Evan studied me for a moment and then dropped his hand. “I’ll get your stuff.”
I headed toward the station wagon a few spots down. Opening the back door, I got Cady situated while Evan loaded our bags. I slid behind the wheel and picked up the black wig. It was so different from my vibrant red hair, but I guessed that was the point. Pulling it on, I slipped the sunglasses into place.
Evan watched as I carefully pulled out of the parking spot. The gas and brake were stickier than my sedan, but I’d have plenty of hours to get used to the vehicle.
I lifted my hand in a wave that Evan answered. Then, swallowing hard, I headed for the parking garage exit. The mall’s structure was already filling up on the higher levels, and I was thankful for the cover. I’d learned the hard way that you never knew who might be watching.
I held my breath as I pulled out into the sunlight. I didn’t release it until I was two blocks away. My lips moved in a muttered prayer—maybe a mantra. “Please let us be okay. Please let us be free.”
But if there was one thing I knew, it was that John’s fingers had a far reach. And they could steal the breath right out of your lungs.
1
ASPEN
FIVE YEARS LATER
“Mama!” Cady yelled, flinging her arms wide as she ran out of the elementary school. “It’s snowing!”
Her glittery, off-brand Uggs weren’t exactly protecting her from the wetness, but this storm had come on unexpectedly. In our small town nestled in the mountains of Washington, getting the occasional dump in October wasn’t unusual. Sometimes, we even got some in September. But we typically had a bit of warning.
Cady spun in a circle, tipping her head back and trying to catch snowflakes on her tongue.
My heart squeezed. She was everything good in this world—a walking, talking beacon of hope. “Come on, Katydid. Let’s get going before your nose freezes.”
Cady’s best friend, Charlie, laughed. “Dad says it takes at least a couple of hours for frostbite to set in.”
I pressed my lips together to keep from chuckling. “Good to know.”
“See you tomorrow,” Charlie called as he ran toward the SUV with the police emblem on its side.
I waved at his dad, Lawson, behind the wheel. He lifted his hand in answer.
“Can we make snowmen when we get home?” Cady begged as I hustled her toward my station wagon.
“Depends how much snow we get.”
But given that a good three inches were already on the ground, I had a feeling we would be in snowman city.
I opened the back door for Cady, and she slid in. “I’d say there’s enough for snow cones already.”
Her green eyes lit up as a grin split her face. “Can we make mine strawberry?”
“What do you think?”
“Strawberries and cream!” Cady yelled and held up her hand.
I laughed and high-fived it. “Let’s go home, and then we can get started.”
I just hoped my station wagon would get us there. I needed to replace the tires. I’d known it months ago but thought I’d have time. Unfortunately, an early dose of winter waited for no one.
Climbing behind the wheel, I started it up and turned on the heat as high as it would go. Cady chattered on and on about her day, but I stayed focused on the roads. The elementary school was on the outskirts of downtown Cedar Ridge, not too far from The Brew, the coffee shop and café I managed.
I followed Main Street through town. Usually, I let myself take in the quaint tourist shops, restaurants, and the gorgeous lake that peeked out from between the buildings. But not today. Even five years into my life in Cedar Ridge, I still wasn’t used to driving in the snow.
“It’s so pretty,” Cady said with a sigh.
My hands loosened on the wheel a fraction. “It is.”
Something about the blanket of white stretched out around us was incredibly peaceful. It reminded me how much I loved living here. But it was more than the beauty that surrounded us. It was the people. Even though my friends here might not know my past, they loved and supported us with everything they had.
My gaze flicked to the rearview mirror as I turned onto the road that would take us out of town. My habit of watching who might be following at any given moment had proven impossible to break.
I shifted my focus to Cady. “What do you think? Winter wonderland walk?”
She beamed. “Yes, yes, yeeeesss!”
“I don’t know. You don’t sound excited at all.”
“I’m excited!” She bounced in her seat as if to accentuate the point.
“Okay, I guess we can go.”
The typical ten-minute drive to our house at the base of the mountain took almost twenty, given how carefully I drove. I was thankful I’d gone to the supermarket yesterday because I had a feeling we might be holing up for a day or two.
The moment I pulled to a stop in front of the farmhouse, Cady was unbuckling her seat belt. “What about the goaties? And Mabel and Phineas? And—”
“I got them all in the barn before I picked you up,” I assured her.
“We gotta let Mabel out later. She loves the snow.”
I grinned as I slid out of the station wagon, my boots disappearing into the snow. One of our donkeys was crazy about fresh powder. She would zoom around her paddock like nothing you’d ever seen. But it was hard to get her back inside the barn afterward.
“Tomorrow, when the storm has stopped,” I told Cady.
She bounced on her toes. “I wonder if the ducks will like it.”
“They might.”
A customer at The Brew had told me about a mama duck with a broken wing on their property. She was worried the duck wouldn’t be able to protect herself and her babies from predators. So, I brought her to our place. Now, she was set up in the barn with a heat lamp and a play pool in one of the stalls. My hope was that the wing would heal with time, and then she’d be able to be on her own again. But until then, she and her babies had a safe place to stay.
Cady raced through the snow and up the steps, jumping from foot to foot on the front porch. “Let’s go!”
I laughed as I headed to join her, my gaze going to the tiny piece of wood I’d left jammed into the screen door. It was still there. I might not have been able to swing a fancy security system, but I’d learned ways to keep us safe.
Snagging the wood chip, I placed it on the windowsill and opened the three locks on the door. Cady was inside before I could blink. A deep woof sounded, and our dog bounded toward his best girl.
“Chauncey!” Cady giggled as the three-legged pup licked her cheek. “I missed you, too.”
“Come on, buddy,” I called, letting him out into the snow to do his business.
By the time we were back inside, Cady had donned her bright pink snow gear. I winced as I took her in. The pants were a little too short, and the jacket a bit tight. It looked like I would be doling out cash for new gear before the winter season hit us full steam. Sometimes, I could get two seasons out of Cady’s gear if I was lucky. But she’d had a growth spurt this year.