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The driver pulls up to my temporary home. Nestled in the mountains in South Lake Tahoe, California, the cabin sits surrounded by a variety of rich green trees. Cabin might be a stretch. The rental has a modern vibe, although it doesn’t look out of place among the scenery.
“I’ll get your luggage.” The driver parks, gathers my stuff from the trunk, and sets it beside me.
“Thanks.”
“No problem. Have a great day.” He gets in his car and pulls away.
I tip him on my app, then carry Itty-bitty into the house before she gets cold. Snow falls from the sky and adds to the thick blanket of white covering the ground. I follow the cleared walkway to the front door and unlock it with the code.
Like the outside, a modern cabin greets me with soaring ceilings and an open floor plan. It’s not at all like the rustic cabin I’m interested in buying, which happens to be a mile from here, but it’s home—for now.
Itty-bitty lets out a sleepy meow.
“Hey, girl. Are you awake finally?” I put her carrier on the leather sectional and open it for her to come out.
Hesitant, she looks around and peeks her head out of the case.
“It’s okay, little girl. This is your new home.” I pet her head, ignoring the ache in my chest that formed the moment I left Gigi’s estate. If the pain had a name, it’d be called Nova.
Itty-bitty stretches her legs as she exits the carrier, sniffing the couch and spying her new home with curious eyes. I have the urge to record her on my phone so I can share it with Nova later. I want to tell her where I am and how I am. Mostly, I want to hear her voice and know if she’s okay or if she feels a similar ache since I left.
The silence reminds me that I’m alone. I find the remote and turn on the flat screen above the fireplace, just to hear other voices.
Itty-bitty jumps to the floor and smells the rug.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell her and get my luggage from outside, where the driver left it.
I open one of the suitcases on the floor and remove the bag of supplies Nova packed for me. Inside, a sandwich bag holds at least three days’ worth of food. I’ll need to order more as soon as possible.
In the adjoining kitchen, I find two bowls, filling one with food and the other with water. I set them near the end of the counter where it meets the great room so Itty-bitty can find them easily.
“Here you go, little girl.” I make sure she hears the food pellets hitting the bowl.
She darts around the corner of the sectional, charging me and the food. Wow. She snaps back quickly.
Again, I have the urge to text Nova and tell her all about it. I’m sure she’s concerned about Itty-bitty and how she did on the flight. Maybe I should text her just to let her know Itty-bitty is fine.
Old warnings surface in my mind from when I first went into hiding.
Contact with anyone puts them in potential harm.
If you care about them, leave them alone.
Agent Keller had said a few more back when he first placed me in witness protection, but I can only remember the two.
It was easier being in hiding the first time. I was too afraid to even look out a window for a while. The desire to contact anyone other than Nathan wasn’t there. This, isolation by choice, for the right reasons, feels harder.
That pain in my chest deepens every time I look at Itty-bitty, which makes me think of Nova.
“It’ll go away,” I tell myself and stroke the small cat from head to tail.
My phone vibrates in my pocket.
I stand and snatch it from my pants.
Cooper: Checking in. Send me your info when you can, and I’ll have the security system and house cameras linked to your phone for access. Remember, you can always send me an alert text and I can follow the same protocol as before. Take care.