Angel Fire - Lisa Unger [83]
The man nodded and then pulled the van into the garage when Greg lifted the heavy door open.
There was something about this man Greg didn’t like. There was something in his gaze that seemed off balance, that made Greg a bit uneasy. His eyes were bloodshot and his thinning hair looked as if it hadn’t been washed in days. Greg couldn’t imagine where he was going to work, in heavily muddied jeans and a black sweatshirt that looked like it had been stained with oil or paint.
A quick check under the steering column revealed two loose ignition wires which Greg quickly tightened. He tested the ignition and the engine caught right away. Good. Now the guy could leave.
“Just a second,” Greg said to the man, “let me just check one more thing.” He couldn’t believe what he was doing and he didn’t know why, but he slipped under the car. He pulled a pen out of his pocket and wrote the vehicle-identification number on his arm where he could pull his sleeve back down over it.
“Well, sir. It was just a couple of loose wires. I tightened them and you’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“Thanks. How much do I owe you?”
“Forget it; it really was no trouble.”
“Sure?”
“Yeah. My father would kill me, says I’m not much of a businessman. But I just can’t see charging people for nothing. So maybe you’ll bring your car back when there’s a real problem or tell your friends about our garage.”
“You bet. Thanks a lot. Mind if I use your restroom?”
“Outside and around back,” said Greg, following him out.
When the man rounded the corner of the building, Greg wrote down the license-plate number. It was probably a silly thing to do, there were so many green minivans around.
The sky was a crystalline blue and there was a light breeze. Greg looked up and immediately saw two vultures circling low off in the distance. Today was something’s last sunrise, thought Greg. He didn’t notice the driver coming up fast behind him as he turned and headed back into the garage.
chapter twenty
Jeffrey awoke before Lydia the following morning and lay beside her, watching her breathe, watching the delicate rise and fall of her chest. One arm was draped over her rib cage, one thrown above her head, hair spread around her pillow. He brushed a jet-black strand from her cheek and allowed himself to be overwhelmed. She opened her eyes slightly, peered at him through lowered lids, and smiled.
“Feel okay?” she asked.
“Never better. You?”
“I feel good,” she said simply. “This feels …”
“Natural?”
“Yeah. I just thought it might be weird, after all these years, to wake up beside you like this. But it feels like I’m finally in the right place, you know?”
“I know,” he said kissing her lightly on the mouth.
“The temptation is to lie here all day with you, but we really need to get moving,” said Lydia as she sighed, sitting up and looking at the clock.
“You’re right,” he said, the memory of last night’s events and the knowledge that Lydia was in danger moving over his thoughts like a stormcloud. “Let’s go talk to Benny Savroy.”
—
The home of Benjamin Savroy and his mother, Greta, looked like a gingerbread house in all its impossible charm and sweetness. Painted red with white shutters, each windowsill held a colorful flowerbox. The lawn was perfectly manicured and lined with lush green shrubs and a white picket fence. Lydia and Jeffrey approached the house by its cobblestone walkway. To the right of the path was a gorgeous flower garden, as lush and well tended as the church garden. She noted many of the same plants and the same wet black earth that she had seen at the Holy Name. She wondered if Benny tended both gardens.
They were greeted at the door by a woman who looked like everyone’s favorite grandmother. Small and plump, with thick gray hair pulled into a braided bun, Greta was wearing a red T-shirt under a denim jumper. Her ruddy complexion seemed to glow and her blue eyes sparkled with warmth and kindness.
“Listen,” she said with an unmistakable