Page 9 of One Last Stand

Movement flickered across one of the outside views on her phone, and she clicked on the window. It opened.

Nothing in the grainy picture—but she’d seen a shadow, she knew it.

From the glove box, she pulled out the tiny Glock Gen5, G47, a nine mil that should do the job—a parting gift from Ziggy. London hadn’t asked any questions.

She’d already shed her white jacket, wearing just her black thermal shirt, and now she turned her hat black side out and slid out of the car, no dome light.

She crept down the street, in the shadows along the ditch. Crossed over to Shep’s driveway, dodging the motion-detector lights.

In her car, her phone would be pinging desperately.

She circled around to the back and then crouched near his deck—jutting from the side, visible from the road for anyone else who might be watching. A grill under a tarp sat against the far edge, a sofa and a couple of outdoor chairs situated for a perfect view of the sound.

Movement. Something small—so not an assassin from the Orphans, unless they now employed seven-year-olds. But something . . .

Her body froze when a dog crept out from behind the grill. A garbage can with a lid had been knocked over, and now the dog sniffed near it. Found a bone and dragged it away, settling on the deck for a good gnaw. A bigger dog, black and skinny, its bones protruding from its body, poor thing.

Wait. She had some beef jerky in the car, a stakeout treat.

She backed away, worked her way back to her car, and retrieved the rest of the bag of jerky. Then she returned, her gun tucked into her belt, and crept up to the deck.

The dog looked up. Whined.

So, not an angry dog, just scared.

“It’s okay, buddy.” She crouched near the stairs and held out a piece of jerky. The animal had shifted back into the shadows near the grill, trapped as she stood at the only exit.

“C’mere. It’s okay.”

The dog’s eyes glowed gold in the darkness. She tossed the jerky toward him. It didn’t go very far, but the animal didn’t move.

Aw. “C’mon, sweetie. I’m not going to hurt you.” She pulled out another piece of jerky and then crept up onto the deck. She held the jerky out. “C’mon . . . it’s okay.”

The dog considered her, then hunkered down, submissive.

She took another step toward him.

He strained his neck and took the jerky from her.

Settled down to gnaw at it.

“You’re just hungry.” She took out another piece of jerky and stood up.

Just like that, light bathed the porch. Rookie mistake. She spotted the motion detector light, set high enough to detect a human but not an animal.

Dropping the jerky, she took off around the back of the house, alongside the driveway, and then back into her car.

Right then, he stepped out of his townhouse onto the side deck, into the light.

So he hadn’t been asleep. Just staring into the darkness. Again.

He crouched and, as her throat thickened, picked up her dropped jerky. Looked out into the night.

She sank down, even though her car sat hooded in darkness.

Now, tell him now.

But then Shep turned to the dog and fed it. He disappeared into the house and came out with a bowl of water and what looked like steak. As she watched, Shep coaxed the animal into his arms.

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