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Authors: Laurie Breton
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might be able to reclaim the life he’d stolen from her.
For Sophie’s sake, she had to find a way out of this mess. She didn’t worry so much about herself. No matter what happened, she would never return to Mississippi. She’d made that decision the day she left. She had chosen to live in Serenity and she was putting down roots. No matter what the future brought, she had every intention of staying here.
But it was different for Sophie. A young girl her age needed a future that was wide open. It wasn’t fair to hobble her to a muddied past and a fictitious present. Certainly staying alive, staying ahead of Brogan, was their main priority. But for Sophie, it wasn’t enough. There had to be more. And there was only one way Annie could ensure her daughter’s futurehappiness. She had to bring Luke Brogan down. Maybe, somehow, Rachel Feldman could help.
Her cell phone, a gift from Uncle Bobby, rang. Annie hesitated for a moment before she answered it. There was only one person who had the number, and if he was calling her this late at night, it wasn’t with good news.
“Did I wake you?” Bobby asked.
“No. I’m just sitting here, trying to wind down. It’s been quite a day.” While he listened with interest, she proceeded to fill him in on the day’s events. It was her way of stalling, her way of avoiding hearing what he had to say until she could avoid it no longer.
Finally, she ran out of things to say. “I’m calling,” he said, “because I thought you’d want to know about the rumors I’ve been hearing.”
She clutched the phone more tightly. “What rumors?”
“Some private investigator’s been sniffing around, asking questions about Robin Spinney.”
Oh, shit. Annie squeezed her eyes closed against the sudden dizziness that overtook her.
“Annie? You all right?”
She took a deep breath. “I’m all right. I’d hoped…well, you know what I’d hoped.”
“That he wouldn’t come looking. Yeah, I know. But you knew he would. We expected this. It doesn’t mean a damn thing except that we read him right. He can’t find you. You did a fine job of covering your tracks.”
Such a fine job that even Bobby didn’t know where she was. All he had was a cell phone number and the nebulous knowledge that she’d bought an old motel in a small town somewhere in the Northeast. It was better that way, for both of them. “I hope you’re right,” she said.
“So tell me about the video store.”
“It’s nothing to write home about. I have a couple of part-timehigh school kids and one very pregnant full-time employee who looks like a flake but seems to be able to run the place with one hand tied behind her back. It’s hard to say how much revenue it’s bringing in. Mike Boudreau gave me some figures, but I suspect he may have inflated them. We’ll see.”
“What about the motel? You got any ideas yet about what you want to do with that?”
She toyed with the stem of her wineglass. “It’s in pretty rough shape. I haven’t had time yet to look at the guest rooms. But if it’s feasible, I’m considering converting it into apartments. No matter where you live, there’s always a need for housing. If I could convert the place into three or four apartments, it would give Sophie and me a regular income aside from whatever piddly amount the video rental brings in.”
“Not a bad idea.”
“And it would be a good way to settle into the community. Put down those roots you talked about.”
“Remember what I told you. Don’t act like you have anything to hide. People will see it if you do. Make nice with the neighbors, get to know your friendly checkout clerk at the local supermarket. You’re just an average, middle-class, thirty-something single mother starting out fresh in a new place. It’s ninety percent attitude. You believe you’re who you say you are, they’ll believe it, too.”
“I’m scared, Uncle Bobby. What if I can’t pull this off?”
“’Course you are.
For Sophie’s sake, she had to find a way out of this mess. She didn’t worry so much about herself. No matter what happened, she would never return to Mississippi. She’d made that decision the day she left. She had chosen to live in Serenity and she was putting down roots. No matter what the future brought, she had every intention of staying here.
But it was different for Sophie. A young girl her age needed a future that was wide open. It wasn’t fair to hobble her to a muddied past and a fictitious present. Certainly staying alive, staying ahead of Brogan, was their main priority. But for Sophie, it wasn’t enough. There had to be more. And there was only one way Annie could ensure her daughter’s futurehappiness. She had to bring Luke Brogan down. Maybe, somehow, Rachel Feldman could help.
Her cell phone, a gift from Uncle Bobby, rang. Annie hesitated for a moment before she answered it. There was only one person who had the number, and if he was calling her this late at night, it wasn’t with good news.
“Did I wake you?” Bobby asked.
“No. I’m just sitting here, trying to wind down. It’s been quite a day.” While he listened with interest, she proceeded to fill him in on the day’s events. It was her way of stalling, her way of avoiding hearing what he had to say until she could avoid it no longer.
Finally, she ran out of things to say. “I’m calling,” he said, “because I thought you’d want to know about the rumors I’ve been hearing.”
She clutched the phone more tightly. “What rumors?”
“Some private investigator’s been sniffing around, asking questions about Robin Spinney.”
Oh, shit. Annie squeezed her eyes closed against the sudden dizziness that overtook her.
“Annie? You all right?”
She took a deep breath. “I’m all right. I’d hoped…well, you know what I’d hoped.”
“That he wouldn’t come looking. Yeah, I know. But you knew he would. We expected this. It doesn’t mean a damn thing except that we read him right. He can’t find you. You did a fine job of covering your tracks.”
Such a fine job that even Bobby didn’t know where she was. All he had was a cell phone number and the nebulous knowledge that she’d bought an old motel in a small town somewhere in the Northeast. It was better that way, for both of them. “I hope you’re right,” she said.
“So tell me about the video store.”
“It’s nothing to write home about. I have a couple of part-timehigh school kids and one very pregnant full-time employee who looks like a flake but seems to be able to run the place with one hand tied behind her back. It’s hard to say how much revenue it’s bringing in. Mike Boudreau gave me some figures, but I suspect he may have inflated them. We’ll see.”
“What about the motel? You got any ideas yet about what you want to do with that?”
She toyed with the stem of her wineglass. “It’s in pretty rough shape. I haven’t had time yet to look at the guest rooms. But if it’s feasible, I’m considering converting it into apartments. No matter where you live, there’s always a need for housing. If I could convert the place into three or four apartments, it would give Sophie and me a regular income aside from whatever piddly amount the video rental brings in.”
“Not a bad idea.”
“And it would be a good way to settle into the community. Put down those roots you talked about.”
“Remember what I told you. Don’t act like you have anything to hide. People will see it if you do. Make nice with the neighbors, get to know your friendly checkout clerk at the local supermarket. You’re just an average, middle-class, thirty-something single mother starting out fresh in a new place. It’s ninety percent attitude. You believe you’re who you say you are, they’ll believe it, too.”
“I’m scared, Uncle Bobby. What if I can’t pull this off?”
“’Course you are.
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