Read Online Never Too Late by RaeAnne Thayne - Free Book Online
Authors: RaeAnne Thayne
Tags: Suspense
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find any answers staring into the mirror of some convenience-store bathroom. If she didn’t hurry, they would be on the road forever.
She blew out a breath, did her best without a comb to straighten the wind-tangles from her hair, then walked out into the convenience store.
By the time she bought a couple bottles of water, some power bars and deli sandwiches that looked surprisingly fresh for later, she had nearly regained her equilibrium. At least she felt a little more centered, almost in control.
At the Jeep, Kate found Belle in her crate and Hunter leaning against the vehicle gazing up at the dark clouds, his arms folded across his chest. He straightened at her approach.
“Sorry I took so long,” she said, hating that breathless note in her voice. “I bought some provisions so we don’t have to stop for lunch.”
“Good idea.” He moved around the vehicle to open the passenger door for her, which reminded her of something else she meant to bring up.
“Would you like me to drive for a while?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Maybe later. We’ve barely started.”
She wanted to remind him not to overdo it, to pace himself, but she was afraid that would sound entirely too much like a nagging wife, so she held her tongue. Besides, she knew if she had just spent the last thirty months in prison, she wouldn’t want to give up one iota of control to another person, in driving or anything else.
With her small bundle of provisions, she climbed into the passenger seat. He closed the door then walked around to the driver’s side and a few moments later they were back on the road.
After they left the gas station, she tried a few times to make conversation, but gave up when his answers were short and choppy.
Fine, she thought. If the man wanted to ride three thousand miles as quiet as a post, she could entertain herself. She popped in a CD—a group she’d fallen in love with at the Snowbird Bluegrass Festival the summer before—kicked off her shoes, and pulled her book out again.
It was difficult to focus with Hunter sitting next to her but she called on the same powers of concentration that had helped her survive medical school and was soon lost in Wyatt’s prose.
She wasn’t sure how long she read, but she finally wrenched her attention away when her stomach growled again. If she wasn’t mistaken, that was at least the second time through the CD. She knew one corner of her brain had registered hearing that song already.
She reached to stop the CD player. “Sorry. I’m afraid Wyatt sucked me right in.”
He shifted his gaze briefly to her before returning his attention to the road stretching out ahead of them. “Yeah, your brother spins a good story, doesn’t he? I read a few of his books in prison.”
“Is that why you agreed to let him interview you?” Kate knew Wyatt was writing a book about the Ferrin murders. That was how he had met Taylor, the impetus behind the sequence of events that had led to Hunter’s sentence being voided by the state supreme court.
“I knew someone would write about the case. It was sensational enough that I knew it was only a matter of time. I was impressed by McKinnon’s writing and the way he treated the victims, with a dignity and respect that’s missing in a lot of other books of that genre. That’s why I agreed to cooperate with him instead of any of the other authors who contacted me.”
What must it have been like for him, she wondered, knowing he was innocent but being bombarded by members of the media who all thought him guilty as sin?
“You know, it was odd,” she said. “I don’t normally pick up true-crime books for my leisure reading—when I have time for leisure reading, which isn’t very often. But Wyatt’s books really appealed to me, right from the first. I read nearly his entire backlist before I ever knew…”
She tightened her lips as her voice trailed off. Why could she never seem to squeeze those words out? They tangled in
She blew out a breath, did her best without a comb to straighten the wind-tangles from her hair, then walked out into the convenience store.
By the time she bought a couple bottles of water, some power bars and deli sandwiches that looked surprisingly fresh for later, she had nearly regained her equilibrium. At least she felt a little more centered, almost in control.
At the Jeep, Kate found Belle in her crate and Hunter leaning against the vehicle gazing up at the dark clouds, his arms folded across his chest. He straightened at her approach.
“Sorry I took so long,” she said, hating that breathless note in her voice. “I bought some provisions so we don’t have to stop for lunch.”
“Good idea.” He moved around the vehicle to open the passenger door for her, which reminded her of something else she meant to bring up.
“Would you like me to drive for a while?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Maybe later. We’ve barely started.”
She wanted to remind him not to overdo it, to pace himself, but she was afraid that would sound entirely too much like a nagging wife, so she held her tongue. Besides, she knew if she had just spent the last thirty months in prison, she wouldn’t want to give up one iota of control to another person, in driving or anything else.
With her small bundle of provisions, she climbed into the passenger seat. He closed the door then walked around to the driver’s side and a few moments later they were back on the road.
After they left the gas station, she tried a few times to make conversation, but gave up when his answers were short and choppy.
Fine, she thought. If the man wanted to ride three thousand miles as quiet as a post, she could entertain herself. She popped in a CD—a group she’d fallen in love with at the Snowbird Bluegrass Festival the summer before—kicked off her shoes, and pulled her book out again.
It was difficult to focus with Hunter sitting next to her but she called on the same powers of concentration that had helped her survive medical school and was soon lost in Wyatt’s prose.
She wasn’t sure how long she read, but she finally wrenched her attention away when her stomach growled again. If she wasn’t mistaken, that was at least the second time through the CD. She knew one corner of her brain had registered hearing that song already.
She reached to stop the CD player. “Sorry. I’m afraid Wyatt sucked me right in.”
He shifted his gaze briefly to her before returning his attention to the road stretching out ahead of them. “Yeah, your brother spins a good story, doesn’t he? I read a few of his books in prison.”
“Is that why you agreed to let him interview you?” Kate knew Wyatt was writing a book about the Ferrin murders. That was how he had met Taylor, the impetus behind the sequence of events that had led to Hunter’s sentence being voided by the state supreme court.
“I knew someone would write about the case. It was sensational enough that I knew it was only a matter of time. I was impressed by McKinnon’s writing and the way he treated the victims, with a dignity and respect that’s missing in a lot of other books of that genre. That’s why I agreed to cooperate with him instead of any of the other authors who contacted me.”
What must it have been like for him, she wondered, knowing he was innocent but being bombarded by members of the media who all thought him guilty as sin?
“You know, it was odd,” she said. “I don’t normally pick up true-crime books for my leisure reading—when I have time for leisure reading, which isn’t very often. But Wyatt’s books really appealed to me, right from the first. I read nearly his entire backlist before I ever knew…”
She tightened her lips as her voice trailed off. Why could she never seem to squeeze those words out? They tangled in
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