Had they heard her?

Seen her?

Each struggling breath hurt, each knocking heartbeat reverberated from chest to temple. Images, one after another, whirled like a kaleidoscope of horror to clash and collided with other older images. Images she thought were long-buried. Now past and present blended in a motion-picture of terror.

She closed her eyes, nauseated by those images, those memories.

Will alone couldn't push her, couldn't force her feet to move, to retreat further from the massacre just around the corner. Any movement, any stray sound might alert the two men who were even now screaming names and curses at the homeless man they were beating to death.

Had they said her name? Did they think he knew her? Had she told him her name when she'd dropped him a twenty here and there over the past months?

No! She was imagining it. She had to separate the old from the new. They couldn't have found her. Not after all this time. Not after she had been so careful.

She tried, failing miserably, to close off sounds she remembered too well--the whack of a hard object meeting flesh, screams for mercy turned to moans, the gurgle of choking, and finally, horribly, the thud of an unconscious body hitting asphalt. She clamped teeth onto her bottom lip to lock in an answering scream.

Run!

She glanced left, then right, searching frantically for a way to escape, but the icy fingers of fear held her frozen in the darkened alleyway. Canyon-carving rivers of blood reverberated through her ears; rolling, crashing, gaining volume with each heartbeat, obliterating all other sound until she could no longer locate the source of danger.

Blouse and flesh ripped as she slid down the wall. Her head spun as she clasped her bent legs for support, settling her bottom on the cold wet ground. She rocked back and forth with jerky movements, fighting the fear. Waiting.

Time meant nothing.

Seconds? Minutes? An hour? How long had she sat there, emotionally lost, clutching her legs, waiting to be found?

She'd witnessed torture. Murder. Was that to be her fate? Ice cold sweat poured from her body, drenching clothes, chilling her skin. She barely registered the taste of iron hitting her tongue, but released the tooth-imprinting grip of her now bloodied lip.

She stayed frozen against the brick wall until the voices and scenes from the past faded completely. Until heartbeats and breathing calmed. Until fear receded enough for logic to kicked-in.

Light replaced darkness as dawn broke. A baby cried from several stories above. A woman's soothing song responded seconds later. Then silence.

Sirens from afar.

The steady beep of a garbage truck in the distance, then moving slowly closer, then moving away until near-silence--nothing but the sounds of an occasional vehicle.

Move! Pinpricks shot through both legs and feet as she elbowed her way up the wall, forcing her to remain immobile for a minute more. One tentatively step, then two, away from the assault site felt like a major accomplishment. The need to run hovered like a monster at her back but she couldn't, wouldn't, make a sound. Who knew where those men had gone--who knew if the man they had killed was their only intended victim or if they would kill anyone in their path, especially someone who might identify them.

Unless she had been their intended victim all along.

That thought stopped her cold. Then another hit with enough force to make her take a step back. What if the man wasn't dead--only severely injured? What if this was her fault and he was paying the price?

How could she leave him? How could she not?

Indecision held her immobile for only seconds before she slumped in defeat. There was only one thing to do. The right thing. She had to go back; had to look around the corner of the building to see if the thugs were gone. There was no choice but check to see if their victim still lived. She hoped with every ounce of her waning strength that the danger had passed. She wasn't so sure how she felt about the state of the victim.

If he had died she could just leave--anonymously call Nine Eleven--disappear from this nightmare altogether. Just carry on with the life she had so carefully constructed, or run if that was the only option. If he still lived, she would have to become involved. Emergency services would be needed. The police would want to question her, but worse, it could make the press, and the men who had done this could hear about it and pursue her.

But no, she couldn't think that way. There was no choice but to go back--to help if there was still a need, to participate. Anything less would make her as bad as those who'd attacked him.

Damn, how she hated to participate.

Participation would de-construct the life she had spent the last four years building. She would have to start over.

Again.

A new identity.

A new profession.

A new town.

Lilly Peach.

An odd choice for a new identity, she mused, but one she was determined to claim. The name, like the new town, had an innocent ring to it.

Legend.

Legend, Tennessee--a little corner of Mayberry RFD tucked in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains if the Chamber of Commerce pamphlet was accurate. Of course, no town was innocent, just as no person over the age of Twelve was innocent anymore.

She had learned that the hard way.

But the drive was just-plain-spectacular. Bright, bold, orange and rust, scarlet and plum, pink and yellow from time to time, and the sun shone on and through all those brilliantly dancing leaves sending beams of pure sunshine over the lush green grass. She wanted to concentrate on that--wallow in the shear beauty of it--not the losses she had experienced or the horrors she had witnessed. Not anything about a past she was resolved to leave behind forever.

Of course, she had thought that before back in Grayfield, Michigan, and before that, in Coconut Springs, Idaho. But this time she was going to stay on the down-low, keep to herself as much as possible, avoid all hints of danger. She would open a small store in one of the many vacant downtown shops the realtor had suggested, be polite but not overly friendly.

She grinned to herself in the visor's vanity mirror, still somewhat startled by her new reflection, amazed something as small as a nose job could completely alter one's appearance. It was a good look, one that eased the extremes of her ethic heritage and should help her to fit in better in the country setting of middle-America. At least she hoped so.

More than anything she just wanted to blend in. Like the realtor--a Mr. Martin McClain. Though she hadn't seen him yet, she could clearly picture him. With his musical country twang of a voice, he probably looked like Bo or Luke Duke from the original Duke's of Hazard TV show she'd watched on DVD while waiting for clearance to move. Of course, he could look like one of the lesser characters from that show, but that was okay, too. He would blend in with his setting, and so would she.

And he'd been incredibly nice--something that was entirely different from the figuratively cold shoulder attitude of many in the big city. But of course he would be nice. He wanted to rent and sell her things. The shop. A house. He'd even mentioned land where she could own horses if she was "of a mind." Of a mind. She loved that expression!

She had taken him up on the shop, one of many that fronted the bricked Main Street. There had been several available, he'd explained, as Legend was in the middle a of downtown revitalization project. She'd picked one from the town map he'd sent using eeny-meeny-miny-moe.

The store would be her excuse for moving to Legend, should anyone bother to ask. Besides, she had to make a living. The agency only gave her so much to get started on, though she'd been smarter this time. Having learned from experience, she emptied her savings before telling them she might have been compromised.

So she would have things to sell, or would have once she decided what it was she wanted to offer. She'd already used her degree to be a CPA and a factory supervisor. Crunching numbers was supposed to have kept her hidden. It hadn't. Working the drudgery of ten-hour shifts in the factory--a job she'd hated--might have, but after being caught up in the limelight of the battered man's story, her handler, Polly Chapman, had assured her Legend, Tennessee, was her best hope.

Polly came from Legend. Born and bred as she'd put it. She made Legend sound like paradise. Crimeless, short of teenager's drag-racing on Saturday nights, caught and sent home to their parents by a sheriff that knew or was related to each one personally. The officer didn't even need to carry a gun most of the time. More importantly, Polly assured her there was no safer place on earth for her, and then smiled a funny smile that left her wondering just what was so funny. She hadn't asked; just as she'd never asked anything more of the agency than to keep her alive.

Lilly exhaled heavily. She was tired of looking over her shoulder. Tired of running away from the past and toward the forever unknown. Tired of being afraid they would find her again and she would have to run again. Or worse, they would finally catch her and make her pay.

"No!"

Lilly closed her eyes for a second, and repeated the word, determined to believe she would somehow find freedom, safety. She didn't have the ability to live in anger and fear all the time and she had no desire to learn. She would get to this oasis in the belly of the South and she would live, just as she had attempted twice before. Only this time she would succeed.

She just had to.

Relief and a sense of awe had Lilly cruising down Main Street five miles below the twenty-five mile an hour speed limit. The Chamber's pamphlet hadn't done the town justice. Not even close. She tried to take in everything at once, but there was just so much.

Apparently the town's restoration had been underway for quite some time as only a couple shops had scaffolding. Gleaming plate glass windows and doors broke the continuous line of bricked buildings on either side of the wide Main Street. Along the white-sand concrete sidewalks sat large barrels of flowers in every imaginable color and pattern combination dancing happily in the late-afternoon breeze. Evenly spaced, like soldiers on guard, stood newly planted young trees, their tiny leaves changing for the season, their young trunks anchored against whatever Mother Nature sent their way.

Some of the storefronts had awnings. Probably the ones already occupied, Lilly decided, since the others seemed empty, although it was hard to be sure since the reflection of her car nearly eliminated the possibility of seeing inside.

People, young and old, walked alone, in couples, in family groups, from one shop to the next. Progress, it seemed, wasn't a goal, as time after time they stopped to talk to one another or to others they encountered along the way.

It was like nothing she'd ever seen. Like something out of a storybook. Like something she had always dreamed existed, but had never really believed.

And now it was hers.

She would make it hers.

Lilly reached the southern end of Main Street and turned east on First. She passed the feed store and lumber yard, a very large Baptist Church, and then Legend High School where a giant banner across the southern wall declared, Legend Dragons, Four Time State Champions.

Duly impressed, she pressed on, past highly wooded subdivisions, until she finally came to Lake Road. She glanced at the map she had all but memorized in the weeks waiting for clearance to leave the safe house. She was to turn left onto Lake Road, a two-lane road that completely encircled Legend Lake, meeting the toes of the Appalachian Mountains on the opposite shore.

A huge yawn took her by surprise. She covered her mouth and drove slowly, trying to see the lake between the trees and lakefront houses as the quickly vanishing daylight threw more shadow than light. Determined to check it out in the morning, she focused on her immediate destination, Legend's Landing Bed & Breakfast. Quickly enough, the pristine white picket fence Polly had told her to look for came into view.

She drove on until she came to the appropriately numbered mailbox, then driveway, where double gates stood open. Slowly, she made her way down the long forested lane, struck anew when the yellow clapboard Victorian cottage came into view.

The house radiated welcome with its warm yellow lights burning behind sheer covered windows. The extensively tended gardens and neatly manicured lawn were breathtaking. She shook her head in wonder. It was like something in Best of Homes and Gardens magazine.

Did the wonders of this place never cease?

Hoping not, she parked and pulled the two suitcases she would need for the next few days out of the back seat. Soon she would have to buy things, a lot of things, for both herself and her business. But for now, for her first night as Legend's newest resident, she would make do with the little she had been able to bring.

As she made her way to the front door, she glanced back. Then furious she was still looking for danger in shadows, she closed her eyes. The buzz of busy insects, the distant sound of Irish flutes, and the slight chill to the evening breeze, along with slow and measured breaths, soothed and relaxed her.

That life would not touch her here. She was determined to make a new start. A permanent start. Fear had no place here. Caution, yes, but not fear. Not the expectation of danger. Not here--not in this place. Not in her life ever again.

"Hello?"

She opened her eyes to find an attractive woman smiling at her. The woman wasn't just attractive; she had a glow about her. Neither thin nor heavy, but well proportioned, she had a casual sense of style Lilly knew she could never pull off. The long billowing skirt and peasant blouse, the large chunky jewelry and bare feet, and the long flowing red hair suited her perfectly. She looked like an Irish gypsy with a leprechaun's smile and sparkling blue eyes. She was one of those women who could pass as early thirties, but had an air of knowledge that could add a decade or two.

Lilly returned her smile. "Hi. I'm Lilly Peach, and I guess you are Suzie, owner of this lovely home."

"Yes, thank you. I'm Suzie Schul." She reached out and took one of Lilly's large suitcases before leading the way into the house. "Welcome. Come on in. You're my only guest tonight."

Lilly followed her into the house and instantly fell in love. The entryway opened into a large living space filled with floral padded wicker furniture, houseplants of all sizes, and mosaic topped tables that complemented the lakefront colors and patterns in the room. Even the windows were adorned with similarly colored glass balls and beads. Promising herself the opportunity to get a closer look at everything later, she followed Suzie up the stairs to the first of two doors.

"You have a bathroom that adjoins the two bedrooms up here. For tonight, at least, you have it all to yourself." She opened the door and stepped back. "I hope this suits you."

Lilly stepped into the room. "It's perfect. It's all so perfect."

To her horror, tears sprang from out of nowhere. She lowered her head and wiped at her eyes.

"Oh, honey. What's wrong?" Suzie sat the suitcase down and touched Lilly's arms.

That only made things worse. "I'm sorry. Oh, good grief. I'm so embarrassed," she sniffed wiping at her now running nose. "This is so stupid. I'm fine. Really."

Compassion suited Suzie's freckled face, Lilly decided, desperately determined to halt the tears. "I'm sorry," she repeated, looking around for a tissue. "This is so stupid."

Suzie slid open the single drawer of the bedside table and handed her a small box of tissues. "It's not stupid. Sometimes we just need to cry. I'll give you time to let it out. And then, if you're sure you're all right, I'll go make us some tea. Or, if you prefer, a martini." The leprechaun smile was back. "And if you feel up to it, we'll sit out on the sun porch off my kitchen and get to know each other."

She was tempted to claim fatigue, but the soft, mysterious Irish tunes, the incredibly seductive scents filling the house, and the aura of kindness from her host, as well as the need to be a part of something normal for a change, had her accepting. "I'd love some tea. Thank you."

Suzie left her to the privacy of the room she would call her own until she found a house to rent. This room, just like the one below, was designed with vacationing on the lake in mind. The full size bed, covered with what looked like a hand-sewn quilt in varying shades of turquoise and sand, had a large wicker headboard. The matching nightstand held a small lamp and cordless telephone. The long dresser, the last piece of the set, had more than enough drawers to accommodate her few possessions.

The first order of business was to pull herself together. What, she wondered, had brought on the tears? She hadn't cried in ... forever. Not during all the years she'd been in hiding. Or even before that, when she'd had to face a hard truth and turn against people she'd once loved. But she wouldn't think about that now. She preferred never to think of it again.

No. She would never think of it again!

After a quick splash of water on her face in the small but lovely bathroom, Lilly placed her clothing neatly in the dresser drawers and closet and laid out her toiletries on the little tray provided by the bathroom's door. What a neat idea, she thought, since she would likely be sharing the bathroom before her stay was over.

After checking to make sure that door, as well as the one leading to the hallway, were locked, she pulled out the money she had hoarded over the past four years, as well as what the agency had provided for her new start. The agency money would be plenty to establish a checking account for business and personal expenses. Her savings would keep hidden until she was certain she could relax and make a real life for herself in Legend. She stuffed her savings into a zippered pillowcase and tucked it back into the suitcase's false bottom.

That left one last item nestled in the bottom of her case. Lilly stared at the holstered Lady Colt, a .45 automatic pistol she'd been trained and licensed to carry. She hesitated, then closed the suitcase and stored both cases upon the closet shelf. She wouldn't sleep with the gun under her pillow, nor would she carry it in her purse anymore. If Polly was right, and she was staking her life that Polly was, she was safe. The gun would stay stored. She would have a normal life.

It wasn't so much to ask.

One deep breath and Lilly made her way downstairs, following the smell of something incredible, to the very updated gourmet's dream kitchen. An amused light flashed in her hostess's eyes.

"I couldn't resist. I'm trying a new twist on my chocolate swirl cream puffs before my class tomorrow. I've started teaching cooking classes on Saturdays and I wanted to perfect these before I shared the recipe with my friends. If they turn out well enough, I'll add the change to the cookbook I'm putting together." Suzie went to the large stainless steel range and poured steaming tea into two tall mugs, adding a long cinnamon stick before handing the mug to Lilly. "I hope you like this. It's my own blend."

Lilly shook her head. "You cook, you teach, you're writing a cookbook, and you no doubt decorated this lovely home. Please tell me you aren't responsible for the incredible gardens outside, too."

Suzie just shrugged. "My passions are many." A bit of the sparkle left her eyes. "And they come at a price." With a slight shake of her head, her smile was back in place. "But then, so does everything worthwhile." She took the cream filled puffs from the cooling rack and placed one on each of two boldly colored saucers then slid one towards Lilly. "Come on, I want to show you why I bought this place."

Exiting the kitchen through the back door, they entered a screened-in porch, lit only by a dozen or so candles. The porch, like the house, was designed for comfort and relaxation. Lilly followed her host to one of the two overstuffed patio chairs and placed her still steaming mug on a coaster-covered, frosted glass tabletop. She took a bite of the pastry and quietly moaned with the pleasure of it. Suzie smiled her approval of Lilly's reaction, then bit into her own.

Chirps and croaks, the gentle whoosh of breeze through trees, and the rhythm of water lapping against shore were so peaceful, Lilly yawned, afraid she might just fall asleep right there. She smiled at her hostess, a woman who seemed comfortable in her own skin and content to just sit quietly as if she had known that that was what Lilly had really needed. "This is lovely. I know I keep saying that, but really, I've never felt so instantly at peace anywhere."

"Thank you. Neither have I." Suzie chuckled. "But I haven't been many places, either. Born here, lived here all my life except the two years I went to culinary school, and plan to die here." She rose and went to stand looking out into the now complete darkness, made darker by the many tall pines foresting her land.

"I did take a couple of month's vacation. Once." She turned back with a distant look of wonder and loss. "It was wonderful." She glanced at her wrist and then at her guest. "I'd better get on to bed. Early to bed and early to rise for me. I hope you'll come to my class tomorrow. It'll give you a chance to meet some of the locals, including our town's living legend."