Page 31 of Morally Grey

I reach into my pocket and pull the bank card and Briar’s passport from inside. I shove them into her hands, then tighten my fists over hers so that she can’t give them back. “When you arrive at the airport in Russia?—”

“Grey, no. I’m not leaving without you.”

My grip tightens. “When you arrive at the airport, look for the man with a sign for the Robinsons. Go with him. He’ll take you to the village. I’ll join you as soon as I can.”

“We don’t have to split up. He’ll leave when he’s done looking through the house. I’ve already thought about it. When he finishes up in the?—”

“He isn’t here for me, Briar. He’s here for you.”

Her mouth closes, and her throat clicks as she swallows. The color drains from her face. “What?”

“I checked the cop car. There’s a computer in there that sometimes says why they’re out on a call, and this time, he’s here for a welfare check.”

“Well, yeah, to check on me in case?—”

“For Sid Williams. They’re here looking for your ex.”

She closes her eyes, and a tear trails down her cheek. “What do we do?”

“When the cop is gone, you take my car and drive to the small airport outside of town. You know the rest.”

“Why can’t I take my car? And how will you meet me?”

I close my eyes and shake my head. “I can’t go with you tonight, but I’ll meet you in Russia as soon as I can. Our tickets are at the Gregario Airlines counter.”

“Then I can’t go tonight either. Why don’t we meet?—”

But then we both hear the footfalls coming up the creaking basement steps. I lean forward and kiss Briar for what is probably the final time, and then I step into the light.

“Little pig, little pig, are you looking for me?” I shout.

The cop’s head whips upward, and his gaze meets mine. That’s my cue.

I turn and race for the cop car, then hurl myself inside. The keys are still in the ignition, so I reach forward, turn them, and take off down the driveway. I consider running lights and sirens, but I need to put some space between myself and certain doom. Certain doom will probably still discover me, but at least I’ve kept Briar safe.

That thought consoles me as I step on the gas and race into the night.

Epilogue

FOUR MONTHS LATER

Briar

Agentle breeze eases through my hair as I rock on the porch swing. Music plays from a radio aimed through the open window, but I don’t understand a single lyric. Despite living in Russia for months, I’ve yet to learn the language.

The village is small, just like Grey said it would be. Most of the inhabitants speak English, and we consider this tiny patch of land to be our own Russian version of America. Just without all the nonsense.

And without all the stores on every corner, among other American conveniences.

I smile as I look at my crusty chicken coop and struggling garden. Since coming here, I’ve had to learn to fend for myself in ways I never imagined, but hey, I’m debt free. Most of the money still sits in the bank account as well. This new way of life is incredibly inexpensive.

It’s also incredibly lonely.

I spend most of my day looking down the long dirt road that leads onto our property. And it isourproperty. Until theAmerican news agencies declare him dead, I will continue to think of everything as ours.

American news reaches this part of the world at a painfully slow pace, so it was weeks before I even learned what happened the night he took off in the cop car. After the officer commandeered my vehicle, Grey led them on a wild chase through backroads and forest country before finally abandoning the car and taking off on foot. They followed him as far as the Tamsen River Bridge, where he jumped into the frigid waters and never resurfaced.

But he will. If he had to swim the entire way to Russia, he’ll resurface.

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