Thick as Thieves - Sandra Brown Page 0,8

me.”

“Where?”

“I think it was in the fried pie shop.”

“I didn’t even know there was a fried pie shop.”

“Oh. Well, then it must’ve been somewhere else.”

“Why was I being pointed out to you?”

He pulled his thumbs from his pockets and pushed away from the table, then glanced aside for several seconds before coming back to her. “You’re the lady who had the…emergency…in the grocery store.”

Her breath hitched, and instinctively she took a step back. “Oh.”

The recollections swarmed her, blocking out light and sound, everything. Her mind unreeled the memories at warp speed, but they were as distinct as though it had happened yesterday instead of two months ago.

She recalled being jerkily conveyed from the ambulance into the ER, the rapid-fire questions of the medical personnel, the pervasive antiseptic smell, the biting coldness of the stirrups against the arches of her bare feet, the kindly voice of the nurse asking if she would like to hold her daughter. Her lifeless daughter.

She didn’t know how long she stood there, remembering, but, as the kaleidoscope of memories receded, she realized that she was slumped forward, hugging her elbows. Her skin had turned clammy. Self-consciously, she straightened up and swiped a strand of hair off her damp forehead with the back of her hand.

She became painfully aware of him, standing motionless and silent, watching her. To avoid eye contact, she looked around and took stock of the workshop. Fluorescent tubes augmented the natural light pouring in from four skylights. Two ceiling fans as large as airplane propellers circulated from the ends of long rods. She could identify some of the tools of his trade, while the purposes of other apparatus and pieces of machinery were unknown to her.

A large draftsman’s table occupied a far corner. A light fixture with a perforated metal shade was suspended above it. Next to it was a desk with a computer setup. Except for the sawdust on the floor beneath the table where he’d been working, everything was neatly arranged and appeared well maintained.

Finally her gaze returned to him.

He shifted his stance slightly, the soles of his boots scraping against the floor and disturbing the sawdust. “Sorry about…” He made a small hand gesture in the general direction of her midsection.

“Thank you.” She didn’t dwell on that. “So when you listened to the voice mail yesterday, you recognized my name.”

“Yeah. Rumor had been circulating for months that the youngest of the Maxwell girls was back. Living out there alone. Expecting a baby.”

In all the time she’d been back, this was the first time she had come face-to-face with the gossip about her. “Do you know the rest of it?”

“Don’t know who or where the baby’s father is.”

She ignored the implied question. “Are you acquainted with my family’s history?”

“I grew up here.” He said it as though that were explanation enough, and it was. Everybody knew her family history.

“You ever learn where your dad went, what happened to him?” he asked. “Did the money ever turn up?”

She didn’t address those questions, either. “Are you open to discussing my project, Mr. Burnet?”

“I told you. Discussion would be a waste of time.”

“You won’t even consider it?”

“Don’t know how plainer I can make it.”

“Are you afraid that being associated with the youngest Maxwell girl will dent your reputation?”

The corner of his stern mouth twitched, but it couldn’t be counted as a real smile. “My reputation is already dented. The thing is, your project would involve more work than I take on at any one time. I specialize in small jobs. Ones with a short shelf life. That way, I’m not overcommitted or overextended. I don’t like being tied down. I’d rather keep my work schedule flexible.”

She crossed her arms and looked him up and down. “That sounded like bullshit.”

“It was.”

Chapter 3

When the ball game ended in the tie-breaking tenth inning, the crowd at Burnet’s Bar and Billiards had begun to thin out. Now, only a few customers remained in the popular lakeside watering hole, which seemed on the verge of toppling into the opaque water of Caddo Lake at any given moment. But since it hadn’t slipped from its pilings in the forty years that it had been there, no one worried too much about that happening.

Of the eight pool tables, only one was currently in use. A hotly contested tournament among a group of very vocal and rowdy young men was winding down.

A man and woman, seated across from each other in one of the dark, semi-private booths, had been engaged in a

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