Page 19 of One Last Stand

How much had he told this woman about them?Sheesh—he knew her past, or at least enough to keep her secret.

Although, maybe that had been his way of . . .what? Protecting her?Always better to hold on to a piece of truth. “Yeah. We knew each other as kids—our extended families lived in the same town. We met when we were both visiting and went to the same summer camp.”

So long ago she should have forgotten that. Except Shep Watson had always been a little hard to forget. And the world was so terribly small. They’d met again in, of all places, an avalanche in Switzerland.“I thought that was you—and couldn’t help but follow you down . . .”His words, spoken in the darkness of their prison, trying to keep them both awake as hypothermia set in.

The beginning of the death of Laney Steele.

“And then you ended up here,” Jasmine said. The dog had rolled over and given up all dignity by exposing its underbelly, its tongue hanging out of its mouth. Jasmine scratched his belly with both hands.

“Shep reached out—I was working overseas and needed a change,” London said. Again, true, but oh, such a skim over the top. But she didn’t owe Jasmine any information.

Jasmine got up. “Do you know when he’ll be back? I actually was hoping that he’d come over and help me hang my new television set.”

Right.

And now she got it—the probe. The girlfriend question. The dig into her background. Jasmine had her sights on Shep.

The prick in her side deepened, cut into her heart. But what right did she have to hold on to him? This Jasmine woman was . . . nice. The kind of nice woman that Shep deserved. “I don’t know. But maybe . . . leave him a note?”

After all, London could hardly deliver that information. And it occurred to her then that maybe he was out running. He usually exercised in the weight room at the Tooth. So yeah, she needed to skedaddle.

“Oh, good idea, thanks.”

London walked over to the kitchen, pulled out a drawer—she’d seen him pull pens and Post-its from it—and found paper and a pen.

Turned.

Jasmine had picked up an envelope from the island. “Who is Ziggy?”

London froze.

Jasmine handed her the envelope. Handwriting, in crisp, European-style script, on the back.Ziggy will know where to find me. Get the card. Can’t wait to see you.T.

London stared at it. Managed to keep her hand from shaking.

No.No. . . But her insides curdled as she reread the message even as Jasmine scribbled out a note to Shep.

This couldn’t be right?—

“You okay?”

London looked up.

“You look like . . . okay, I know this sounds weird, but like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Oh, um . . .”Yes, most definitely a ghost. “No. I just realized that I’m late for a birthday party.”

As in her own. The rebirth of Laney Steele. “I’m meeting Shep there, and I totally forgot.”

Jasmine’s smile tightened. “Right.”

And then . . . “Um, do you have . . . I mean . . . I’m not sure when we’ll be back.” She glanced at the dog. “Do you think?—”

“You want me to check in on Lewie?”

“I—”

“I have the code. I just didn’t use it. But sure.” She patted the dog’s head. “I’m so glad that Shep has a friend. I get a little worried about him—especially lately.” She looked up. “He’s seemed pretty down. I thought you two had broken up.”