[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

get so out of shape. In the past few months she had gone from a daily run to managing to fit one in once a
week. Between that and the difference in their strides, she was hurting.
By the halfway point, however, her endorphins kicked in and the discomfort eased. Hunter drew ahead;
she didn't try to keep up. Instead, she luxuriated in the pure pleasure of being outdoors, lungs, heart and
muscles working in tandem.
"Meet me at the pond," he called over his shoulder.
She indicated she would, then watched as he pulled away.
When she arrived, Hunter was waiting for her, Sarah panting at his side. The way Avery figured it, she'd
been about six minutes behind him.
He passed her a water bottle. "I'd forgotten that about you."
"What?" She accepted the bottle and took a long swallow.
"How determined you are."
She took another swallow, then handed the bottle back. "You mean pigheaded."
"Sometimes." His mouth twitched. "Personally, I believe determination is an admirable trait."
Sarah stood and wandered down to the pond. Avery watched longingly as she waded in for a drink. The
water looked delicious.
"Go ahead," he said. "Take a dip. It's spring fed."
"In your dreams, Stevens."
"I didn't say skinny-dip. You, Ms. Chauvin, have a dirty mind."
"Actually, I don't think I'm the one with the dirty mind." She stood and crossed to the water's edge.
Kneeling, she splashed water on her face, soaking her shirt in the process.
She glanced down at the now-transparent fabric. So much for modesty. Hell with it, she decided,
unbuttoning the clinging fabric.
"Don't look," she ordered, glancing at him over her shoulder.
He rested back on an elbow. "Depends on what I'm going to miss."
"Hunter," she warned, narrowing her eyes at his cheesy smile.
"All right. No peeking, scout's honor."
She waited until he had dutifully turned his head, then peeled off her blouse.
"Very pretty."
She whirled around, wet blouse to her chest. "You looked."
"Of course I did." He laughed. "Can't stop a bird dog from hunting."
"Or a snake from striking."
He laid back, hands folded behind his head and gazed up at the blue sky. "Your honor's safe, doll. Most
bathing suits reveal more than that bra, pretty as it is."
He had a point. She soaked her blouse in the chilly water, then draped the dripping fabric across her
shoulders. The water sluiced over her shoulders and breasts, leaving trails of goose bumps in their wake.
She made her way back to where he rested. To his credit, he didn't look at her.
"What did you want to talk to me about?"
She hesitated, reluctant to ruin the warm, relaxed mood with talk of murder, then asked anyway.
"Wondered if you could tell me anything about the St. Claire murder."
He didn't act surprised by her question. "What do you want to know?"
"The Gazette didn't say how she died."
"It's pretty grim."
"I think I can take it."
He tilted his face toward hers. "A sharp object was repeatedly inserted into her vaginal canal. Tore her
insides to shreds. She bled to death."
Avery hugged herself, suddenly cold. "Who was she?"
"Dad knew her. Party girl. Heavy drinker. Spent a little time in jail."
Anyone whose actions fell outside what was considered right, moral or neighborly was singled out.
A woman like Elaine St. Claire fit that description. But she was also the kind who put herself in
dangerous situations.
"They have any suspects?"
"Just me."
"Funny."
"I'm not laughing." He lay back again, draping an arm across his eyes. "Dad and Matt, in their infinite
wisdom, are looking no further than the first to the scene."
"I find that difficult to believe."
He shrugged. "Could just be me, still chafing under Matt's interrogation. Wondered where I'd been that
day between the hours of four in the afternoon and eight that night."
"And where were you?"
"Working on the novel. Nobody but Sarah for an alibi."
She didn't know what to say so she said nothing.
"Why so interested?" he asked.
Good question. How did she answer it? She decided on blunt-ness. "You have any doubt my dad killed
himself?"
He sat up at that one. Looked at her. "Where did that come from?"
Ignoring the question, she tipped her face to the sky, then returned her gaze to his. "You'd become
friends. Spent some time with him. Do you have any doubt he took his own life?"
For a long moment, he said nothing. When he spoke, his tone was heavy with regret. "No, Avery. I'm
sorry."
A knot of tears clogged her throat. She pressed on. "Why?" He looked at her. "Talking about this isn't
going to change anyth "
"Why, Hunter? Tell me."
"All right." He sat up. "I hadn't been back in Cypress Springs a week when your dad looked me up. I
appreciated it. A lot. He didn't ask too many questions, didn't make me explain why or justify my actions.
He did it for me, but I think, for himself, too. He needed somebody to talk to.
"Anyway, it worked for both of us and we started meeting every Friday morning for coffee. Then, one
Friday, he didn't show. So I went by the house, found him still in his pajamas. All the blinds drawn. He
insisted he had simply overslept, but he was acting... strange. Different."
"Different? What do you mean?"
"Jumpy, I guess. He didn't look me in the eye. After that, our meetings became sporadic. Our
conversations...less comfortable. He began talking a lot about the old days. When your mom was alive
and you were home. Never about the future, rarely about the here and now."
Hunter let out a long breath. "It should have rung a warning bell, but it didn't. I'm sorry," he said again. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

zanotowane.pl

doc.pisz.pl

pdf.pisz.pl

skierniewice.pev.pl