Read Online Doubleback: A Novel by Libby Fischer Hellmann - Free Book Online Page B

Gleason, whose Honeymooner reruns Georgia had discovered on cable. He snapped the white towel that usually hung over his shoulder. “So, what’ll it be, tonight? The firecracker special?”
    Pete was nursing a draft.
    “Diet coke with lemon,” Georgia said.
    “How’s by you, Davis?” Owen said as he poured her drink. Protocol demanded that everyone go by last names at Mickey’s. Except Owen. Georgia decided to buck the system.
    “Just peachy, Dougherty,” She slid onto the stool next to Pete.
    Owen frowned at her breach of etiquette but set down her soda. Pete touched her arm by way of greeting. He had sandy hair, a small nose, and behind a pair of glasses, lively blue eyes. He wasn’t what you’d call handsome—his eyes were too widely spaced, his chin too prominent, and his hair too unruly—but he was interesting.
    And nerdy. Pete dressed like he lived in Pleasantville during the fifties. Once Georgia had teased that he must have been deprived of penny loafers and a button-down shirt as a kid, because he always wore them now. When he didn’t reply, she realized she was closer to the truth than she’d known. She’d seen him in shorts and a tank top, though, and knew that underneath his Ivy League getup was a great body: broad shoulders, muscled arms, flat stomach. She sighed. If she’d been a different kind of woman...
    “You go to the fireworks?”
    “Nope. Just got home. I was doing laundry.”
    “Where were you?”
    “Camping in northern Wisconsin with my brother.”
    “You have a brother? I thought there was only you and your sister.”
    “Steve’s my half brother. Lives in Minnesota. He called a few weeks ago. Wanted to spend some time together. We went fly fishing on the Flambeau river.”
    “Tents and campfires and all that?”
    He nodded. “A little bit of paradise on earth.”
    Georgia shook her head. “My idea of paradise is a hotel with room service, a minibar, and movies on demand.”
    “You don’t know what you’re missing: two stinky men drinking beer for breakfast and lunch, and fishing for our dinner.”
    Gemma, Mickey’s only waitress, came over with menus. “You want over there?” She motioned toward an empty booth.
    “We can eat at the bar,” Georgia said. “Save you the trouble of bussing.”
    “Appreciate it.” Gemma had three kids and no husband and was putting herself through a CPA program. She’d been moonlighting at Mickey’s for years. Georgia ordered her usual: hamburger, rare, with fries. Pete ordered fried fish.
    “You didn’t have enough last week?”
    A flush started up Pete’s cheeks. “Well, turned out we didn’t quite have the right lures. We ate a lot of pizza.”
    Georgia laughed. “So much for living off the land. Or water.”
    “Hey, we had a great time. Lots of brotherly bonding.” He took a pull on his draft. “So, what have you been up to?” He was always careful not to get too personal. Giving her space.
    She told him about Molly and Christine Messenger. “Then, right after the girl was released, which itself was strange, the mother’s boss died in a car accident. The mother is freaked out. Thinks it’s related to her daughter.”
    “Do you?”
    “Hard to say. I’m waiting for a tox screen and the autopsy results.”
    Pete took another sip of beer. “You do have a thing for kids... especially girls.”
    Funny. Foreman had said the same thing. They probably had a point. First Rachel, Foreman’s daughter, then Lauren Walcher, now Molly Messenger. Georgia was drawn to the vulnerable ones, the ones who couldn’t defend themselves. But it wasn’t just girls. She thought back to Cam Jordan, a mentally challenged kid who’d been railroaded last year for a murder he didn’t commit. He’d needed her to fight for him.
    It was probably all wrapped up in being abandoned by her own mother. She’d walked out when Georgia was twelve, leaving Georgia with her father, a cop who liked the bottle as well as the strap. Georgia had more or