Final Stand. Helen Myers R.

      The bite of gravel at his bare feet irritated as much as curiosity and conscience plagued Gray’s mind, encouraging him to be quick. Upon opening the passenger door, he saw that the van was designed for commercial purposes. There was only the shell of the truck and little else. A suitcase, sleeping bag and pillow were stacked neatly behind the driver’s seat. Anna Diaz was traveling light.

      Leaning over the passenger seat, he spotted a black leather purse on the floorboard. Without the slightest twinge of guilt, he lifted out her wallet. Flipping open the buttery-soft flap, he eyed the Louisiana license, then tilted the thing back and forth to get a better look at her photo. No, it wasn’t glare on the plastic that made it so unclear, he realized. The photo was scratched.

      His unease growing, he checked the rest of the wallet. All of the credit card slots were empty, and there were no other photos; however, what had him exhaling in a low whistle was the amount of cash she was carrying.

      He found yet another stash of bills in a different compartment in the bag. Maybe, he thought with growing bitterness, he would also find the reason for her to have such resources. Simple logic was beginning to offer a few conclusions.

      Gray shoved the purse back in place…possibly a bit too roughly because it tipped over. As he reached to straighten it, his fingertips brushed against something in the seat pocket.

      Frowning, he eased his hand inside and closed his fingertips around smooth steel. He drew out a Smith & Wesson .9 mm automatic—not the kind of thing a simple working girl relocating toted around with her…unless her work was dangerous.

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      DEAD END

      LOST

      MORE THAN YOU KNOW

      COME SUNDOWN

      Final Stand

      Helen R. Myers

      To Ethan Ellenberg

      Acknowledgments

      While suspense novels are always and foremost marketed as entertainment, it’s not wholly my approach to writing. Fortunately, I have an agent who both challenges me as he encourages, while I try to transfer today’s social and political issues into scenarios where the Jane and John Does of the world can associate. It was he who pointed out as I developed Final Stand that I’d managed to create the contemporary version of one of his favorite stories, the Western classic High Noon. Seeing the themes of justice and honor, I immediately recognized that we all have mini “high noons” in our lives. To have the opportunity to tell the story with a woman in the courageous role that Gary Cooper made so memorable was both intimidating as it was irresistible.

      As usual, Sasha’s nemesis, Melor Borodin, came as a result of disturbing newspaper headlines. That my dialogue with my agent occurred shortly after a fascinating discussion I’d had regarding the Russian Mafia and their growing presence as a result of the World Trade Treaty seemed to me one of those innumerable “gifts” that guide a writer’s way.

      In many ways this is once again a personal story. It speaks to a part of my ancestry, and so I’m particularly grateful to my aunt, Pauline Serpas, affectionately known as “The Duchess” by those who have spent any time with her. Without her generosity of sharing her insights into the Russian culture, I couldn’t have gotten beyond my own recollections and textbook agendas. Spasibo, Tante.

      Thank you, “Gator,” for being researcher, tour guide and bodyguard as I realized the need to hunt the right location for this story. When you finish building that plane, I want to fly into Sonora with you and watch the field light up.

      Gail Reed, you came to my rescue and made the world of the veterinarian a little more clear to this animal lover. Whenever I need a laugh, I will think of the antibiotics line.

      Karen Kelley, friend and author, your EMS background was invaluable, even when you had me muttering.

      And to Lynette Bagley, who sent the timely bit of inspiration in the epilogue when your own world’s axis was doing a tilt. Once again we learn that timing, intent and heart mean everything.

      Readers, please be assured that any inaccuracies that slipped through are completely my error.

      Finally, and always, to my friends and family—most of all Robert, for getting us through that five-day, six-hour-and-ten-minute stint without electricity after the ice storm—my love and thanks.

      In memory of Jake, who made the title Final Stand literal.

      GLOSSARY

      Here I stand. I can do no other.

      God help me.