No Place To Run. Marion Faith Laird
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Читать онлайн книгу No Place To Run - Marion Faith Laird страница 13

СКАЧАТЬ door that they had firmly locked.

      Ike frowned. “That doesn’t sound good, but I can’t say I’m surprised the locks didn’t hold up. Those old locks should have been changed decades ago. Windows, too. A kid with a bobby pin could unlock them. You want me to come by tomorrow and have a look?”

      “I was hoping you’d offer.” Lorie leaned back in the uncomfortable blue plastic chair as Pastor Enoch headed for the wireless microphone. Maybe she could relax, after all.

      * * *

      The next morning, Lorie arrived at work earlier than usual to meet her cousin-by-marriage. She showed him the damage outside then took him inside to the office.

      Ike scrutinized the door handle. “It doesn’t look like it was tampered with. Unlike the window, which I got to replace.” His slow drawl sounded like home. The home where she’d forgotten she belonged.

      “So how many keys are you gonna want for the office?”

      “One.”

      “You should at least have two, so you’ll have a spare. What if you lost it?”

      “I’d call you.”

      Ike grinned. “The lock comes with two keys, anyway.”

      “Okay. I guess I can live with that.”

      “You know, if you really want security, you should get a different type of door. One without a window in it.” Ike tapped the gold-painted OFFICE with a tan index finger. “Good blow with a hammer on this plain glass and they’d be right in there.”

      Lorie shrugged. “Technically it isn’t my door. I’ll have enough explaining to do to the county library board when they find out I authorized the changes.”

      Ike set his toolbox down onto the pinewood floor with a resounding clang. “You need somebody to back you up, just give us a call. Tammy and I’ll speak up for you. Now, I’ll get the measurements on the window after I fix the door. Should have it in for you by the end of the day.”

      “Thanks, Ike.”

      She left him to the work, the whir of his battery-powered drill driver reminding her of the leaf blower that used to stalk her neighborhood in San Diego. That noisy monstrosity was one thing she hadn’t heard a lot of in Dainger County. She hoped that would never change.

      The reminder of the place she used to call home turned her stomach to acid. Would she ever again be able to think of her dear city without raw memories of death’s aftermath?

      Only God knew.

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