Page 39 of Peril in Piney Woods

3:20 p.m.

ERNIE’S CABIN WAS, as the road leading to it suggested, deep in the woods. Perched on a creek bank and miles away from Piney Woods. Miles away from basically anything actually. As long as Ernie stuck by his word, Meg could live with the situation for long enough to pull together a workable plan.

They’d stopped at a convenience store and grabbed a few things well ahead of arriving in this area, paying cash. A quick call from the store’s landline to Ernie took care of a few loose ends and garnered a bit of an update. But she made sure Griff gave his friend the least amount of information necessary. Not that Meg expected Lorenzo to have access to someone inside the Hamilton County Sheriff’s Department, but she couldn’t be sure of anything. The man had money and power, and he was the epitome of ruthless. He wanted Meg nearly as much as he wanted his next breath. She doubted the scumbag had ever wanted anyone dead as badly as he wanted her that way.

The cabin’s front door opened, and Meg jumped in spite of knowing that it was only Griff.

“I parked the truck behind the cabin.”

So far, Griff hadn’t asked any additional questions and he’d cooperated without hesitation. She imagined that would change as soon as the initial shock and denial had worn off. There was a lot she wanted to tell him, but she still wasn’t sure it was the right thing to do.

And even if it was safe to do so, how did you walk back more than a year and multiple layers of subterfuge? She had lied to him repeatedly. Nothing about the tale she’d spun had been true. Well, except for growing up in Bakersfield on a farm and her love of animals. All of that had been the truth.

“Thanks.” For however long it lasted, she genuinely appreciated his help.

They should eat. That would buy her some time before he thought of more questions and would hopefully calm her jangling nerves. Bologna sandwiches had never been among her favorites, but the selections at the convenience store hadn’t been that great. She could eat a dead rat if it was roasted just right—if the need arose. She’d only had to do that once. She doubted sharing the experience would help her build her case about not being a ruthless assassin.

Since Griff leaned against the counter saying nothing, she opted to take the initiative. She removed the bologna from the fridge, where she’d stored it only moments ago. Next, she grabbed the mayo and mustard and bread. A couple of soft drinks and chips.

He watched as she prepared the plates. The cabin’s kitchen area, which was actually a corner in the main room, was well stocked as far as dishes and utensils, pans and dry and canned goods were concerned. There was electricity and running water, including hot water. So, not so rustic as far as the necessities were concerned. A bathroom with a shower. But only one bed that stood in another corner of the big room.

This should be an interesting night. The way she saw it, her biggest problem would be not allowing her desperation to guide her. Desperation never led to anything good.

Her gaze landed on the man who complicated an already complex situation even more. In more ways than he could fathom.

“We should eat,” she suggested as she pulled out a chair.

He moved away from the counter and took the seat across from her. They ate. No talking. Just eating, drinking and glancing at each other and then away. It was somehow disturbing and yet oddly sensual.

When he’d eaten every morsel on his plate, he pushed it away and stared directly into her eyes. “Who are you?”

She downed the last of her drink. Made a decision. “I can’t tell you all you want to know because that information could be a problem for you later. I don’t want to create more problems for you.”

“I’ve got Lonnie taking care of my animals and Ernie keeping watch for any new arrivals in town,” Griff said.

Ernie had agreed to covertly inform Jodie to close up shop and lay low for a few days.

With that one call she and Griff had done things they hadn’t wanted to do. The difference was that this was her problem, not his. The steps he had taken were out of the goodness of his heart, not necessity.

She owed him for giving her the benefit of the doubt.

“You owe me the truth.”

He’d read her mind. “You’re right.” She stood, stacked their plates and headed to the sink. She washed the plates and the utensils she’d used to make the sandwiches, then dried her hands and turned to face him.

He waited, still seated at the table, watching her every move.

“My name, like I already told you, is Eleanor, Elle. I’m from Bakersfield, California. Both my parents are dead, just like I told you before. I have no siblings. No ex-husbands or serious relationships. All the things I told you about my personal life were true. I grew up on a farm, etcetera.”

“You lied about everything else,” he countered. The distrust and disappointment in his voice and expression was a punch to the gut.

“Only about my career. Everything else was all true.”

“Is your former career the reason these people came after you?”

She nodded. “The man they work for is very powerful. If you believe in heaven and hell, good and evil, then he’s the devil. The one you heard stories about as a kid.”

“What does that mean exactly? The devil?” Griff’s voice warned that she’d lost ground with the analogy.

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