By Catherin Elizabet Belle
Liam returns from the living room where he left his pack. As Connie turns, she sees his gun stuck in his pants. With a hint of irony she asks. “You gonna shoot me now?” With a solemn look on his countenance he jokes, “Nah! You’re not on my hit list.” He watches sheer panic spread across Connie’s face and her body stiffens. She turns back to the bacon sizzling on the stove. What the hell did I say? She turned pale as new snow.
Connie feels her panic rising and struggles to quell the memories racing to the fore front of her mind. Memories she thought had died in the last four years of solitude here in her haven. She’ll never be rid of the fear of being found and having to run again. Where else could she hide? Even the feds couldn’t keep her safe. Will she ever be free? Question after question races through her mind with no answers. She takes a deep breath as sanity returns. If he were here to kill me he’d have left me lying in the rain and mud to die.