It was early afternoon by the time Rose arrived in the last town before you hiked up to the Sanditon Pass. As the bus traveled closer and closer to her destination, she began to feel the nerves again. The money in her jacket pocket, along with her gun, seemed inordinately heavy.
She took a deep breath, glanced at the directions Johnny had given her, and started walking.
It was about two miles into a wooded area, bursting with evergreens and wildflowers. The grass whistled in the breeze, dry and yellow from the summer dry spell, and if Rose weren’t walking to what she knew was her certain doom, she might have enjoyed the walk. When a butterfly fluttered past her, she had to stifle a hysterical laugh.
She’d done as Johnny had asked her: she hadn’t told anyone where she was going—at least
