Inside the gun and tackle shop, Amelia looked at Luke. “Do you think he was one of them?”
Luke frowned. “I don't know. He made sure he saw your face. Good idea to cover up the scratches and cut your hair. If he was after you, he didn’t recognize you.” His frown deepened, but he didn’t share what was worrying him with her. “Let’s get those tickets.”
Tickets to Denver in hand, they supported their cover story by looking over the stock. Amelia picked up a hunting rifle, surprised to find it felt…familiar. She lifted it, the butt against her shoulder and looked down the sight. The fog opened for a flash, giving her a glimpse of something— or was it someone? A bullet piercing a dark silhouette.
Who am I? What am I?
She lowered the gun so fast it clattered against the counter.
“Are you all
