Page 14 of One Last Promise

“Ma’am?”

Air, she needed . . .air. Pushing outside, she gulped in the night, the fragrance of pine and a little diesel and the sense that she was so far out of her element . . .

More than air, she needed rescue.

The woman from the bathroom came out. Stopped. “Honey? Let me help you.”

Tillie looked at her, her gaze on her sweatshirt, and then gave a painful, dark laugh. “Seriously?” Her eyes filled. “Can I . . . can I borrow your cell phone?”

The woman frowned.

“I need to look up an address.”

The woman pulled out her phone, and Tillie pulled the paper from her pocket and keyed in the address. Read the directions up Highway 1 and over to the Old Glenn Highway.

From there, she would go past Lookout Point, then take a left on River Drive.

She could find it from there. “Thanks.” She handed back the phone, dangerously closeto unravelling.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to call someone?”

“No. I . . . I think, I hope I’ve figured it out.”Please.

And yeah, it might be stupid, but the fact was, Moose might be exactly the answer. Get the money, give it to Rigger, then talk Moose into flying her and Hazel far, far away. Off-the-map kind of far away.

Maybe then they’d all live through this.

Maybe. But clearly she was in over her head, and suddenly, the idea of finding Moose simply clung to her. As if he’d somehow materialized out of the night and right into her brain. Or heart.Whatever.

She got into her car, closed her eyes as if—praying?—and the stupid Ford turned over, acting as if it hadn’t quit on her during her time of need. Pulling out, she imprinted the map in her head and headed toward the highway.

This was not a bad idea.

Moose was her friend. He cared.

See, this was not a bad idea.

He’d come looking for her, for Pete’s sake, at the diner, had left his address behind like a calling card. And indeed, it read,Find me if you need me.

This was not a bad idea!

She turned off the Glenn Highway just as the sun winked out, leaving a pall over the land. The forest closed in, the river to the east, below the ridge, the road winding along the top, and mountains rising to the west. A wild, untamed land.

A place she could still get lost in, with Hazel.

Please!

She turned left on River Drive and began searching for his house number as the route led her closer to the Knik River.

Beautiful homes back here, some log, some timber-framed, many with green tin roofs, long drives, lamplightalong porches, evergreens and golden aspen and red maple trees, the sense of luxury and a life without trouble.

No one hunting these people down, kidnapping?—

She brushed away the moisture under her eyes. This was not a bad idea. . . .

A sleek black mailbox with bronze letters listed his address, and she slowed. No gate, but the long gravel driveway suggested it sat on the river’s edge, with a view.

This was not . . .

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