Page 17 of One Last Promise

“Start at the beginning.” This from Flynn, who currently worked in the Investigative Support Unit of the Anchorage Police Department, her job mostly in the area of hunting down robbery suspects, vehicle hijackers, and, conveniently, kidnappers.

Flynn slid onto a stool at the counter and pulled another out for Tillie, patted it. She kept her voice soft, and it could be why Tillie sat down. Boo picked up the ice pack and handed it to her, and Tillie obeyed.

The small action had everyone breathing again, or so it seemed, because Axel walked over to stand behindFlynn, and Oaken perched on the arm of one of Moose’s leather sofas. London stayed by the door, arms folded, Shep standing nearby.

“I . . . uh . . .” Tillie glanced at Moose, an expression in her beautiful brown eyes that he didn’t recognize. She’d always exuded a sort of calm confidence, even the time he’d managed to cajole her into sitting down with him, chatting about their lives.

Um, not a mention of terror in her life. He could hardly breathe through the fist in his chest.

She looked at Flynn. “My sister and I moved here from Florida. Miami. And when we came, we, uh . . . we emptied our joint savings account. About a hundred thousand dollars.”

“That’s a lot of savings,” Shep said.

She glanced at him, back to Flynn. “We were running from her . . . ex. Who is . . . not a great guy, and who thought the money should belong to him.”

Moose mentally added that to his list of questions. But really, they had no time. “He followed you here?”

She looked at him. “Yes.”

“What happened to the money?” Axel asked.

“It . . . some of it went to pay for my sister’s cancer treatment. It was . . . experimental, and . . . it did work, for a while, at least.” She looked away, sighed, and when she met Flynn’s gaze again, her eyes were glossy. “She passed away three years ago.”

More silence.

“I’m sorry,” Moose said softly.

Tillie nodded. “Thanks. Um, but now . . . I don’t have the full amount. And the rest of it is . . .”

“In the bank?” Oaken said.

“Under my patio.”

Moose raised an eyebrow.

She set the ice pack down again. “Rigger showed up about a month ago at the diner, looking for me.I don’t know how he found me—maybe he followed me to work. I panicked and ran. Hazel was staying at a sitter’s house, so I grabbed her and . . . hid.”

Moose tried not to narrow his eyes, but . . . why?

“I have a friend here—an ex-cop who was down in the lower forty-eight visiting her family. She got back a few days ago, so I brought Hazel there, hoping . . .” She blew out a breath. “We thought if I had the money—what was left of it—then I could offer it to him and he’d . . .”

“Leave?” Flynn said. “Just like that?”

“I don’t know! I just know he’s . . . he’s dangerous.”

“He did that to you?” Axel said, pointing to her face.

“Yes.”

Moose looked away from her, swallowing hard. He usually had a pretty good handle on his emotions, but . . .

“I don’t know if Rigger was waiting for me or what, but when I went to the house, he’d set the playset on fire. We have cameras on the front of the house, so maybe he thought I’d come home.”

“Which you did.”

“I didn’t know he was there?—”

“Why didn’t you call the police?” Flynn asked.

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