Father Formula. Muriel Jensen

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ gave her a scolding look over her shoulder as she pulled a lined raincoat out of the closet. “Lex, you’re going to be here with him for at least a week helping with the boys while David’s in New York and I close up my office. You have to buff up your attitude.”

      “He keeps making smart remarks to me.”

      “In response to your smart remarks.” Athena grinned. “You’re just upset because he got the better of you in that little altercation when you thought he’d broken in.”

      “Sure he did.” Alexis avoided her sister’s glance as she picked up her tote bag off the bed. “He’s bigger and he didn’t mind using his muscle.”

      “It was dark,” Athena defended him. “He thought you were attacking him!”

      Alexis had a clear memory of McGinty sprawled over her body on the kitchen floor as the frying pan she’d wielded flew through the air and crashed into the dishes on the drying rack. She remembered gasping for breath, certain her back would break.

      She sighed dispiritedly. “To think I went to self-defense classes two nights a week for three months.”

      Athena laughed and opened the door. “I’m sure the training Uncle Sam gave him was more heavy-duty than your class at the Rome Y. You’re sure you want us to leave the boys and the dog with you? Dotty will be gone until next Monday. You’ll have to—” Athena grinned apologetically “—you know, remember to feed them, see that the boys get to school, walk the dog.”

      In acquiring David as her husband, Athena had also acquired the care of his two half brothers, Brandon, twelve, and Brady, ten. Alexis had known them just a matter of days, but she thought they were wonderful.

      Equally wonderful was Ferdie, the boys’ 110-pound Great Dane and Saint Bernard mix.

      Alexis rolled her eyes at her. “I think I can handle that. I can’t believe that you’ve turned from a warrior into some kind of Donna Reed and you still think of me as incompetent.”

      Athena turned to her, an aggressive tilt to her chin. “I do not think you’re incompetent. It’s just that, as an artist, you sometimes forget the normal, day-to-day things.”

      “Yeah, well, I’m not much of an artist at the moment.” Alexis pushed her gently out the door. “And though I know your trip east isn’t exactly for pleasure, I’m sure the two of you can use a little space after all you’ve been through since Gusty was pulled out of the water. And we can’t even continue the search for her until Holden gets an answer on the passenger lists.”

      Brandon and Brady had confused Athena with a redheaded woman they’d seen at the Portland Airport while running away from their mother’s home to stay with David. It had been the first time Gusty had been seen since she’d disappeared from the hospital.

      Since then, Officer Holden of the Astoria Police, who’d been handling the investigation, had been checking the passenger lists for flights arriving at the baggage carousel where the boys had seen Gusty. It was a long and tedious process.

      She’d been traveling with a man the boys had described as “scary looking,” and the police were checking the identity of every passenger, presuming that they were probably traveling under assumed names, since Gusty reportedly no longer remembered hers.

      Alexis wrapped her free arm around Athena’s shoulders as they walked down the hallway to the stairs. “I’m sorry I wasn’t around to help you the past couple of weeks.”

      Athena dismissed her apology with a shake of her head. “My only concern was that, when I couldn’t locate you either, I wasn’t sure which one of you they’d found.”

      Alexis made a scornful sound. “Like I’d ever turn up seven months pregnant.”

      Athena gave her a look Alexis found unsettling—as though she had knowledge Alexis didn’t share. “Someday,” she said with a curious little smile, “you’ll meet the right man and wonder why you ever thought that.” Then Athena squared her shoulders before going down the stairs. “The boys, the dog. Holden’s number on the fridge. Is there anything I haven’t covered?”

      This efficiency was a glimpse of the old Athena and Alexis frankly considered it a relief.

      “No, I’ll take it from here. Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll look after everything and prod Holden every day for something to go on. You just enjoy the East Coast and your new husband. Maybe we’ll even have Gusty here to welcome you back.”

      At the bottom of the stairs Athena wrapped her arms around her and for a moment they held each other fiercely, trying to make up for the gap Gusty’s absence created in their lives.

      “Yes,” Athena said, composed again. “Try to make that happen. I’ll call you from D.C.” She picked up her bag and started out the door toward the car.

      Alexis followed with her tote bag.

      “And don’t start any fights with Trevyn.”

      “He’s the one who starts everything,” Alexis argued.

      “Yeah, right.” Athena countered.

      TREVYN MCGINTY HELPED his friend and landlord, David Hartford, pile luggage into the trunk of David’s blue sedan. “Now, if you sell your book to these guys,” Trevyn said, moving the toolbox and blankets aside to make room for David’s brown leather bags, “what’s the first thing you’re supposed to demand in your contract?”

      David handed him a fat briefcase. “That my portrait on the dust cover be taken by you.”

      Everything in place, Trevyn dusted off his hands and patted David on the back. “Very good. I’m glad I saved your life that time in Bangkok after all.”

      “As I recall, the idol I was hiding behind saved my life.”

      “Only because I arrived in time to return fire.”

      “You were three minutes late.”

      “And you’re still here to continually remind me of that. Where’s Bram, anyway? He can’t still be in Mexico.”

      “He is. That wayward husband he was following loaded his SUV with pretty girls at the Barkley Regis and Bram followed him—into Mexico. He called me before he crossed the border. Some kind of big meeting going on, or something.”

      Bram Bishop had often been the third member of their CIA team, a security expert with more than twenty years experience. He’d retired with them almost ten months ago and had opened a detective agency in downtown Dancer’s Beach. He lived in the apartment above Cliffside’s four-car garage.

      Trevyn frowned. “You think it’s drugs? White slavers?”

      “I don’t know. I haven’t heard from him since. I tried to call him a couple of times when Gusty was first reported missing for some advice on where to start a search, but I couldn’t get through on his cell phone.”

      “How long’s it been?”

      “Three weeks.”

      Trevyn considered that, then dismissed it. СКАЧАТЬ