To Love and to Perish - By Lisa Bork Page 0,39
changes before winter, two for inspections. Cory could get them done early in the day. “Maybe an afternoon.”
“Can you stand another drive to Albany so we can visit the Gleasons?”
“I’ll bake them some chocolate chip cookies.”
FOURTEEN
FRIDAY MORNING I MADE Danny and Ray instant oatmeal for breakfast, while the cookies browned in the oven. Ray appeared in the kitchen first, dressed in his gray uniform and looking hot. I love a man in uniform, especially this man.
He didn’t notice me staring. He was too intent on inhaling his oatmeal. “Who are the cookies for?”
“Some are for us, but I’m taking a couple dozen to James Gleason’s family.”
He stopped chewing. “When did you decide to go see them?”
“Last night.”
“I was home last night.”
Meaning, why didn’t you tell me then? I didn’t mention it because I didn’t want him to try to dissuade us. I had enough doubts and concerns without his adding to them. “I know. I just didn’t want to hear again about how Ken would investigate. Brennan’s home and he still won’t talk to Cory about the car crash.”
Ray spoke slowly. “Maybe he thinks it’s none of Cory’s business.” His patronizing tone implied it was none of my business either.
“You’re right, but now inquiring minds want to know.”
“Brennan isn’t going to appreciate your interference any more than Ken.” He carried his dish to the dishwasher and inserted it. “Now that he’s out of jail, it may get back to him that the two of you are snooping around.”
“I think Cory’s willing to risk it to keep him out of prison.”
Ray ran his hand over his face. “Okay, have it your way. But don’t call me when you two get arrested for impeding an investigation.”
“Do you even know for sure your friend Ken is investigating ties to the crash?
“No.” Ray’s response was curt. He hated to acknowledge even the possibility that the sheriff’s department in any county would leave the smallest stone unturned.
I raised my face to his. “We may be a little late. Can you pick Danny up from football practice?”
“Done.” Ray’s lips brushed over mine. “Be careful.”
After Ray left, I checked the clock and panicked. “Danny, you’re going to miss the bus.”
He appeared from around the corner. “Is Ray gone?”
“Yes, but he’s picking you up from practice tonight. Cory and I are going to Albany again.”
“Oh.” Danny climbed onto a stool at the breakfast bar. He didn’t pick up his spoon.
“What’s the matter? You don’t want oatmeal?”
His gaze remained fixed on the bowl. “I want it.”
He made no move to eat.
I leaned against the bar. “Is something wrong?”
“My dad called last night.”
“Ray told me. How is your dad?”
“Good. I saw him at the vintage festival. I didn’t know he was coming. He followed me into the store when I went to use the bathroom.” Danny glanced up at me from underneath the hair hanging in this face.
“That was a nice surprise, I bet.”
He sat up eagerly, a huge smile on his face. “Yeah. He’s been to Washington, D.C. and Boston. He saw a Red Sox game.”
“Cool.” I wondered if Mr. Phillips had stolen a few cars while he was there, too. Frankly, I was surprised he hadn’t made off with any from the vintage festival, a Mecca for car fans. Maybe he’d been assessing future possibilities.
“My dad never takes cars people love.”
For a minute, I thought I’d spoken my thoughts aloud. “What?”
“Ray asked me if my dad was at the festival to steal a car.”
“He did?” I couldn’t believe it. Well, I could, but I didn’t want to. It was one thing to think it and quite another to say it out loud. Deliberately undermining Danny’s image of his father was unacceptable.
“He wasn’t. He came to see me.”
“I’m sure you were glad to see him.”
Danny nodded. “I know stealing any car is wrong, like Ray said, but my dad would never take one of those cars, ever.”
“Why not?”
“Because those cars are loved.”
“What?”
“All those cars. The people spend tons of time and money fixing them up to take to races and car shows. They love their cars. My dad would never take their cars. He only takes cars from people who drive them for show, or from the dealerships. They don’t care. They don’t love their cars.”
I thought about the black Porsche 944 S2 my dad had restored and presented to me as a graduation present. I loved that car. My sister had it now. She didn’t love it. She didn’t even appreciate it, but I couldn’t take it back