Blind Run by Patricia Lewin Page A

purple verbena—flourished. Beyond the clearing, the woods closed in, a dense growth shielding the lodge from the bustling tourism of the lake community.
    Off to one side of the cliff, a path led down to a ragged beach, boathouse, and dock. From there, if you followed the shore another mile, climbing over rocks and wading through slippery pools, you’d come to a secluded inlet with sandy beaches and a cluster of vacation homes. Her parents owned the largest of these.
    Shortly after their marriage, she and Ethan had spent a long weekend there. Her parents hadn’t approved of her husband, but she’d believed if they got to know him, they’d change their minds. By the second night, however, she acknowledged her mistake. All they’d seen was the Army brat raised in a dozen different military towns and educated in the public school system. They’d closed their eyes to the man, to everything that made Ethan special, his strength and kindness, his intelligence and warmth, his integrity and devotion to his country.
    It had made her angry, but Ethan had agreed with them, claiming he wasn’t good enough for her. She’d known better, and later that night had talked him into sneaking out in search of privacy so she could prove it to him. With a full moon reflecting off the lake, they’d followed the nonexistent path along the shore to Laurel Lodge, silent and deserted, as it was now.
    “Callie, wake up.” Danny nudged his sister and reached for the door handle.
    “Wait—” Sydney and Ethan said at once.
    Sydney glanced back at him, awkwardly aware they’d fallen into an old pattern. How often had they spoken to Nicky at the same moment, to issue a warning or give an instruction?
    “Stay out of sight,” Ethan said, seemingly unaware of her discomfort. “And away from the cliff.”
    The boy nodded, and both children scrambled from the truck.
    Their enthusiasm made Sydney smile, reminding her of how much Nicky had loved the lake. Every summer she had brought him to spend a week or two at her parents’ cabin. Sometimes Ethan joined them, but mostly they’d come alone or with her folks, who adored their only grandchild.
    Neither she nor Ethan had ever brought Nicky here though, to Laurel Lodge. “How are we going to get in?”
    Ethan smiled, a ghost of his old self peeking through, and another unwanted shiver of awareness caressed her. “The same way as before.”
    He climbed from the truck, using his good hand to slip the gun into the waistband of his jeans. Then he grabbed his duffel bag from behind the seat and started toward the rear entrance. Sydney hurried after him, and by the time she caught up, he’d started on the back door, working the lock with two slender metal picks.
    Once before, she’d watched him do this and had half-jokingly asked, “Does the Agency train all their analysts to pick locks?”
    “Sure, they taught us all kinds of nefarious skills.”
    She’d laughed, unsure whether he was kidding, though it hadn’t really mattered at the time. Their adventure held little peril that night. If caught, she and Ethan risked little more than embarrassment. Now, however, the stakes were higher, and she shuddered at the thought of the men from Dallas finding them here.
    Isolation could work for or against them.
    Ethan finished with the lock, retrieved the gun from his waistband, and opened the door. “Wait here while I make sure it’s clear.”
    She nodded, her eyes drawn to the weapon, no longer taking anything for granted. “I’ll check on Danny and Callie.”
    Back out front, she spotted the children at the edge of the woods, facing the lake. Danny was talking and pointing toward a large turkey vulture perched on a scraggly ash at the cliff’s edge. She couldn’t hear him, but he seemed to be explaining something to Callie, who listened with rapt attention.
    The resiliency of children never ceased to amaze Sydney. No one watching them would guess what these two had been through in the last few