Just a Whisper Away. Lauren Nichols

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      “I’ll try. Good night. And thank you for being such a good friend.”

      “You’re very welcome, my girl,” he murmured, then hung up.

      Abbie closed her phone and returned it to the charger, a shiver racking her as her mind overflowed with thoughts of courtrooms and juries and friendships and bullets… And then, finally, Jace. She’d thought often about how a meeting between them would go if they ever spoke again. But in her imagination, she’d always made sure it went well. Tonight…tonight had hurt.

      There was nothing she could do about the situation in L.A. but wait and hope. But maybe she could do something about this fourteen-year-old mess.

      Really? a small voice inquired. Or do you just want to see him again? You’re still thinking about that kiss.

      “Shut up,” she muttered. She had enough to deal with right now without hoping for more than an uneasy truce. And it would be uneasy. He wasn’t the type to forgive and forget fourteen years of resentment at the drop of an apology.

      There was a light knock at her door, followed by her father’s low voice. Though it was gruff, she heard a faint softening in it. “Abbie? Miriam’s putting a pot of decaf on. If you like, you can join us downstairs for coffee and dessert.”

      They’d just had dessert at the country club, but earlier, Miriam had mentioned buying petits fours so they’d have something to nibble after the gala.

      Abbie crossed the oak floor and opened the door. After more courtroom confrontations than she could count, she did her best to avoid them in her personal life, and tonight was no exception. Besides, this was the closest her father was ever going to come to an apology.

      He was still in costume but, wigless now, his thinning salt-and-pepper hair stuck to his scalp.

      “Coffee, huh?” she said.

      “Yes, some damn thing called chocolate-raspberry truffle. If you’re game, she’s grinding the beans now.”

      Abbie worked up a smile she didn’t feel, determined to salvage at least part of the night. Determined to put Danny Long out of her mind. “Of course, I’m game. I live in the nutcase capital of the world. Just give me a minute to jump into sweats, and I’ll be down.”

      Grinning, Danny clicked on the light beside his unmade sleeper sofa and turned up the volume on his thirteen-inch TV—just in case the cops sitting at the end of the street felt like ignoring the order to keep their distance. Then he slipped his black hoodie over his T-shirt, pulled the hood over his hair and slung the strap of his crammed duffel bag across his chest.

      He crossed to the rear window in his second floor efficiency apartment.

      It was dark now, but the moon was high. Luckily, the only people in his neighborhood who went out after eleven o’clock were the druggies and the hookers who worked the streets. Raising the window, Danny eased himself through the opening, stepped onto the sloping back porch roof, then pulled the window shut. Usually, he left it open a crack, but tonight he wouldn’t have to. He wouldn’t be coming back.

      Backing off the roof, he reached into the rainspout for the plastic sandwich bag he’d taped there, stuffed it in his pocket…and dropped soundlessly to the grass below.

      Then he headed for the shack where heroine addict Eddie Parker lived with his girlfriend Leticia. Last year, he’d caught Eddie shoplifting cold medicine for resale at Danny’s ex-workplace but hadn’t turned him in. Two-time loser Eddie had been so grateful he hadn’t gone to jail, he’d promised Danny the moon. He’d phoned Eddie earlier from one of the three track phones he’d bought at a discount electronics place and, big surprise, Eddie needed money again. Which worked out great for both of them because Danny needed Eddie’s crappy yellow ninety-four Olds Cutlass.

      He also needed a favor and knew Eddie wouldn’t refuse.

      When he got there forty minutes later, Eddie was in a bad way, chewing gum hard and talking fast as Danny clued him in behind Eddie’s whitewashed block bungalow.

      Eddie swiped at the perspiration over his lip, light from inside the house illuminating his small, fidgety build. “Okay. Yeah, I can do that,” Eddie said. “When do you want me to go by your place?”

      “Tomorrow—after dark. Use the side stairs. Walk around in front of the windows, turn on the TV. Then, around midnight, shut off the lights like you’re going to sleep. The unmarked cop car I told you about will be sitting at the end of the street. Don’t leave until it does—and don’t let anybody see you up close.”

      Reaching into his duffel, Danny handed over one of his track phones, his red San Francisco 49ers ball cap and a box of hair bleach that would turn Eddie into a blonde. “Keep the phone with you,” he ordered. “I’ll call you the next time I need your help. Every time you do me a favor, I’ll send you one hundred dollars. But don’t go wearing the hat and showing yourself around unless I tell you to. And don’t say you did what I asked if you didn’t, because I’ll know.”

      Nodding, licking his lips, Eddie took the five one hundred dollar bills Danny separated from the wad in his jeans pocket, then turned over the keys to the Olds.

      “It’s all gassed up, Danny.”

      “Good. One more thing. Don’t tell Leticia about this.” Then Danny remembered to smile—be charming and caring. “Hey, Eddie?”

      “Yeah?”

      “Take care of yourself while I’m gone, buddy.”

      Two hours later, heading east on I-15, the breathless tickle in his belly became too much, and Danny pulled to the side of the road, stripped off his sweatshirt and took a roll of clear utility tape from his pack. Then he reached in his pocket for the sandwich bag. His pulse quickened as two shiny gold crosses and chains slid out and curled into his palm.

      Suddenly, tears welled in his eyes, and he eased his head back against the seat. Maryanne had seemed so pure, so sweet, so perfect for him. But, like his mother and Prudence, she’d betrayed him, singing like an angel in church…then giving it up to any guy who bought her a burger and fries when the last note left her lying lips.

      He stopped crying immediately and raised his chin. He’d loved her—loved her blindly, just like he’d loved Prudence—but she’d lied, and she’d gotten what she deserved. Clicking on the dome light, Danny slipped Prudence’s chain and cross around his neck and felt that excitement in his blood again. Then he reexamined the broken chain he’d torn from Maryanne’s throat. He’d fix it later, but for now…

      Lifting his white T-shirt, he ripped off a section of tape, then pressed the necklace above his left nipple and sealed it to his skin. A tingle moved through him.

      Yesterday, he’d found out that his lying, betraying bitch of an ex-lawyer had left town and it could be weeks until she came back. The whiner in the next cell had made a big stink when somebody else from Braddock and McMillain showed up to take his case. The whiner wanted her and only her.

      Danny pulled his sweatshirt back on, then dropped the Cutlass into gear and eased out on the road again. Too bad for the whiner.

      He had a few things to do first—plans to make and information to gather. But when he was through with Abbie Winslow, there wouldn’t be enough of her СКАЧАТЬ