The woman stared at her reflection for a few moments, blinking back tears. She slowly reached up and fingered the vibrant red strands that ended at her jaw line. Without the heavy weight of her almost waist-long hair, the strands took on waves she’d forgotten she’d had.

“Never thought I’d like red on me.” She smiled tremulously at the woman behind her.

“It accentuates your blue eyes. Especially with the shorter style,” the woman smiled at her.

“I like the short. I’ve always wanted it more this way, but he…” her eyes slid shut as the weight of what she’d done pressed down on her. “Wouldn’t let me.” She sighed and turned away from the mirror. “This probably is going to sound stupid, but I’m going to miss my real name. I’ve always loved it. Ra…”

The older woman held up her hand, interrupting her. “No. No real names. Your name is Deanna and you have a beautiful red-haired boy named Sam.”

Deanna nodded. “Right. I’m twenty-six and other than my son, I have no family. Ever.”

“I’m sorry it has to be this way, but I really believe you made the right decision.” She reached out and slid an arm around Deanna’s shoulders. “I know it’s hard to believe right now, but you’ll stop being afraid. It may take a while, but it’ll happen. Just remember the rules.”

“No contact with my family or friends. I can’t mention anything about this to anyone. No matter what the circumstances are.”

“Exactly. Not to frighten you further, but he may never stop looking for you. Which is why you chose a place where he would never dream you’d go. You do the exact opposite of what he thinks you’d do. You can never go back, only forward. But you’ve done the hardest thing, you left.” She smiled and changed the subject. “Now, go sit with Sam while I get this cleaned up and I’ll take you to the next stop.”

A few minutes later they piled into her car and, after driving for forty minutes, she turned onto a gravel road and stopped a few yards down. Turning to Deanna, she smiled. “I can’t take you any farther. But they’re waiting for you. Good luck to you, Deanna.”

Deanna nodded. “Thank you. Very much. I wish I knew your name.”

The woman shook her head. “It’s safer this way. For you, for me.” In truth, she didn’t know the identity of the people at the stop before hers, or after. Everyone gave fake names or no names at all. Strict anonymity.

“Well, thank you anyway.” Deanna opened the door, slid out and then helped her three year old son from the backseat. Next came the suitcases, the clothes they contained were thanks to this mysterious woman who changed her physical looks. And her son’s as well. The cash buried in her suitcase had been accumulated from both what little she had gleaned in the weeks before she’d left her husband and what these generous people had given her thus far. Almost five thousand dollars. A windfall to Deanna and an assurance that she could indeed start a new life. Far from Vegas and her abusive spouse.

Taking her son’s hand in hers, she walked the last yards to the sprawling house in the desert. Her last stop before complete freedom.

She sat in the car, watching while Deanna and Sam walked onto the front porch, the light from the dashboard catching the blond highlights in her hair and accentuating her sculpted cheekbones. Only after the porch light blinked twice, did she put the car into reverse and leave. This branch of the underground railroad had rescued another victim of domestic abuse and given the woman a chance at a better life.

A quick glance at the clock told her she was going to be late, ensuring her a ‘look’ from her boss, but she knew she could handle him. After all, she’d been ‘handling’ him for years. Normally he wouldn’t bat an eyelash at her lack of punctuality, but this was the second time in less than a week.

But it couldn’t be helped and she needed the thirty-five minute drive to change gears mentally. Not that there was much difference between the two. Her professional life was geared toward speaking for the victims, dead as a result of some sort of violence. Her private life was geared toward helping them before they became the victims whose death she investigated. In one area she abided by the rules, justice coming from the court system. In the other, she broke several laws and helped to provide justice that the system couldn’t.

She couldn’t help but smile at the irony that she, as a CSI for the Las Vegas Police Department, investigated the disappearances she’d helped to cause. But she doubted the courts would find it amusing. Not that they would find out; no one knew of her double life. And she made sure no one would.