Part 11 (2/2)
”Thank you,” she said. ”It wasn't very long ago.” She hoped he would get the message.
”How long ago?”
How long ago? Marty had asked the same thing. Not nosy, just interested. Sympathetic. Holly had brushed it off then, but she couldn't do that any longer. She'd decided on three months. That would be recent enough to still be grieving and have an excuse to avoid relations.h.i.+ps, yet long enough to be a reasonable time to resettle. ”Three months,” she said.
It worked. He started paying more attention to the hamburgers. He would have been an insensitive clod not to get the message and, thank G.o.d, he wasn't that.
”This is a friendly community,” he finally said as he put fragrant hamburgers on a plate. ”If you need anything, call one of us. Marty calls me all the time if she needs something fixed, and Jim's our computer guru.”
She released a long, grateful breath. Friends.h.i.+p. He was just offering neighborly friends.h.i.+p, as the rest of them were.
Then reality struck again. Would they do that if they knew she was a murderess?
She and her son were here on borrowed time. Was it possible for either of them to have friends ... to have any sort of normal life? Was tonight a mistake?
Looking at her son and hearing his laughter as he played chase with the dogs and another small boy, her heart warmed. He needed this. He didn't need expensive day schools and formal clothes and a demanding father. He needed play and fun and friends and warmth.
He took that moment to give her a wide grin of sheer delight.
Her heart broke. For him. For her.
”Elizabeth?”
She heard the name but for a moment it didn't register. She turned back to Russ and saw his puzzled look. ”I'm sorry. Everyone calls me Liz.”
”Liz then,” he said easily.
The hamburgers were ready. Marty insisted she and Harry go to the head of the line. ”The cooks are always first. That's the only way we can get them.”
Holly fixed a plate for both Harry and herself, then searched for a place to sit. The one table on the front porch was already filled with people talking to one another. She found a step, happy to be alone with Harry for a few minutes. Others also found steps or a swing on the porch. Marty came over. ”There's room at the table.”
Holly smiled and shook her head. ”We're settled now. Thank you.”
Marty gave her an understanding look, then retreated.
Holly was grateful. No more questions this way. She was happy to be with her son, to know that he was safe.
The hamburger was delicious, far more delicious than a steak at one of the famous New Orleans restaurants she'd frequented with Randolph. Perhaps the flavor came from the mesquite wood or the smoke rising up into a clear night, or the unconstrained laughter or the dogs chasing one another around. She did not have to worry about saying something that her husband would dislike and let her know about later.
The hamburger suddenly lost its taste. She placed the remainder on the plate and looked at the others. Laughing. Talking easily. She was the outsider, would always have to be the outsider. How she longed to be one of them.
A car parked at the road in front of the steps--a sheriff's car. Her heart stopped as a uniformed officer stepped out.
She wanted to run, or hide.
The officer was alone. Tall with a solid teddy bear build. Black hair. Dark brown eyes. Certainly part, if not all, Hispanic and about the same age as Russ the rancher.
Marty went down to meet him, and they both climbed the steps to where she sat. Terror spiked in her chest. She tried not to let it show.
But there was no sternness in his eyes. Instead he knelt in front of Harry. ”Hi, young man,” he said.
Harry looked at her, then back. ” 'Ello,” he said noncommittally.
Marty broke in. ”Liz, this is Sheriff Doug Menelo. Doug, Liz Baker.”
”Marty showed me your sculpture of a frog,” he said. ”My niece fell in love with it.”
'Niece'. Not daughter. Or wife. Evidently Marty had dragged out every single man in Bisbee to meet her.
”Thank you,” she said.
”Thank 'you'. It solved my birthday present problem.” His smile crinkled his face, especially around the eyes. If it hadn't been for the uniform, she would have been charmed.
She stood. ”Which reminds me, I should get home. Marty has ordered more.”
”Indeed I have, but all work and no play--”
”Work satisfies me,” Holly broke in. ”And it's getting to be Harry's bedtime.”
”Did you drive?” Sheriff Menelo said.
”I walked.”
”That's a fair distance,” he said. ”Can I drive you both home?”
How did he know where she lived? Or did everyone know that a widow and her son had moved into town?
She wanted to take Harry and flee. Yet then she might not be able to sell her sculptures, and money was imperative. Her little creatures were one of the few things she could do to raise money without needing a. Social Security card. She had been waiting daily for the birth certificate to arrive in the mail. Until she had that, she couldn't apply for a Social Security card.
And Caesar? It wouldn't be easy to find another place that would take pets. She could never take the dog away from her son. Not after seeing the pure joy on his face whenever they were together.
But now she had caught the attention of someone in the sheriff's department. What if photos of her or Harry were circulated to various law enforcement agencies?
”Thank you,” she said again, ”but we need the exercise. And it feels safe here.”
”It is for the most part,” he said. ”I'll leave you then to finish. If you change your mind ...” He gave her another warm smile, then took a plate and filled it with food before sitting in a chair just vacated by someone else.
'Ride in a police car'? The very thought made her tremble. She hoped he didn't notice her shaking hands. She looked down at Harry's plate. The hamburger was gone. So were the pepper-flavored beans and spicy cole slaw.
Harry's attention was focused on several cakes sitting on the serving table.
She was not going to get away until he had a piece.
She only wished her gaze didn't continue to go toward Sheriff Menelo as someone picked up a guitar, sat on a rock and started strumming.
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