Page 26 of One Last Promise

“If this guy really has her daughter—which it seems he does—that seems like a good reason.”

She leaned forward, brushing sand away. “Yeah. To save someone I loved, I might just give up everything too. Here, I think there’s a latch.” Picking up her phone, she shone her light on it.

He tried not to be shaken by her words and reached into the dirt. “It’s stuck.”

“Try the shovel.”

He put the shovel’s pointy end against the latch, used it as a lever, and the latch popped open.

He dropped the shovel, then knelt again, taking one edge as she took the other. They lifted the lid.

Inside lay another plastic bag. It held a box of some sort.

Shep reached in and took out the bag. Set it on the patio. A twist-tie secured it.

He untwisted it and reached in. Pulled out a hard-sided carry-on-sized suitcase. “Feels pretty light for a suitcasefilled with money.”

“And it’s not locked,” London said. “Weird.”

“Yeah.” He set it on the patio, and she knelt beside him as he found the zipper and unzipped it.

Lifted it open.

And he’d half expected it, but still, the sight of the empty case hit him like a punch.

He swallowed.

“This is bad,” London said.

He glanced over at her. She’d picked up her phone and now shed the light on the interior, as if confirming.

“There’s a note.” She reached in and picked up a folded piece of lined paper. Opened it. Frowned and handed it to Shep.

“It’s just a number.”

“Five digits, so it’s not a phone number,” said London. She took the paper back and turned it over. “There’s nothing else on it.”

Nearby, the dog barked again, and Shep jerked. “Let’s get out of here.”

She nodded. “Should we put the patio back together?”

A light flicked on across the backyard at the house over the fence, probably someone letting in the dog, but Shep was already on his feet. “Nope. Let’s go.”

He carried the suitcase, in case they’d missed something, the shovel in the other hand.

London got up, holding the paper. “We’ll google it in the car.”

Yeah, hopefully a long way from here. “And we need to text Moose an update.”

London headed out around the side of the house just as another car came down the street, its lights bathing the front yard.

Shep dropped the shovel and yanked her back, against him in the darkness, his arm going around her waist, holding her there.

For a second, he couldn’t breathe, watching the pickup drive by, feeling her molded against him again. Strong, lean, perfect.

Andthen she laughed.

Laughed.

---