she pounded the grass again, a humming sound to her right attracted her attention. She glanced toward the sound. To her horror, white vans barreled down the dusty road traveling parallel to her position. She’d never outrun them. She began to run away from the road and towards the cornfield at a 45-degree angle. Already her lungs screamed for oxygen and her legs burned with fire. But she couldn’t stop. She forced her mind to keep her limbs moving at the predictable rhythm she’d already established. But her limbs weren’t cooperating like they did in the beginning of her run.

Out of the corner of her eye she watched men in black slacks and gray coats pour from the vans. Seeming to know her destination, they followed the edge of the field and ran in an interception course towards her. She knew they’d cut off her only path to freedom if she couldn’t beat them to the field. Despite her screaming limbs she urged them to move faster. To make matters worse she heard numerous footsteps pounding the grass behind her. She didn’t dare glance at the sound, instead she concentrated on getting to the field before the men could stop her.

Sweat dripped down her back. Her heart exploded with each beat. Wind whipped her cheeks. She didn’t know how much longer her legs would be able to run, but she continued to urge their frantic pace. She glanced towards the group of men racing along the edge of the cornfield and was relieved to see only one man had a chance of intercepting her. She focused on him mentally calculating how fast she would have to run to evade him. As she calculated, it became painfully evident she wouldn’t outrun him. She estimated how much he weighed and how much force it would take for her to tackle him. He was big.

Then she recognized him. Mr. Big Hands. He weighed half again as much as her. It would take a tremendous amount of force to get him to the ground. She had to find the strength to not only outrun him, but possibly tackle him. But her muscles wanted rest. Nevertheless, she focused her mind on her target and ran with grace and speed. She heard heavy breathing behind her. Her eyes glanced the direction of the man with the big hands. It would be a tight race. But she had to make it. She had to get to the field – once she got there, she didn’t know how she’d get away, but at least she could have half a chance to escape if she could hide amongst the rows of corn.

The man to her right was gaining. With only a few feet to go, she decided to take evasive action. The footsteps behind her had somehow grown to a small stampede. After a quick prayer, she abruptly veered to her right and braced herself for the biggest tackle of her short career. She yelled a great bellow as she lowered her shoulder and rammed into his belly. Again, breath exited his diaphragm along with a groan. He staggered to the ground. She tried to regain her pace, but this time her legs struggled to begin running.

She stumbled and promptly tripped over his head. He screamed and grabbed his nose. Before she could regain her footing, another body flew on top of her. She twisted and clawed at whatever bare skin she could find. She crawled out from under him only to be assaulted again, and again... and again. Over the din someone screamed, Don’t kill her yet, don’t kill her yet!

With what felt like a million hands trying to control her, she shimmied along the grass with her arm outstretched. She finally grasped a stalk of corn. She groaned and continued to inch towards the field, an unknown force within her pushing her onward.

Will you please control that woman, the voice shouted again.

Finally a pair of hands grasped her ankles and yanked her away from her blessed field.

Turn her over, the voice yelled again.

The hands grasped her arms and flipped her to her back. She was face to face with Awful Man.