A Perfect Evil. Alex Kava
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Название: A Perfect Evil
Автор: Alex Kava
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Зарубежные любовные романы
isbn: 9781848450240
isbn:
“Because of Matthew?”
“We don’t know what’s happened to Matthew yet. He may have just gotten upset and run away from home. You shouldn’t say anything about Matthew.” She shouldn’t have told Timmy about Matthew. Though she had promised to be open and honest with her son after Bruce left, this was not something she should have shared with him. Besides, very few people even knew about Matthew. This panic was in response to her articles. Just the mention of Ronald Jeffreys invoked a protectiveness in parents. This was the same panic parents had displayed when Jeffreys had been on the prowl.
Christine recognized Richard Melzer from KRAP radio.
He hurried up the sidewalk in his trench coat, carrying his briefcase and holding the hand of a small blond girl, his daughter no doubt. Christine needed to get to Michelle Tanner’s as soon as possible. It wouldn’t be long before others found out about Matthew.
The line moved along at a crawl, and she searched for an opening. Perhaps she could just let Timmy out here. She knew he wouldn’t mind, except everyone would notice.
“Mom?”
“Timmy, we’re moving as fast as possible.”
“Mom, I’m pretty sure Matthew wouldn’t just run away from home.”
She glanced at her small son perched on his feet, watching the unusual parade outside his window. His hair stuck up where he had plastered down the cowlick. The sprinkle of freckles only made his skin more pale. When had this little boy grown so wise? She should have felt proud, yet this morning it made her a little sad that she could no longer preserve his innocence.
CHAPTER 18
Brightly colored stained-glass figures stared down from their heavenly perch. The scent of burning incense and candle wax filled Maggie’s nostrils. Why was it that being inside of a Catholic church always made her feel as if she was twelve again? Immediately, she thought of the black bra and panties she wore—too much lace, an inappropriate color. The butt of her gun stabbed into her side. She reached inside her jacket and readjusted the shoulder strap. Should she even be carrying a gun inside a church? Of course, she was being ridiculous.
She glanced over her shoulder as if expecting to see a casket being rolled up the aisle behind them. She could still hear the click-clack of rollers, the soft tap of a dozen leather shoes marching in unison along with her father’s casket. When she looked up, Morrelli was watching her, waiting for her at the altar.
“Everything okay?”
He had left her hotel room at five o’clock to go home, shower, shave and change clothes. When he arrived two hours later to pick her up, she hardly recognized him. His short hair was neatly combed back. His face was clean-shaven, and the white scar on his chin—even more pronounced—added a rugged edge to his good looks. Underneath his denim jacket he wore a white shirt and black tie with crisp blue jeans and shiny black cowboy boots. It was a stretch from the customary brown uniforms the rest of his department wore, but he still looked official. Perhaps it was simply the way he carried himself, straight and tall, self-assured with long, confident strides.
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