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She left the room and he heard the click of her door, the small crunch of bedsprings. He didn’t know which side of her had finally won, the softness or the strength, but experience told him that she was under the covers, eyes shut tight. Her sudden presence in the door, moments later, took him by surprise. She held out a framed photograph, a color shot from her wedding day. She was twenty, all smiles, and the sun spilled perfect color across her face. Joh
“I’m coming back.”
“Take it.”
And Joh
Then she hugged him with great tenderness; and when she returned to her room, the door stayed closed.
Joh
“They felt okay.” Joh
“Before we go.”
“Yeah?”
“When you saw Levi Freemantle…” Hunt hesitated. “Did he have anybody with him?”
Joh
Hunt’s eyes were tortured, his voice tight. “Nobody at all?” Hunt could not ask the rest of it: No child? No small girl that could melt a heart?
Joh
Hunt paused, then cleared his throat. “Here.” He held out one of his cards, and Joh
Joh
“This is bullshit,” Joh
Steve’s smile fell away. He started the car, and pulled out of the drive. He licked his lips, cut his eyes right. “Can you tell me what happened?”
He was talking about Tiffany Shore.
“I didn’t save anybody.” It was automatic now, metallic. Joh
Steve accelerated. “Still, your dad would be proud.”
“Maybe.”
Joh
“Just stay out of my stuff.” The van crested the hill, and Steve twisted his jaw like it had popped out of joint. The road dropped into shadow. “You want to buy some candy or comics or something?”
“Candy?”
“That’s what kids like, isn’t it.”
Joh
“Feels like I owe you.”
“Well, you don’t.”
Steve inclined his head toward the glove compartment, more relaxed. “Reach in there and grab my smokes.”
Papers and other junk stuffed the glove compartment. Cigarette packs. Receipts. Lottery tickets. Joh
“Don’t touch that,” Steve said easily.
Joh
“It ain’t that hard.”
“Will you?”
Steve glanced sideways, appraising, then flicked a skin of ash out the window. Joh
“What for?” Steve asked, and Joh
“Just ’cause.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Steve worked the van through town. He passed storefronts and columned mansions, the parklike town square with its canopy of twisted oaks and the statue erected more than a century ago to honor a proud county’s Confederate dead. Joh
A different life.
Once past the square and the sun-dashed campus of the local college, Steve turned onto the four-lane that led to the mall. It was Ken’s mall. He owned it. “Where are we going?” Joh
“I have to stop by work. It won’t take long.”
Joh
“I’m not scared of Ken.”
“I can take you to my place first.”
“I said I’m not scared.”
A half laugh. “Whatever.”
Joh
“Mr. Holloway?”
“He treats her like crap.”
“She’s the prettiest woman in this part of the state, or hadn’t you noticed?”
“It’s more than that.”
Steve shrugged. “Mr. Holloway doesn’t like to lose.”
“Lose what?”
“Anything.” Joh
“What?”
“Your mom used to go out with Ken Holloway.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“Well, you’d better.” Steve took another drag, drawing the moment out. “She was eighteen, maybe nineteen. Just a girl, really.” He shook his head, pursed his lips. “Hotter than a three-dollar pistol, your momma. Could have gone to Hollywood, maybe. New York, for sure. Never did, of course, but could have.”
“I still don’t believe it.”
“He was older, but even then he was the richest man around. Not like he is now, mind you, but rich enough. It’d be hard for a pretty girl to resist the kind of attention he could apply if he set his mind to it, and your mother was no different from most other girls. Flowers. Gifts. Fancy di
“She’s not like that.” Joh
“Not now. But young people like to feel bigger than the place they come from. It lasted for a few months, I guess. But then your dad came back to town.”
“Back from where?”
“The service. Four years. He’s what, six years older than she is? Seven? Anyway, she was just a kid when he left, but that changed.” Steve laughed and blew out a low whistle. “Boy, did that change.” Joh
“Her, too? For him I mean?”
“Your mom was like a butterfly, Joh