Free Closer Home by Kerry Anne King Page B

dawning horror. Of course it’s good to feed the orphans, but even I can see that a gathering like this has nothing to do with charity.
    “Ricken just said we had people coming for dinner.”
    “Right. He’s afraid you’ll say no. Just watch. Hairdresser will show up any minute now. And a makeup artist. They’ll have a whole wardrobe planned for you.” She tilts her head to one side. “Something elegant but with hints of country. Anything that will make you look like Mom only increases the human-interest angle. Seen stuff like this a thousand times. House will be full of paparazzi.”
    She’s got her window open, the suitcase balanced on the ledge.
    Again my mouth opens and words come out. “Let me go with you.”
    She freezes, then turns to look at me.
    “What?”
    “I want to go with you. I can help.”
    “You’re running away. Admit it.”
    “Like you’re not? All right. Yes. I’m running away.”
    She hesitates. “Shadow’s still coming.”
    I sigh. “All right. You and me and Shadow. All good?”
    “After you.” She gestures toward the window.
    My throat feels dry, my pulse thunders in my ears. I was five the first time Mom left me in charge of my two-year-old sister. I never had a chance to do something crazy and irresponsible. I’m terrified and excited in equal measure.
    “Don’t I get to pack a bag?”
    “Now or never. If you leave the room, maybe you’ll send the cops after me.”
    “Then come with me. We’ll walk out the door together like civilized people.”
    “And when Ricken sees us? Or the maid, or anybody? Now you’re forgetting the camera people. Either you’re in or you’re out.”
    This isn’t sane, I tell myself. I’ve got a credit card wallet in the pocket of my jeans. I’ve left my purse in my room. My phone is on the nightstand.
    Dale will be calling.
    At first that thought pulls at me, and then, my heart plummeting into my belly, I remember the tabloids. I don’t want to talk to Dale. Not now, not yet. And I sure as hell don’t want to attend Ricken’s little soirée. Or make a decision about the contracts.
    Before reason has time to catch up with me, I’m sitting on the window ledge, poised between fates. A deep breath, and I swing my legs through the window and take the leap, old enough to know that for every such act of rebellion, there must always be consequences.
    For once, I’ve decided I don’t care.

CHAPTER FOUR
    One thing is sure and certain. Never before in all my born days have I traipsed directly up to the ticket counter in an airport and asked for tickets for the first flight out.
    I stand beside Ariel, my stomach doing queasy flip-flops, my left hand fisted to try to stop the electricity that persists in zapping through it. Traveling light is one thing. What in hell was I thinking, running off without so much as a suitcase or even my phone? Something could happen with my mom. Dale could be trying to reach me.
    Breathe, Lise. Focus on something else.
    Shadow lounges against the counter beside me, watching not the proceedings but the constant stream of people dragging their luggage in through the doors. Some of them form into a line behind us or go to other counters. Some head straight for the TSA.
    “I’ve got a flight to Portland at two o’clock,” the woman behind the counter tells us, her fingers tapping the keyboard as she speaks. “How many?”
    It’s noon now. I figure two is about perfect.
    Ariel has other ideas. “Anything sooner?”
    A furrow appears between the perfectly penciled brows. Tap, tap, tap. “Well, there is a one o’clock, but it’s booked. You could try standby.”
    “What about first class?”
    The woman glances up from the monitor for the first time, really looking at Ariel, then me, and finally Shadow. “I can check.” Her voice sounds doubtful.
    “Do that,” Ariel says.
    “I can get you on flight 879 at 1:00 p.m.,” the woman says. “If you can get through TSA in time.”
    “We’ll take it.”
    “Hang