Читать книгу Echo Of Danger - Marta Perry - Страница 9
ОглавлениеHER FATHER-IN-LAW SET down the coffee she’d poured for him and glanced around Deidre Morris’s sunny, country-style kitchen. “I’ve found a buyer for your house.”
The seemingly casual words, dropped into what had supposedly been an impromptu visit to see his grandson, sent ripples of alarm through Deidre. Her own cup clattered, nearly missing the saucer. “I... What did you say?”
Judge Franklin Morris gave her the look he’d give an unprepared attorney in his courtroom. “I said I’ve found a buyer for you. He’s offering the best price you can expect for a place like this. And you’ll be able to move into Ferncliff by the end of the month.”
Deidre pressed suddenly cold hands against the top of the pine table that had belonged to her grandparents. She should have guessed that there was something behind this visit. Judge Morris was far too busy to drop in on anyone. And nothing he said was ever casual.
She was going to have to take a firm line, clearly, and that wasn’t easy with a man who was accustomed to speaking with the force of law. Stupid, she lectured herself. He can’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do, even if he is Kevin’s grandfather.
“I’m afraid there’s some misunderstanding. I have no intention of selling this house.” And certainly not of moving into the chilly mansion where every moment of the day was governed by her formidable father-in-law’s wishes.
“I realize you have a sentimental attachment to your family home.” He seemed to make an effort to sound patient. “But since you won’t have any need of the house once you and Kevin move in with us, selling seems the sensible solution. You can invest the money for the future. However, if you prefer to rent, I suppose that can be arranged.” He’d begun to use his courtroom voice by the end of his little speech.
But she was neither a plaintiff nor a defendant. And this house had been home to her family for three generations, now four. “I don’t want to rent or sell. This is my home, mine and Kevin’s. This is where I plan to live.” Surely that was clear enough.
The judge’s face stiffened, making it look very much like the portrait of him that hung in the county courthouse, marking his twenty years on the bench. The firm planes of his face, the small graying moustache, the piercing gray eyes—all seemed granted by providence to make Franklin Morris look like what he was, a county court judge.
The chink of a glass reminded her that they were not alone. Kevin sat across from her, his blue eyes huge and round above the chocolate milk that rimmed his mouth. Deidre’s heart clenched. A five-year-old shouldn’t be hearing this conversation.
“Kevin, why don’t you run upstairs and finish the get-well card you’re making for your grandmother. That way Grandfather can take it with him when he goes.” She gave him a reassuring smile, wishing someone would send reassurance her way about now.
“Yes, that’s right.” The judge’s face softened into a smile when he regarded his grandson in a way it seldom seemed to do otherwise. Maybe he felt he had little else to smile about, with his only child dead at thirty-two and his wife constantly medicating herself with alcohol. “She’ll love to have a card from you.”
Kevin nodded, his chair scraping back. Without a word, he scuttled from the kitchen like a mouse escaping the cat.
Her son’s expression reminded Deidre of the most important reason why they’d never be moving into Ferncliff. She wouldn’t allow Kevin to grow up the way his father had, doubting himself at every turn, convinced he could never measure up to what was expected of him. She turned back to the table to be met by a stare that chilled her.
“Deidre, what is this nonsense? I could understand your reluctance to make a move in the immediate aftermath of Frank’s death. But you’ve had nearly a year. It was always understood that you and Kevin would move in with us. We have plenty of room, and it’s the sensible thing to do. With Frank gone, I’m the only father figure the boy will have.”
And that was exactly what Deidre feared most. This was her own fault, she supposed. She should have stood firm when the subject had first come up, but she’d still been dazed at the suddenness of Frank’s death, unable to come to terms with the thought of the screaming, shrieking crash of his treasured sports car against the bridge abutment.
She hadn’t been in any condition then to mount a major battle with the judge, so she’d taken the easy way out, claiming she couldn’t possibly make any more abrupt changes in their lives until they’d become accustomed to the tragedy. When both the family doctor and her minister had chimed in with their support, the judge had graciously backed down.
But now it was the day of reckoning. Taking the easy way out had only postponed the inevitable.
“I realize that you hoped to have us close, especially after Frank’s death.” Deidre chose her words carefully. No matter what damage she considered he’d done to Frank by the way he’d raised him, the judge had lost his only child. “But Frank and I chose to live here, and all of our plans for the future included this house as our home.”
“All that has changed now.” The judge brushed away the years of her marriage with a sweeping gesture of his hand. “Without my son...” He paused, and she feared his iron control was going to snap.
He’d never forgive himself or her if he showed what he’d consider weakness in front of her, and a spasm of pity caught at her throat. His only child gone, his wife an alcoholic... Small wonder he had all his hopes centered on his grandson.
The judge cleared his throat, vanquishing whatever emotion had threatened to erupt. “I’m only thinking of what’s best for Kevin. We can offer him so much more than you can alone. Surely you realize that. An appropriate school, the right background... These things count for something in the world beyond Echo Falls.”
Ambition, in other words. That was what he’d wanted for Frank, and he’d never let Frank forget what he’d supposedly given up by coming back to Echo Falls and marrying her instead of going out into the glittering future his father had wanted for him.
But she could hardly use that as an argument with her father-in-law. “Kevin’s only five. There’s plenty of time to be thinking about the right school for him. At the moment, he needs security, warmth and familiarity in his life, and that’s what he has.” She saw the argument shaping in his eyes and hurried on. “Please don’t think I don’t appreciate all that you and Sylvia do for Kevin. You’re a very important part of his life and nothing can change that.” She managed a smile. “After all, we’re less than a mile away as it is.”
Less than a mile, yes, but to her mind there was a huge difference between the comfortable family house on the edge of town, surrounded by fields, woods and Amish farms, and the cool, elegant mansion on the hill.
Her father-in-law’s chair scraped back as he rose, standing rigid to look down at her for a long moment. “I’m sorry you can’t see the sense of my offer, Deidre. It would be easier all around if you did.”
He turned, stalking without haste from the room, down the hall and toward the front door. Deidre, hurrying after him, reached the door in time to have it close sharply in her face.
Well. Her hands were cold and trembling, and she clasped them together, needing something to hold on to. Surely she must be imagining what seemed to be a threat in the judge’s final words. Hadn’t she?
“Mommy?” Kevin scurried down the stairs, waving a sheet of construction paper. “Grandfather left without the card I made.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I guess he forgot.”
Deidre put her arm around her son to draw him close, taking comfort from his sturdy little body. She held the picture he was waving so she could see it. Kevin had drawn himself, holding a handful of flowers in all sorts of unlikely shades of crayon. He’d printed his name at the top in uncertain letters.
“But my picture...” He clouded up. “I made it especially for Grandma.”
“We’ll put it in an envelope and mail it to her right now, okay?”
That restored his sunny smile, and Kevin ran to the drop-front desk in the corner of the living room. “I’ll get an envelope.”
“Good job, Kev. I know this will make Grandma feel better.”
She hoped. A report that Sylvia was ill usually meant that she’d gotten hold of something to drink. Once started, she couldn’t seem to stop. Much as Deidre grieved for Sylvia, she didn’t mean to expose Kevin to the difficulties inherent in living with her.
That was one more reason why the judge’s plan was impossible. She just wished she could get rid of the sinking feeling that Judge Franklin Morris didn’t give up on anything until he had what he wanted.
* * *
JASON GLASSMAN HAD been in Echo Falls, Pennsylvania, for less than twenty-four hours, and already he was wondering what he was doing here. He’d elected to walk the few blocks from his new apartment to the offices of Morris, Morris and Alter, Attorneys-at-Law, so he could get a close-up look at the town that was supposed to be home from now on.
Small, that was one word. He’d imagined, given that Echo Falls was the county seat, that there’d be a bit more to it. It was attractive enough, he supposed. Tree-shaded streets, buildings that had stood where they were for over a hundred years and would look good for a hundred more, a central square whose fountain was surrounded with red tulips on this May day.
He passed a bookshop and spotted the law practice sign ahead of him. Morris, Morris and Alter would, if all went as planned, be changing its name to Morris, Alter and Glassman before long. He should be grateful. He was grateful, given that the alternative would have been practicing storefront law in a city where everyone knew he’d escaped disbarment by the skin of his teeth and where disgrace dogged him closer than his shadow.
He didn’t often let the memories flood back, keeping them away by sheer force of will. Now he let them come—a reminder of all he had left behind in Philadelphia.
He’d gone to the office unsuspecting that morning, kissing Leslie goodbye in the apartment building lobby as they headed toward their separate jobs—he at the prosecutor’s office, she at a small, struggling law firm.
And he’d walked into a firestorm. The materials that had been so painfully collected as a major part of the prosecution of George W. Whitney for insider trading and racketeering had unaccountably been compromised. Someone had given away their source, who was now swearing himself blue in the face that he’d never been in touch with Jason Glassman, that the records had been altered, presumably by Glassman and that the whole case was a put-up job designed to vilify a valuable and civic-minded citizen.
The case lay in shreds at their feet. All the hours of tedious work, all the manpower that had been poured into it, were wasted. The district attorney had needed to find someone to blame, and he hadn’t gone far. Jason had found himself out of a job and lucky to escape arrest.
Disappear, the district attorney had said. Don’t give statements to the press, don’t try to defend yourself, and we won’t pursue criminal charges or disbarment.
A devil’s agreement, he’d thought it, but he hadn’t had a choice. He’d left the office, driven around in a daze, had a few drinks, which hadn’t helped, and finally headed for home, trying to think of how to explain all this to Leslie.
But Leslie hadn’t been there. All of her belongings had vanished, and she hadn’t bothered leaving a note. Clearly she’d heard and decided it was too dangerous to her career to continue an association with him.
He’d thought that was all it was, and that disappointment had been bad enough. It was three days before he learned that Leslie was now an associate at Bronson and Bronson, the very firm defending George W. Whitney.
So all those nights when he was working at home, when she’d leaned over his shoulder looking at his progress, offering suggestions and support, had just been so much camouflage for an elaborate betrayal.
He’d been incensed. But when his first attempt to confront her had resulted in a protection-from-abuse order being filed against him, he’d had just enough sense left to cut his losses. The last he’d seen of her had been an elegant, expensively dressed back disappearing into the recesses of Bronson and Bronson while he was dragged away by security guards.
And here he was in Echo Falls, Pennsylvania.
Jase paused, hand on the door of the firm’s office. Franklin Morris had made a generous offer to his son’s law school classmate, especially since Jason and Frank had never been close. But Jase knew perfectly well that Judge Morris wanted something in return.
The receptionist seated behind the desk in the spotless, expensively furnished outer office was fiftyish, plumpish and looked as if she’d be more at home baking cookies than juggling the needs of a busy law practice, but the judge had said she knew more about the law than most young law school graduates. She greeted him with a smile and a nod of recognition. Word of his arrival had obviously preceded him.
“Mr. Glassman, of course. I’m Evelyn Lincoln. Welcome to Echo Falls. The judge is waiting for you.” Not pausing for a reply, she led the way to a paneled oak door bearing Franklin Morris’s name in gilt letters, tapped lightly and opened it. “Mr. Glassman is here, Your Honor.”
He followed her in, not sure what welcome to expect.
“Jason, I’m pleased to see you again.” Morris’s smile was polite but restrained, suggesting that it was up to Jase to be sure this was indeed a pleasure. “Come in.” Without rising from behind the massive cherry desk, he nodded to the leather client’s seat.
“Thanks. And thank you, as well, for lining up the apartment for me.”
Judge Morris waved the gratitude away. “Evelyn took care of all that. You’ve met her already. Trey Alter, my associate, is out of the office today, dealing with another matter for one of our clients.”
“I look forward to meeting him.” He’d been wondering how Alter would react to the judge’s hire.
“You’ll want to take some time to move into your office and get up-to-date on the cases we have in hand,” he continued briskly. “Trey will be relieved to have someone to share the load, since my judicial responsibilities keep me from taking a more active role.”
Jase nodded. Judge Morris couldn’t be involved in anything that might conceivably appear before his court, but that still left plenty of work. It had been assumed that the judge’s son would take over, but his death had changed things. There was obviously a need here.
He just wasn’t convinced that he was the right man to deal with it. He suppressed a grimace, thinking that old sayings became clichés because they were true most of the time. Beggars can’t be choosers.
“I’ve gone over the case material Alter sent me, and I’m ready to dive in right away.” He hesitated, but it had to be said. “As for the other matter we discussed, it’s not going to be easy to investigate your daughter-in-law in a town this size, not without making people suspicious.”
Morris’s jaw tightened. “I don’t expect you to mount a stakeout. Something a little subtler is required.”
“I see that, but I’m not sure what you think I can do.” Jason tried to keep his distaste for the strings that had been attached to the job offer from showing in his voice.
Swinging his chair around, the judge reached out to grasp a framed photo from the shelf behind him. He thrust it across the desk so that Jase could see it clearly. “My son. And my grandson.” The boy was hardly more than a toddler in the picture, face still round with babyhood curves. Frank hadn’t changed much from law school, still a good-looking guy, attractive to women, but with an ominous weakness about his mouth and chin.
Judge Morris paused, emotion working behind the facade of his judicial face. “Deidre was never good for Frank, never. He had a brilliant future here, could have become the youngest county court judge we’ve ever had. But she didn’t encourage him. From the day they married, she tried to separate Frank from his family.”
Not that unusual a story, was it? In-law relationships were notoriously dicey. Jase sought for a way to deliver an unpalatable truth. “Even so, I’m afraid that’s not a basis to file for custody of your grandson...”
“I do know something about the law.” Morris’s tone was icy. Maybe he realized it, because he shook his head quickly. “Of course not. My goal isn’t to take Kevin away from Deidre. She is his mother, after all. But she’s always been rather unstable, subject to irrational likes and dislikes, making quick decisions that end up hurting someone. If Frank were alive, he could serve as a balance to that...but he’s not, and I’m determined to do what I can to protect his son.”
This was becoming more unpalatable every minute. But how did he say no to someone who’d just given him his future back? “If you don’t intend to sue for custody, then what?”
“Leverage.” Judge Morris pronounced the word heavily. “I need leverage to convince Deidre that she and Kevin should move in with us. Once that happens, we’ll be able to provide the stability and the good life the boy needs. Without a father, subject to his mother’s whims... Well, I’m concerned about what will become of him.”
It sounded like the kind of messy, emotional case that had sent him into specializing in financial fraud, where the only emotion involved was greed. “Naturally you’re worried about your grandson. But I’m not sure what I can do.”
“Deidre is having an affair with a married man.” His expression was harsh with condemnation. “At least, that’s what my son thought. For all I know, that might have been what sent him speeding into a concrete wall. Find me proof, and I’ll know what to do with it.”
“If you’re sure of your facts...” he began.
Judge Morris stood abruptly, the framed photo in his hands. He stood at the window, staring down at the photo and then setting it back on its shelf, centering it carefully.
“In my position, I have to be careful. It wouldn’t do for a county court judge to be seen as collecting evidence against his own daughter-in-law. I don’t expect you to shadow her or sneak around taking photographs. You’re close to Deidre in age, living right next door. It shouldn’t be hard to gain her confidence and keep an eye on the situation.”
He caught Jase’s expression and gave a thin smile. “It wasn’t a coincidence that Evelyn rented the apartment in the old Moyer house for you. Deidre’s family home is the white colonial to the left as you face the house.”
“The place with the swing set in the backyard.” He could hardly help noticing it. His bedroom windows overlooked the property. Obviously the judge’s staff work was excellent. “There’s no guarantee that I can find anything to help you,” he warned.
Judge Morris gave a curt nod. “I accept that. Don’t imagine that your position here is conditional on success.” A muscle in his jaw worked. “Deidre is a manipulative woman who betrayed my son. I have to keep her from damaging my grandson.”
Manipulative. Betrayed. Did Judge Morris know that those words would strike fire in him? Maybe, maybe not, but it didn’t really matter. He already knew what his answer had to be.
“All right. I’ll do my best.” Now his jaw clenched. He didn’t have a very good track record when it came to outwitting a manipulative woman. But this time, at least, he was forewarned.
* * *
DRESSED FOR HER evening meeting, Deidre peeked into Kevin’s room. He’d been determined to stay awake until the arrival of Dixie, her neighbor, who’d offered to babysit tonight. But he was already sound asleep. She tiptoed to the sleigh bed that had been hers as a little girl and bent to kiss his smooth, rounded forehead. Kev slept with abandon, as always, one arm thrown over his head and his expression concentrated.
“Sweet dreams,” she whispered.
She’d told him that the bed, with its curved headboard and footboard like an old-fashioned sleigh, had always brought her good dreams. Maybe it worked for Kevin, too. Although he sometimes woke up in the middle of the night, he never seemed frightened, going back to sleep as quickly as he’d wakened.
Leaving the door ajar so Dixie would hear him if he called out, Deidre hurried downstairs, glancing at her watch. This first meeting of the Echo Falls Bicentennial Committee would probably be a fractious one, with representatives of every segment of town life in attendance. She’d promised to arrive early at the library and start the coffee—one of the inevitable chores falling to the only person on the library board who was under seventy.
A tap on the front door heralded Dixie’s arrival, and she came in without waiting for Deidre to answer. “Am I late?”
She slung her jean jacket over the nearest chair and pushed her black hair over her shoulders with a characteristic gesture. She eyed Deidre’s tan slacks, blue shirt and camel sweater with disappointment. “You look as if you expect this meeting to be boring. Why don’t you spice things up a little?”
Dixie herself wore a scarlet tank top that clung to every curve of her body. Her voluptuous body, Deidre amended. When they’d been kids together, and every other twelve-year-old girl had been straight as a board, Dixie had seemed to mature overnight into someone who’d befuddled the boys in their class and even drawn covert looks from a few male teachers.
Even though Dixie had returned after years away, divorced and apparently ready to start over, some things hadn’t changed. She still attracted males like a magnet. After all, single women their age were a rarity in Echo Falls.
“I’m representing the library board, remember? Besides, I don’t have the figure to wear something like that outfit.” She nodded to Dixie’s bright top and formfitting jeans.
Dixie tossed her hair back, laughing. “Sure you do. And I’d like to see the expressions on the old girls’ faces if you turned up in this.”
One thing about Dixie...she never apologized for anything she wore, said or did. It must be nice to feel that confident. Deidre never had, and she’d settled for an updated version of her mother’s style, typically small town, middle-class and designed not to raise a single eyebrow.
“I’m almost ready, and Kev is sleeping. I promised him you’d come in and kiss him good-night, but I didn’t promise you’d wake him up.” She retrieved her cell phone and tucked it into her bag.
“Okay, will do.” Dixie picked up the television remote but didn’t switch the set on, a sign she had something to say. “Did you see the new tenant next door yet?”
“Someone moved into the second-floor flat at last?” The old Moyer place had been converted into three apartments, with Dixie renting the top floor. “I hope they’re not going to be noisy.”
“Not they, he. Thirtyish, single and sexy. Just what we need in the neighborhood.”
Deidre gave her a look. “Had a long chat with him, did you?”
Dixie grinned. “We barely exchanged two words. But believe me, I didn’t need conversation to make up my mind about him. Lean, dark and tough-looking. He’s the brooding, dangerous type, and that suits me fine.”
She could only hope Dixie didn’t intend to launch herself headlong into a new romance. Her past was strewn with the guys she’d been convinced were the real thing. Needless to say, they hadn’t been.
“Who is this paragon? And what brings him to Echo Falls? Maybe you’d better be sure he’s going to hang around before you make a dead set at him.”
“That’s the thing.” For a moment Dixie looked uncertain, an unusual expression for her. “I hear he’s actually the new lawyer in your sainted father-in-law’s firm.” Dixie gave her a sidelong look. “You hadn’t heard?”
No, she hadn’t heard. Silly, to be bothered by the news that someone was taking Frank’s place. After all, it had been almost a year, and the firm was constantly busy.
“I knew they needed someone, but didn’t know they’d made a decision. Funny that the judge didn’t mention it when he was here today.”
She didn’t think her expression had changed at the mention of that visit, but Dixie knew her well.
“What’s he up to now?” She held up a hand to stop Deidre’s protest. “Don’t bother denying it. The judge is always up to something, isn’t he?”
Deidre shrugged. It would be a relief to vent to someone, and she and Dixie had been friends long enough for her to know Dixie was safe. “The same conversation we had before. I thought it was settled, but apparently not. He wants us to move in with him and Sylvia.” A chill slid down her spine at the thought.
Dixie abandoned her lounging posture on the sofa to sit bolt upright, anger flashing in her dark eyes. “You can’t be considering it. Move into that mausoleum? I’d rather be dead.”
“No, of course I’m not considering it. If I wouldn’t move in there when Frank was alive, I’m certainly not going to do it now. I couldn’t raise Kevin in that...” She couldn’t find a suitable word that was compatible with her sense of politeness.
“Mausoleum,” Dixie repeated. “Good. Don’t you even think of giving in to him.”
“I’m not,” she protested. “But you know what the judge is like.”
“He’s a boa constrictor.” Dixie spat out the words with more than her usual emphasis. “Get caught in his coils, and the next thing you know you’ll be digested, just like that poor wife of his.”
“Sylvia has other problems. I’m not sure her husband can do much for her.”
“He’s probably the one who drove her to alcohol to begin with,” Dixie muttered. “And you know how he treated Frank when he was growing up. You can’t let him get his hands on Kev.”
“I’m not going to.” She didn’t know when she’d seen Dixie so passionate. “All I have to do is keep saying no. He can’t force me. Honestly, Dixie, there’s no need to get so upset about it.”
“You’re too trusting, you know that? You think everyone’s as nice as you are. They’re not.”
Dixie’s reaction was fueling her own, and she had to look at this sensibly. “I’ve got to get going. Again, thanks so much for staying with Kev. And don’t worry about the judge. I’m not. Really.”
Deidre reminded herself of those brave words as she drove to the public library, just off the square in Echo Falls, and pulled into the parking lot behind the building. No worrying. Obsessing about Judge Morris’s plans wouldn’t do any good.
She shifted her focus firmly to the upcoming meeting. At least she wasn’t the first arrival. The lights were already on, a welcome given the fine mist that was forming.
She picked up the tote bag with the coffee and doughnuts and ducked through the mist to the back door, hurrying inside. In the flurry of greeting people and getting the refreshments ready, she managed to shove Judge Morris firmly to the back of her mind. Like Scarlett, she’d worry about that tomorrow.
The meeting was being held in what was normally a quiet reading area in front of the fireplace. Folding chairs had appeared to supplement the sofa and love seat donated by some library patron who’d probably been redecorating. Concentrating on refilling the doughnut tray, Deidre didn’t notice that someone was coming toward her until he spoke.
“Hard at work as always, I see.” Adam Bennett, the pastor of Grace Church, was mature enough to be aware of the status his collar gave him and young enough to be made a bit uncomfortable by it. He flushed now, as he often seemed to when he spoke to her.
“Not very,” she said, smiling. “Will you have a doughnut?”
“No, no, thank you.” He shied away as if his wife had lectured him about the dangers of fatty foods. “I wanted to introduce someone to you. Deidre, this is Jason Glassman, the new associate in Judge Morris’s office.”
For an instant Deidre could only stare at the man who’d come up behind Adam. Brooding and dangerous-looking indeed, as Dixie had said. His tailored suit and tie would be more at home in a big-city office, and his lean face gave one the impression of a man stripped down to the essentials and ready for action. There was nothing casual about the assessing look he turned on her, and she was suddenly aware of the sticky icing on her fingers.
When in doubt, take refuge in good manners, her mother always advised. Deidre wiped her hand on a napkin before extending it.
“Mr. Glassman, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m sure my father-in-law is relieved to have someone to...” She’d started to say assist, but this man didn’t look as if he’d ever been an assistant to anyone. “To take over the extra caseload. I know the office has been very busy.”
“Please, call me Jason.” His deep voice held nothing more than conventional courtesy, but the clasp of his hand lingered a bit too long, and his dark eyes studied and probed, as if to warn he’d know everything about her before he was finished. “I’m just getting settled in. I understand we’re neighbors, as well.”
“We’re all neighbors here in Echo Falls.” Adam glanced from one to the other as Deidre pulled her hand away, his voice uncertain. “I was just telling Jason how happy we’ll be to have his help with planning the celebration.”
“Not planning, just listening. I understand no one else was available tonight, and the judge thought the office should be represented. I’m just holding a watching brief.” The way his eyes held hers made it sound as if she were the one he was watching.
Deidre gave herself a mental shake and took a step back behind the protection of the coffee urn. Jason Glassman would have better luck turning his measuring look on Dixie. She’d know just how to respond.
“I see the chairwoman is ready to begin.” She nodded toward the fireplace, where Enid Longenberger was shuffling through her notes. “Maybe we’d better take our seats.” Busying herself with the arrangement of trays, Deidre gave the two men plenty of time to find chairs before she slipped into one as far away from Glassman’s disturbing presence as possible.
What had the judge been thinking? Surely he couldn’t picture this man settling into a quiet career in Echo Falls. He looked as if he’d be bored to death in a week. Certainly he did nothing to dismiss that opinion as he sat, eyes half-closed, through the inevitable suggestions, ranging from the mundane to pie-in-the-sky ideas that would only happen if a benevolent billionaire decided to lend a hand.
The meeting dragged on even longer than she’d expected, with Enid obviously determined to give everyone a chance to offer an opinion. Deidre found herself taking surreptitious glances at her watch. Dixie claimed to enjoy staying with Kevin, and she’d never let Deidre pay her, so she made a special effort not to keep Dixie out too late.
Finally, the subcommittees had been assigned, a general outline of ideas approved and the last grumbler had been satisfied. Enid banged down her gavel with an air of decision, and people started filing out the doors, some lingering to rehash the meeting with their friends, as they often did. Deidre kept herself busy clearing up the coffee service as the room slowly emptied. She didn’t think Jason Glassman would approach her again, and she didn’t want to give him any excuse to do so. Something about the man set her nerves on edge, and she didn’t think it was the attractiveness and underlying masculine sexuality that Dixie had obviously noted.
When she went outside, locking the back door behind her, Deidre realized she had dallied almost too long. The lot behind the library was empty except for her sedan, and darker than it usually seemed—or maybe that was just her mood.
The streetlamp in front of the building was blocked by the roof of the library, and the closest one in the other direction didn’t extend its light this far. The massive brick block of the bank building on the other side of the lot effectively hid it from view of anyone passing on Main Street, giving it an isolated feeling.
Deidre walked quickly to the car, heels echoing on the concrete, fingers clasped around her keys. She’d never felt unsafe in Echo Falls after dark, and she wasn’t going to let an odd case of nerves make her start now. Unlocking the car, she slid in and slammed the door, feeling like a rabbit darting into its hole.
She turned the key in the ignition, listening for the comforting purr of the motor. The engine gave a sputter, a grinding sound and then stopped. Nothing. She tried again. She couldn’t have stalled it. But there was still nothing. The engine was dead.
It was pointless to keep turning the key. Fumbling for her cell phone, she tried to come up with the most sensible course of action. If she called the auto club, they’d undoubtedly send someone out from Williamsport, a good thirty miles away, and she’d be stuck here for an hour. She could try one of the people who’d been at the meeting, but they wouldn’t be home yet, and she suspected none of them were entered on her cell phone. If Dixie weren’t babysitting—
A sharp rap on the window next to her sent her heart jolting into overdrive. She turned to see Jason Glassman peering in at her, his strong-featured face an ominous mask in the dim light.
“Trouble?” He raised an eyebrow, giving his face a hint of caricature, and she was swept with a feeling that trouble was exactly what the man represented.
