Page 13 of Peril in Piney Woods

Pine Boulevard

12:55 p.m.

Meg parked at the medical clinic and walked the block and a half back to her shop. Most of that distance, she kept to the woods behind the alley. Griff had lent her one of his trucks. He had several vehicles that sported the logo for Sundown Farms. Her own truck carried the Pampered Paws one, too easy for the reporters to spot.

It would have been better to avoid coming back for a few hours more, but she really could not stay with Griff any longer. At least not without the risk of crossing a line she did not need to cross. She’d learned to keep their alone time to small windows. Besides, Jodie and Dottie had finished for the day, and the boarded animals had been picked up. Meg could sequester herself to the second floor and just stay stashed away at least until tomorrow.

Sadly, three news vans were still parked in front of her shop, taking up customer parking. Except that it was Sunday and the shop was closed. No doubt at least one of the three would hang around for a long while despite Jodie and Dottie having left and no one else being inside—at least to their knowledge. The upside was that eventually all would give up and go away.

Keeping a close watch on the far end of the alley as well as the corner of her shop, Meg eased through the back gate and into the doggie playground. When she reached the back entrance of her shop, she waited for a while and just listened. The street was quiet at this hour since folks who lived in Piney Woods were either at home or church or gathering at the diner, which was open seven days a week. Some would be lunching or shopping in Chattanooga. The vague sound of chatter from the reporters apparently still hanging out on the sidewalk in front of her shop kept Meg on her toes.

She slipped her key into the lock, gave it a twist and hurried inside. She closed the door, disarmed the security system and locked the door once more. Again, she waited and listened. All quiet. Rather than risk having a look out front, she hustled up the back stairs. They were narrower and steeper, but they were perfect for a moment like this. There was a door at the bottom and at the top. Most people assumed the one on the first floor led to a closet or another room. When she opened the upper door, Raymond lifted his head and stared at her.

He lay at the top of the stairs, where he waited whenever she was away. From that vantage point, he could see her if she came up the main steps or the back ones. She was surprised he wasn’t still hanging near Pepper.

Meg squatted and held out her hand, and the old fellow got up and came over to greet her. She gave him a few rubs and a hug. “Hey, boy.” She smiled down at the animal to which she had grown far too attached. “We have things to do.”

Meg surveyed the studio where she had grown to feel at home. When she’d landed in Piney Woods, she really hadn’t expected to feel that way—so at home. Growing up an only child and then losing both her parents by the time she was thirty, she hadn’t expected to feel at home anywhere—not even in the place she’d lived since leaving for college sixteen years ago. She’d been comfortable in Los Angeles, but she’d never felt that same sort of hominess she’d felt in Bakersfield.

Funny how she’d ignored the idea for all those years.

When her mother had died, at least she’d still had her father. Then, just before her thirtieth birthday, her father’s heart attack had changed everything. The farm in Bakersfield had felt like a foreign land. She and her on-again-off-again boyfriend had parted ways. Her place in Los Angeles had felt like...a motel room—not that it ever really felt like home. A place to sleep and shower. Nothing more.

For two and a half years, she had existed in that numbing place. She’d worked and that was about it. Work had consumed her existence. Her tolerance for risk-taking had expanded into territory that more and more resembled carelessness, indifference. Her colleagues had noticed. She’d been warned more than once that she was dancing on an edge.

The warnings and the close calls hadn’t changed one thing.

And then came the final act—the end of her story as she knew it.

Meg pushed the thoughts aside. She’d done what she had to do. No going back now.

She opened the bottom drawer of the dresser where most of her clothes were stored. There wasn’t really a closet. Anything she wanted hanging did so from the three hooks she’d added to the wall. She removed the layer of socks and undershirts and lifted the false bottom she’d added.

Meg stared at the items she’d hidden there. A passport and driver’s license with another name—one she’d hoped not to ever have to use. Stacks of money for emergencies. Keys to the car she kept in a storage unit in town. And the key to the safety deposit box that contained the only proof of the whole truth—not that the truth would ever save her.

“You are beyond saving,” she muttered.

Raymond whimpered and eased closer to her. He sensed her distress. She hugged him and scratched him behind the ears. “Don’t worry, boy. I’ll make sure you and Pepper are taken care of.”

Meg thought of Griff. He would take care of them. She didn’t even have to ask.

She rounded up a backpack, threw in a couple of changes of underthings and an extra tee. She added the cash she kept on hand and the other items from her hidden compartment to the bottom of the bag.

“Just in case.” It was always better to be safe than sorry.

Moving with caution, she eased toward the front window and checked the street below. All but one of the news vans had left.

Good.

All she had to do was wait out the last one.

Until then, she did a final recon of her place. Made sure she hadn’t left anything incriminating. Not much she could do about the fingerprints and DNA. By the time anyone had analyzed all that, she would be long gone. The downside to having to take that step was that everyone she’d come to view as friends would then know she wasn’t who she’d said she was. She supposed that was better than just disappearing and leaving them to wonder.

Who was she kidding? The only person whose opinion mattered was Griff. She really hated the idea of him thinking badly of her. But that was inevitable at some point. Even if this whole business blew over without her being outed, he would continue to pursue a closer relationship, and she couldn’t allow that to happen. Eventually, he would grow tired of the effort and move on.

An ache pierced her. She closed her eyes and shook her head at the ridiculous reaction. How had she gotten so sloppy over the past twelve months or so?

Her parents had always warned that her internal clock would catch up to her. She hadn’t believed them. She had been all about her career. Work had become her life. Sex was just a perk—not something she intended to allow to guide her existence.

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