We did as he suggested and when we crossed near the stable, we could see the rogues waiting in shadows where they could see the entrance to the inn. L...sa and I slipped out of town and into the woods. We agreed not to have a fire, just in case they were watching the woods. We huddled beneath our blanket in a tree not far from our lean-to.It seems our extra precaution was not necessary. We didn't see or hear anything creeping around all night and spent an uncomfortable time trying not to fall out. Closer examination of the car revealed her purse, which had been hidden from view under her. The vehicle registration and her drivers license indicated she was Sharon Weathers, thirty five years old, living at an exclusive address off Michigan Avenue. She had business cards that identified her as the Marketing Vice President for a large national corporation headquartered in our city. Talk about a high stress job.Forensics would finish their work and tow the car to their storage/examination. I loved the crap out of her but sometimes, she was too much.Evening was setting in and I wanted some fresh air before calling it a night. The deck was the perfect spot. Out on it, I turned on the little propane tabletop fire feature that sat on the table. It added ambiance and some residual warmth. My red hydro flask water bottle sat next to it.As I sat down, I pulled my hair out of the ponytail it was usually in and slipped the hair tie on my wrist. I heard the sliding glass doors downstairs. Sarah Lamb was the daughter of a rich Eugene family. She was tall and lithe with a well developed figure and an aristocratic face. He went inside, told her what had happened. She jumped into his arms and wrapped her legs around him. ‘You’re the man’, she said in a simple way. They showered together and an hour later he emerged from the trailer with a tie-dye shirt, ripped jeans and a fancy pair of new running shoes. However casually he dressed, he was always careful to take good care of his.
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