Read Online Night Stars and Mourning Doves by Margo Hoornstra - Free Book Online Page B

sized pieces he then tossed over by the pine tree.
    “You keep watching. I’ll be right back.”
    The boy didn’t have to be told twice. “Okay. But where are you going?”
    “To make a phone call, Jay. To make a phone call.”

Chapter Eight
    Elyse was mildly surprised and tremendously pleased when Eric called to ask her for a date.
    The dinner he suggested at the small Italian restaurant turned out to have the best lasagna she’d ever tasted, a smooth and tangy Chianti, and a sweetly delicate tiramisu to die for. All served and enjoyed while they shared a quiet booth lit by the romantic glow of a single slow burning candle.
    What was supposed to be a movie after—her choice, Eric insisted—became three hours of talking about themselves and, more importantly, learning about each other. After a while, she found herself revealing events from her past she’d never shared with anyone, ever.
    “The divorce from Vince was beyond messy. Getting through it with our trust fund intact was no easy feat. Being Angela’s guardian at the time, keeping my eye on how I needed to preserve my little sister’s future made all the difference.”
    “Sorry you had to go through that.”
    “Don’t be. His loss. Certainly not mine.”
    He couldn’t let it go at that. “It’s still gotta hurt.”
    “Some wounds are less visible than others,” she conceded.
    “But cut just as deeply. And you took back your maiden name after the divorce. That had to go a ways toward the healing.”
    “I never gave it up. Aside from that, bottom line, the jerk is a never more in my life. He knows now that he can’t get his hands on our money. He’s quit trying.”
    “Why do I get the feeling the high powered lawyer I’ve heard so much about had something to do with his giving up?”
    “That and a nasty confrontation I’d rather not talk about.”
    “Fair enough.” He refilled their wine glasses and lifted his in a toast. “To the demise of Vince in your life.”
    “Here, here.” One sip and she set her glass aside.
    He did the same. “I need to remember I’m the driver tonight. There are huge penalties for drunk driving.”
    “A couple glasses of wine can’t possibly constitute being drunk.”
    “You’d be surprised. Even the slightest impairment—alcohol related or not—has the potential to cause an accident.”
    “You sound as if you speak from experience.”
    “Personal experience. You could say that.”
    “Have you ever been arrested for—”
    “Drunk driving. No. I work for the other side.”
    “I don’t understand. You’re not a police officer.”
    He shook his head. “I used to be. It was the one element in our life that my late wife didn’t particularly care for. Jan used to say my real job was to come home safe to her and Jay after every shift.” He lifted his head on a sigh. “A lot of family members say that. Especially wives.”
    “I don’t doubt it. How awful is that, having to worry about losing a loved one just for doing their job?”
    “She didn’t understand my need to be a cop.”
    “It’s a need you have, not a profession?”
    “Taking care of people, helping someone in trouble isn’t a nine-to-five proposition. It’s the kind of thing I’ve done all my life.”
    “Right wrongs?”
    “I’d like to think so.” He looked directly at her, no very nearly through her, and she caught a breath. “Make sure—or try to help make sure people who deserve it have a better life.”
    “What is it you do now?” Her voice sounded small and insignificant compared to his and the things he’d been saying. She held another breath after she asked, afraid the answer would be international spy or government agent. Some job involving even worse danger or risk than police work.
    “Formally, I’m an accident reconstruction specialist.”
    “Hmmmm.” That didn’t sound like risk.
    Her exhale was so long and loud he shot her a hasty look. “You okay?”
    She gave him a weak smile. “I’m