Page 106 of One Last Promise

Off the main room was a kitchen, with ahandful of bedrooms on the other side. Stairs led to a lofted bedroom, the master that overlooked the great room, situated over the kitchen.

“This is nice,” Flynn said. “It belongs to a friend?”

“Not anymore,” Moose said. “Technically, it’s mine.”

Axel glanced at him, but he raised a shoulder. Truth. Even if he didn’t want to face it.

The stone fireplace in the great room lay cold, with logs piled on the raised hearth.

“What are we doing here, Moose?” This from Flynn, who seemed clearly done with playing along.

“Here we’re going to go over every detail of Tillie’s story about Matthew Lopez. Then we’re going to figure out how to prove it.”

“Moose—” Flynn started.

“Nope. Flynn, you’re smart. I know you can figure this out.”

He walked into the kitchen and opened the freezer. Frozen coho salmon dated just a few weeks ago. And trout. And in the cupboard, rice and canned vegetables. “Meanwhile, I will feed you.”

He walked back out into the room, looked at his team. “And then we’re all going to get a decent night’s sleep, for the love of Pete.”

Tillie smiled.

And it was as if he heard God speaking very, very clearly.

“Let not your heart be troubled.”

Yes. He’d just needed to get away for a moment, clear his head.

He smiled back. “I hope you guys like fish.”

It couldn’t be right to feel this . . . safe. This protected.

Even this happy.

Tillie sat on an Adirondack chair, drinking a cup of after-dinner hot cocoa, wrapped in a blanket she’d stolen from a basket in the great room, staring at the streak of remainingsunset that simmered over the mountains, jagged and whitened with the first whisper of snow.

So much beauty in a land filled with peril. And here she sat, tucked away from danger, warm and fed while Hazel . . .

Oh, Hazelnut. I’m sorry. Her eyes burned, and she blinked hard. She shouldn’t have gotten on the plane. But Moose . . .

But Moose. He’d become a force in her life that she simply couldn’t escape.

Even now, as the door to the cabin—ha, that was an understatement—opened and Moose came out onto the deck. He carried a cup and a blanket.

“Thanks for dinner,” she said as he sat on the other Adirondack chair, setting his cup on the wide arm.

He wore the blanket like a cape, very Superman, like Hazel said. The man had the devastatingly handsome looks of the man of steel, with his dark hair and gray-green eyes. And under that flannel shirt, probably a frame to match.

He wore jeans and boots and a wry smile as he settled into the chair. “My pleasure. I love a good grilled salmon.”

He’d done some magic with the frozen salmon, grilling it on a plank of wetted cedar. She’d half expected a grizzly to show up wondering why he hadn’t been invited.

“You’re quiet,” Moose said softly.

She closed her eyes. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“Where should you be? Jail? In your car, running and hiding?”

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