Chapter Four

Meg parked at the medical clinic and walked the block and a half back to her shop. Most of that distance, she kept to the woods behind the alley. Griff had lent her one of his trucks. He had several vehicles that sported the logo for Sundown Farms. Her own truck carried the Pampered Paws one, too easy for the reporters to spot.

It would have been better to avoid coming back for a few hours more, but she really could not stay with Griff any longer. At least not without the risk of crossing a line she did not need to cross. She'd learned to keep their alone time to small windows. Besides, Jodie and Dottie had finished for the day, and the boarded animals had been picked up. Meg could sequester herself to the second floor and just stay stashed away at least until tomorrow.

Sadly, three news vans were still parked in front of her shop, taking up customer parking. Except that it was Sunday and the shop was closed. No doubt at least one of the three would hang around for a long while despite Jodie and Dottie having left and no one else being inside—at least to their knowledge. The upside was that eventually all would give up and go away.

Keeping a close watch on the far end of the alley as well as the corner of her shop, Meg eased through the back gate and into the doggie playground. When she reached the back entrance of her shop, she waited for a while and just listened. The street was quiet at this hour since folks who lived in Piney Woods were either at home or church or gathering at the diner, which was open seven days a week. Some would be lunching or shopping in Chattanooga. The vague sound of chatter from the reporters apparently still hanging out on the sidewalk in front of her shop kept Meg on her toes.

She slipped her key into the lock, gave it a twist and hurried inside. She closed the door, disarmed the security system and locked the door once more. Again, she waited and listened. All quiet. Rather than risk having a look out front, she hustled up the back stairs. They were narrower and steeper, but they were perfect for a moment like this. There was a door at the bottom and at the top. Most people assumed the one on the first floor led to a closet or another room. When she opened the upper door, Raymond lifted his head and stared at her.

He lay at the top of the stairs, where he waited whenever she was away. From that vantage point, he could see her if she came up the main steps or the back ones. She was surprised he wasn't still hanging near Pepper.

Meg squatted and held out her hand, and the old fellow got up and came over to greet her. She gave him a few rubs and a hug. "Hey, boy." She smiled down at the animal to which she had grown far too attached. "We have things to do."

Meg surveyed the studio where she had grown to feel at home. When she'd landed in Piney Woods, she really hadn't expected to feel that way—so at home. Growing up an only child and then losing both her parents by the time she was thirty, she hadn't expected to feel at home anywhere—not even in the place she'd lived since leaving for college sixteen years ago. She'd been comfortable in Los Angeles, but she'd never felt that same sort of hominess she'd felt in Bakersfield.

Funny how she'd ignored the idea for all those years.

When her mother had died, at least she'd still had her father. Then, just before her thirtieth birthday, her father's heart attack had changed everything. The farm in Bakersfield had felt like a foreign land. She and her on-again-off-again boyfriend had parted ways. Her place in Los Angeles had felt like...a motel room—not that it ever really felt like home. A place to sleep and shower. Nothing more.

For two and a half years, she had existed in that numbing place. She'd worked and that was about it. Work had consumed her existence. Her tolerance for risk-taking had expanded into territory that more and more resembled carelessness, indifference. Her colleagues had noticed. She'd been warned more than once that she was dancing on an edge.

The warnings and the close calls hadn't changed one thing.

And then came the final act—the end of her story as she knew it.

Meg pushed the thoughts aside. She'd done what she had to do. No going back now.

She opened the bottom drawer of the dresser where most of her clothes were stored. There wasn't really a closet. Anything she wanted hanging did so from the three hooks she'd added to the wall. She removed the layer of socks and undershirts and lifted the false bottom she'd added.

Meg stared at the items she'd hidden there. A passport and driver's license with another name—one she'd hoped not to ever have to use. Stacks of money for emergencies. Keys to the car she kept in a storage unit in town. And the key to the safety deposit box that contained the only proof of the whole truth—not that the truth would ever save her.

"You are beyond saving," she muttered.

Raymond whimpered and eased closer to her. He sensed her distress. She hugged him and scratched him behind the ears. "Don't worry, boy. I'll make sure you and Pepper are taken care of."

Meg thought of Griff. He would take care of them. She didn't even have to ask.

She rounded up a backpack, threw in a couple of changes of underthings and an extra tee. She added the cash she kept on hand and the other items from her hidden compartment to the bottom of the bag.

"Just in case." It was always better to be safe than sorry.

Moving with caution, she eased toward the front window and checked the street below. All but one of the news vans had left.

Good.

All she had to do was wait out the last one.

Until then, she did a final recon of her place. Made sure she hadn't left anything incriminating. Not much she could do about the fingerprints and DNA. By the time anyone had analyzed all that, she would be long gone. The downside to having to take that step was that everyone she'd come to view as friends would then know she wasn't who she'd said she was. She supposed that was better than just disappearing and leaving them to wonder.

Who was she kidding? The only person whose opinion mattered was Griff. She really hated the idea of him thinking badly of her. But that was inevitable at some point. Even if this whole business blew over without her being outed, he would continue to pursue a closer relationship, and she couldn't allow that to happen. Eventually, he would grow tired of the effort and move on.

An ache pierced her. She closed her eyes and shook her head at the ridiculous reaction. How had she gotten so sloppy over the past twelve months or so?

Her parents had always warned that her internal clock would catch up to her. She hadn't believed them. She had been all about her career. Work had become her life. Sex was just a perk—not something she intended to allow to guide her existence.

As for kids, that was never going to happen. She could never ever put another human being in the line of fire. It was bad enough that she'd allowed Raymond to get attached to this life. But he would learn to be happy with Griff. The real trouble was with her learning to be happy without Griff.

Meg rolled her eyes. Though they had never even so much as kissed, she felt closer to him than any other man in her whole life—besides her dad, anyway. But that had been a whole different sort of connection. This thing with Griff was...

"Don't go there." Meg set her backpack next to the door that led down the backstairs.

Dissecting this thing she felt for Griff would be like poking needles in her eyes. Whatever this was, it was irrelevant. If she intended to stay alive and protect the people in her wake, she had to keep her head on straight.

One last pass through her desk, and she was satisfied she hadn't overlooked anything. She placed a letter for Jodie on top of her desk. Inside was the deed to the property and the title to her truck. Both of which Meg had signed over to her. Jodie was a young single mom and she had no one. Her parents were junkies who cared only about their next fix. Jodie was a good person. This place would give her a future she might otherwise have difficulty achieving.

Meg hadn't forgotten Dottie either. Dottie was a retired school teacher who simply loved animals. She had an adoring family and grown kids who were there for her. Dottie was set. Still, Meg appreciated her friendship, and she'd left her a tidy bonus for being a good friend. She'd always talked about wanting to take a cruise with her husband but refused to spend the money. The bonus would take care of several cruises without Dottie having to dip into her savings.

These things Meg left handy just in case. As long as she didn't have to disappear, she would put the items back into her hiding place until that status changed.

Meg made a clicking sound and motioned for Raymond to follow her. She needed to check on Pepper. Jodie would have fed her and let her outside for a while. But if Meg had to disappear, she didn't want to leave without saying goodbye to Pepper.

If she was really lucky all these preparations would be for naught. The next few days would pass, and the story would be forgotten by all but Jennifer and her family. Some other event would top the news, and Meg would just be a distant memory for any interested reporters.

But she couldn't risk not being prepared.

Preparation was the key to survival.

Pepper stood at the door to her kennel. She actually looked better today.

"Hey, girl." Meg opened the kennel and sat down on the floor. Raymond took a position next to her. Damn, she was going to miss this dog.

Pepper joined them, laying her head on Meg's lap. The three of them sat huddled together for a long while. Meg really didn't know how long. She opted not to look at her phone. Instead, she leaned against the wall and allowed her eyes to shutter. She had barely slept last night.

Her eyes drifted closed, and her mind wandered to the farm in Bakersfield, where she ran through the orchard. The air felt cool on her cheeks and her laughter echoed off the trees. She hadn't been home in so long...

DUSTROILINGINthe distance had Griff putting a hand over his eyes to see who was headed toward his place. The driveway was a long one, and anyone who'd gotten that far from the road was no doubt looking for him. Either that or they were lost.

Then he spotted the markings on the truck: Sheriff's Department. His pulse quickened. He hoped nothing new had come up with last night's trouble. Instinctively, he checked his cell to ensure he hadn't missed a call or text from Meg.

The truck pulled to a stop in front of his house, and he recognized the driver. Ernie.

Griff relaxed a little. He threw up a hand as he waited for Ernie to emerge from the vehicle and head his way.

"Afternoon," Griff said. "I'm afraid you're too late for lunch." He patted his stomach. "That peanut butter sandwich is long gone."

Ernie laughed. The two of them used to live on peanut butter sandwiches in the summer. Griff's mother warned they were going to go nutty if they didn't learn to like some other lunch besides those sandwiches. She'd finally persuaded them to add bananas. They had laughed and teased his mom that now they were going bananas. She had pretended not to be amused, but he'd seen her secret smiles.

"I could go for a cup of coffee," Ernie said with a grin. "I had lunch at the diner, and it was way better than a peanut butter sandwich."

"Lucky you." Griff hitched his head toward the house. "Come on in." He glanced at the laptop his friend carried. "What's with that?"

"Something I need to show you."

Maybe it was Griff's imagination, but his friend's face blanked and his tone turned serious. Whatever was up didn't seem to be good.

While Griff started a pot of coffee, Ernie settled at the kitchen table and placed the computer on its surface. One hand rested on the device as if he feared it might run off or vanish. He talked about the weather and the blind date he had agreed to on Saturday. Griff laughed and nodded at the right times, but nothing about this felt right.

When the coffee was brewed and cups were filled, Griff joined him at the table. "So, what's up?"

"I'm sure you've spoken with Meg about what happened last night."

"I did." Ernie was aware Griff had a thing for Meg. Ernie had been divorced for two years. He and Griff often discussed their relationship woes.

"How did she seem?" Ernie shrugged. "I mean, was she upset? Calm? What's your take on her reaction?"

Griff's unease escalated. "What's going on, Ernie? We've known each other for a long time. What's with the beating around the bush? If you've got something to say or to ask me, then just do it."

Ernie set his mug aside. "Something's off with Meg. I know how you feel about her and that the two of you are close, but I just have this bad feeling that there's something I'm missing."

Griff digested the words. "Okay. I saw her for a few minutes last night, and we had breakfast together this morning. She stayed awhile to avoid going back to her shop. A couple of reporters were hanging around." He shrugged. "She seemed fine. Last night she was a little shaken, but she was handling it well."

"That's the thing," Ernie said. "She's handling it really well. Even right after it happened, she was as calm as a cucumber. She'd just killed a man, and I would have expected her to be, at the very least, shaken up."

A hint of anger mingled with Griff's uneasiness. "What does that mean?"

Ernie held up both hands. "I'm not accusing her of anything, it's just odd. That's all I'm saying." He exhaled a big breath. "Look, we're like brothers, man. I'm just worried. There's something off, and I can't pretend I didn't pick up on it. I hardly slept last night for mulling this over. It just won't sit right with me, and my gut kept telling me that I needed to talk to you about it."

Griff felt a little irritated. "I've known Meg for about a year, and I've never seen her overreact to anything. Maybe she's just not the type that lets all her emotions show." He had to admit that being forced to kill someone to protect yourself was a big deal, but still, if hiding her emotions was her way, then it was possible...

Ernie just listened and said nothing, but his face told Griff the tale. This was not good.

Hell, Griff didn't understand how to excuse this, whatever it was. What he did get was that his friend was worried. Griff had known Ernie his whole life, if he had a bad feeling about this, it wasn't just his imagination.

"Explain it to me," Griff prompted.

"I wouldn't generally do this," Ernie said as he opened the laptop. "But I think this video explains it better than anything I can say."

"What is this?" Griff studied the screen, recognizing the inside of the Gas and Go.

"This is the video footage from the store's security cameras." Ernie looked straight at him. "It's a clip of what happened between Meg and the dead guy—Zyair Jones."

Griff nodded. "All right. Let's see it."

"I'm going to play it in slow motion. Otherwise you'll miss the things I need you to see, because it happens really fast."

Griff nodded. Ernie pressed Play and the video started.

The clarity wasn't the best, but it was good enough to see the intent on the guy's face. Gun in hand, he was walking toward the checkout counter, prepared to do whatever was necessary. The camera view showed Meg huddled at the end of the counter. Griff's chest constricted.

A scream echoed in the video.

Jones looked over his shoulder toward the back of the place.

Meg had moved ever so slightly to see what he was doing. Suddenly she sprang upward.

Jones turned back toward her.

She was already moving through the air like a ballet dancer. The knife she held sliced across the man's throat even as her body started to turn in midair.

Blood spurted.

The gun fired.

Meg hit the floor, right shoulder first.

Jones staggered, then crumpled to the floor.

Meg got up. She kicked the weapon away, and then, staring at the man, she backed a couple of steps away. The next instant, she turned toward the back of the store and started in that direction.

"That's pretty much what she told me happened," Griff said. His gut was in about fifty knots, and drawing in a breath was as difficult as hell. None of this he intended to let his friend know. His mind kept replaying that twirl, slice and dive maneuver.

Ernie nodded. "Same story she told me."

Griff studied the image on the screen of the paused video that showed Jones face down on the floor in a pool of his own blood and Meg midstride as she walked away. He looked to his friend. "So, what's the problem?"

Ernie scrubbed a hand over his jaw. "There are a couple of things. First, she kicked the gun away."

Griff shrugged. "Smart move. The guy could have grabbed for it as she walked away. If he wasn't dead, I mean."

"Except," Ernie countered, "she didn't appear concerned about him being able to do that since she didn't check to see if she'd completely disabled him. She didn't nudge him, check for a pulse, nothing. She just kicked the gun away from his reach and walked away. Like she knew for sure he was done."

Griff blinked. "Are you suggesting she didn't care that she'd killed this guy?" What the hell was he saying here?

Ernie held up his hands again to show he wasn't here for a fight. "I'm saying she understood that he was dead. She didn't need to check because she recognized the fact by the amount of blood or simply because of the blow she had landed."

Griff shook his head. "Okay, so then what's the problem?"

"There are two problems in my opinion. One," Ernie said, "she killed the guy—obviously in self-defense—and had no visible issue with having done so. I guess what I'm saying is if you had just killed a guy, wouldn't you have some sort of reaction?"

"I can see how it looks that way," Griff agreed, not wanting to sound as if he was talking against Meg. "But that doesn't mean she didn't have an issue. What we're looking at could be shock."

"Maybe," Ernie relented, frowning as if he hadn't considered that possibility.

"What's the other problem?" Griff couldn't keep the frustration out of his voice.

Ernie backed the video up just a little and let it play again, showing the part where she kicked the gun and headed toward the storeroom. "She kicked the gun without stopping to consider what to do with or about it. She just kicked it away." He pointed to the screen. "That was instinct. The kind of thing you do without thinking because you've done it a bunch of times before."

Confusion furrowed Griff's brow and signaled a distant headache there. "You saying she's an ex-cop?"

It was possible. She'd told Griff that she'd had a grooming service in Arizona before her father died and she'd decided on a change of venue. Maybe she had been a cop, and she just didn't want to talk about it.

"I'm saying," Ernie said slowly, "that she was either a cop or...or that she has killed before—" he held up his hands again before Griff could light into him "—and is familiar with the routine of doing the job."

"What the hell, Ernie?" Griff leaned back in his chair and stared at his lifelong friend. "You're suggesting she was not just some sort of killer—but one who had done it enough times to form habits, like kicking a weapon away. Like she was some serial killer or whatever, is that what you're saying?"

"You're taking me all wrong," Ernie argued. "I'm not saying she's a serial killer or something." He rolled his eyes. "My money is on cop."

Either way, worry nudged Griff at the idea. "Play it again."

Ernie started the clip over, once more in slow motion. This time, Griff focused on Meg's face. What he saw was focus, intent. What he did not see was fear or uncertainty.

Whether Meg was a cop or a killer, she had—without question—done this before.

The knots in his gut turned to stone.

But how was that possible? A hurricane of emotions whipped through him. He knew this woman. Had spent hours and hours with her. She loved animals. She loved life. She was one of the nicest people he'd ever met.

"One more time," Griff said, his words barely a whisper.

He had to be missing something. This could not be what it looked like.