Page 6 of One Last Stand

“I’m working on it. In the meantime, I’d be much happier if you were back at the mansion?—”

“No. That life is done. I’m not that person anymore.”

“This life is who you are.”

She drew in a breath.

“Don’t make me come back there.”

London’s mouth tightened. “I didn’t need you the first time.”

A laugh, small, that had nothing to do with humor and everything to do with reality. “Maybe not. Keep in touch. I need to know where you land. And, Laney . . .assurgo.”

Right. “Assurgo.”

Ziggy hung up.

The word echoed in London’s mind. The Black Swan motto—Stand up and soar.

She sighed. No, she was in this alone.

Now, she got out and stretched as Shep piled the rest of his gear into the back end of his SUV. Just two rows over, but he didn’t have a hope of recognizing her with her long black wig, sunglasses, knit cap, and white puffer jacket, Uggs.

She looked like a snow bunny, and as he turned her direction, she made to wave at someone behind him, blowing that imaginary someone a kiss.

Her heart burned as he turned away.

Yeah, maybe it was time to say goodbye.

He got into his Tahoe, and she waited until he’d pulled out, a couple other cars behind him, before she followed. She knew the way to his townhouse—down the road and up the highway from the ski hill. A gorgeous modern townhome that he’d self-remodeled a couple years ago, before she got here.

She’d seen the realtor come and go, twice, and it had knotted her gut.

Don’t run, Shep.

Right. Pot, meet kettle. But he had a life here. Or he had. Until she’d so perfectly destroyed it.

They crossed the bridge over Glacier Creek, a tourist way-stop, where a family had stopped in their ski gear to snap the glorious view of the setting sun off Mt. Alyeska with its deep runnels and sharp ridges, soaring peaks against the deep-blue sky.

She’d really hoped to hide here forever.

His Tahoe continued south to the highway, then north some fifteen minutes, and finally turned into a subdivision with a line of townhomes built into a mountainside overlooking the sound. Down here, closer to sea level, the snow hadn’t lingered, just lightly dusting the yards. Winter had come early, the days growing shorter, dusky at four p.m.

Shep parked in his driveway, and when his motion-sensor light blinked on, she drove past, up the road, where she turned and headed back down again to park in the shadows.

Another long, cold night where panic drove her to scrutinize every movement.

“Really, Laney, it’s time.”

Her heart lodged in her chest as he closed his garage door. Then she pulled up her phone and opened the app.

Yep, she’d turned full-out stalker, watching him climb the stairs to his main floor dressed in his stocking feet and long johns. He went into the kitchen, and she lost him from view—her camera only caught the main area, which included the front door and the sliding door out to his deck. Any more and she couldn’t justify invading his privacy.

Whatever. She despised the lies she told herself in this version of her life.

He returned into view with a mug of hot cocoa. Climbed onto a stool and stared into the mug.

Just stared.

---