Dead Even - Mariah Stewart [53]
“True enough. Yeah, I’ll probably take a run in.”
“Well, maybe I’ll see you there.”
“Okay. See you. And thanks. For the bed in the middle of the night. For thinking to make breakfast for me.”
“Anytime,” he said, and disconnected.
Will sat on the edge of the desk and tried to decide if Miranda had really left because she was wide awake, or if she just didn’t want the intimacy of facing him over breakfast this morning. It was a tough call. Given their history, just friends might be harder to pull off than he’d expected.
On the other hand, maybe friendship is overrated.
He tapped restless fingers on the desk, then went into the kitchen, where he tried to analyze the situation while he finished making breakfast for himself. Midway through the first stack of French toast he decided a phone call was in order. Between bites, he dialed Anne Marie McCall’s cell and left a message.
By the time he finished eating, she’d returned the call and agreed to meet him at the office at one.
Back to work, he told himself as he drained his coffee cup and deposited it, along with his plate, in the dishwasher. Keep it focused. Don’t let the bad guys win.
Watch Miranda’s back . . .
Genna peered out the window and watched the snow pile higher around the fence that outlined the compound. She’d been hoping that the storm would pass by this time, but she’d had no such luck. For the second day in a row, the snow continued to drift. If it didn’t stop soon, there’d be no way she’d be able to leave the compound that afternoon with Caroline, the girl whose essay on self-discipline had been chosen as the best of the week.
Last week’s trip into Linden had been uneventful, but of course, that was the point.
She and Eileen had ridden with Daniel, a large, dour man who rarely strayed far from the reverend’s side. When he parked next to the local market, Genna and her charge had jumped out. Knowing Daniel watched every step she took, Genna had put a hand on Eileen’s arm to hold her back. Together she and the girl had walked—slowly—to the chain drugstore in the center of town. Once inside, the normally shy Eileen perked up a bit. After having been behind the gates of the compound for several months, she was dazzled by the array of products, as if she’d forgotten what it was like to shop. Then again, hadn’t Genna heard that Eileen had lived in shelters and on the streets for the past three years? Even a modest shop might have been beyond her means.
With Genna by her side, the girl wandered from aisle to aisle, touching hair clips in one, nail polish in another, a long-handled bath brush in yet another.
“Do you see anything you’d like to have?” Genna asked.
“I don’t know.” Eileen had studied a box of fake nails. “Everything looks so . . . fun.”
“Why not look for something you can enjoy for a long time?” Genna suggested. “I noticed that you like to write poetry. Perhaps you’d like a special notebook and a pen to write your poems with.”
It had taken almost forty-five minutes, but Eileen had finally selected a fat spiral notebook with a cover the color of blue denim, and a pale yellow pen that wrote with blue ink.
“Thank you, Miss Ruth.” Eileen had beamed when they left the store. “Thank you so much.”
“You earned it. It’s your reward for having done well with your essay.”
They stood at the corner where the two main streets of Linden intersected. Across the street and down two blocks, the Linden Diner marked the boundary of the small town.
“We’ll have lunch at the diner there,” Genna had told her. “But we’ll have to watch the time. We don’t want to be late meeting up with Daniel.”
Eileen had taken forever to order from the menu, giving them precious little time to eat. Spurred on by Jayne the waitress, Eileen had finally settled on a hamburger and fries, and an old-fashioned milk shake. Not having any particular interest in food, Genna ordered the same, then wondered if she’d be able to safely manage a phone call. She knew from her visit here on the day she first entered the compound that the phone was back behind the door leading