She approached him and whispered, “Why are you turned on?”
“How could I not be?”
Charlotte blushed. “Go see if Auggie needs any help. I’ll watch your dog-babies.” She bit her lip to stop herself from laughing.
Finn looked at his canine charges. “Feel free to wander into the woods and get eaten.” Bruce and Marlene plopped down on the lawn for a nap.
By the time Finn entered the front room, Auggie was already racing around up in the loft.
The cabin was small and tidy. Framed photos and memorabilia covered the mantle and a narrow table behind the sofa. Finn picked up a small frame; Grandpa Bill had won a Bronze Star. He walked around the small space noting the chessboard, the knick-knacks, a handmade afghan folded on the back of a recliner. Finn pictured Auggie and Grandpa Bill sitting in the room at night going over homework or playing one of the board games stacked on the bookshelf. He was about to walk into the kitchen when a framed newspaper article hanging on the wall caught his eye. Finn stepped closer. It was a photo of a man standing in a parking lot by a car with a shattered window. A smaller photo insert showed the man in uniform.
A trash bag full of clothes tumbled down the narrow stairs, Auggie hopping down behind it. Finn pointed to the article. “What’s this?”
“Grandpa Bill’s a hero. He saved a baby in a hot car.”
Finn touched the glass along the headline and swallowed around the lump in his throat. Homeless Marine Saves Child. “Let’s take this. And the pictures and things. Charlotte will want to see it.”
Charlotte sat in one of the wooden chairs on Grandpa Bill’s porch and stared at the framed news article in wonder. Auggie’s grandfather had saved her life. He had rescued her from that hot car.
“I wish I could have met him again,” she said. “Really thanked him.”
“Seems like your dad did right by him. I think Bill had a pretty good life.” Finn hooked a loose lock of red hair behind her ear.
She returned her attention to the article, a fat tear hitting the glass.
The patchwork family walked through the woods back to the Gingerbread House. Finn carried two trash bags of Auggie’s belongings, Auggie held the dogs’ leashes like a charioteer, and Charlotte strolled casually beside them. The air was cool, the breeze gentle. On a deep inhale, Charlotte said, “Do you smell that? Someone’s got a campfire going.”
Finn paused, lifting his head like an animal trying to catch a scent. “Not a campfire,” he said. “But it’s familiar.”
Charlotte sniffed again. “Is it a cigar?”
“No. It’s an invitation.”
Suddenly, Finn knew who had been shooting at him at Milo’s cabin. And he knew why. The Russian was telling him in smoke signals, luring Finn.
When they emerged from the forest into the side yard, Finn said, “I made arrangements with Herc to help us pack up. He has the best truck for moving our stuff. Unfortunately, I don’t think my beloved junker can survive another trip.”
“I can’t believe it survived the last one. Call Herc, and I’ll get us organized.” She sauntered up to Finn and placed her hand on his chest. “We’re taking that headboard.”
Finn kissed her. “Damn straight.”
Herc answered on the first ring. “Hey bro, what time do you need me?”
“Now, Herc, I need you now,” Finn replied and walked into the woods with the phone against his ear.
Finn had smelled that Russian tobacco twice before, and both times death followed the scent. He skirted the ridge of the foothill and headed for the assassin’s perch. He knew where Zmeya would be—a cluster of boulders with a clear view of the Gingerbread House. It’s where he would have gone. He slowed as he approached.
Walking carefully, he stepped on a twig.
Peering around a tree, he surveyed the spot. It was deserted. Finn stepped into the clearing and walked to the perch. He stared down at the cigarette butts in the dirt.
The sound of a bullet chambering had him spinning to face the assassin. The Russian had the rifle pointed at Finn’s chest.
“First, you take low path out of my sites. Then you dove in nick of time.” Zmeya tapped his head, mirroring the spot where his bullet had grazed Finn. He returned his hand to the rifle. “But I think guardian angel has flown off.”
Finn smirked. “I found you.”
“I summoned you. You walk like fucking elephant. American spec ops.” Zmeya spat a thick glob into the dirt.