Read Online The Edge of Normal by Carla Norton - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Carla Norton
Ads: Link
quickly. “I got his license plate number, too.”
Pierson’s face lights up. “Now you’re talking.” He balances a notepad on his knee, pulls a pen from his pocket and clicks it open. “Okay, shoot.”
Randy rocks back. “Not so fast. How do I know I’ll get a deal if I tell you?”
“I’m your lawyer. That’s my job.”
“But hold on just a minute here.” Randy says, trying to line things up in his mind. “How can I be sure?”
“You’ve got to trust me on this.”
“Trust you?” Randy’s expression sours. People who ask for trust always mean trouble. And once he tells what he knows, his hand is played. Meanwhile, he’s still a target and Duke is still a threat. He crosses his arms across his chest, suddenly clear on what to do. “That’s it. I ain’t saying another word until there’s a deal on the table.”
THIRTEEN
Jefferson City
Reeve carries a large hot chocolate over to a table far from the other customers. She sits facing the door, sips carefully, then fishes her cell phone out of her purse and taps in Dr. Lerner’s number.
He answers after two rings. “Reeve, I’m so glad you called. How are you?”
She skips the pleasantries and says abruptly, “I thought about what you said, and I’m ready to help.”
There’s a pause, then Dr. Lerner says, “Good. That will be very much appreciated, I’m sure. I’ll tell the Cavanaughs. Would you like their phone number so you can call them directly?”
“No, I’d like to see them. And I’d like to talk to Tilly. Can you come get me?”
“Oh, well I’m not sure when I can get back to San Francisco.”
“But I’m here in town.”
“What?”
“I’m here in Jefferson City.”
“You’re here?”
“That’s what I said.”
“How did you get here?”
“I drove. I borrowed Dad’s Jeep.”
“You drove ?”
“Yes. I drove.” Reeve had expected Dr. Lerner to be surprised, since he knows she has only driven a car perhaps a dozen times in her life, but now she’s getting annoyed. “I got gas. I parked. And I’m now downtown, sitting here at Starbucks, but I don’t know my way around and I don’t know where you are, so I’d like you to please come and get me.”
“I see. Well, I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
The truth is, she’s exhausted. She didn’t sleep well, and the drive from San Francisco was just one more nightmare, with fog and traffic and white knuckles all the way. She purposely did not tell Dr. Lerner she was coming so that she could back out at any time without having to make excuses. But as much as she wanted to, she wouldn’t let herself. Because years of therapy have given her enough self-awareness to see that she’s not exactly the poster child for mental health. And because she’s sick of having Daryl Wayne Flint’s claws in her imagination, sick of being stuck on the same worn path of blocked responses.
And because Tilly Cavanaugh deserves at least as much help as she had.
She’s finishing the last of her hot chocolate when Dr. Lerner comes in the door, trailed by a lanky young man in a uniform. She looks up and says, “Hi,” trying to keep the confusion from showing on her face.
“Reeve, this is Deputy Nick Hudson,” Dr. Lerner says. “He’s our liaison with the district attorney’s office and the Jefferson County Sheriff’s Department.”
“Which is a fancy way of saying that I’m the doctor’s official guide and gopher while he’s in town,” Hudson says, stepping forward to shake her hand.
Reeve studies the tall young man, wondering—as she often does when meeting someone new—whether he knows who she is and what happened to her.
“We were just heading to lunch,” Dr. Lerner says. “Care to join us?”
Several minutes later, at a nearby diner with a lumberjack theme, they consult the menu and make small talk until the food arrives on oversized plates, smelling delicious. Reeve tastes her soup and nibbles at half a sandwich. She is used to
Pierson’s face lights up. “Now you’re talking.” He balances a notepad on his knee, pulls a pen from his pocket and clicks it open. “Okay, shoot.”
Randy rocks back. “Not so fast. How do I know I’ll get a deal if I tell you?”
“I’m your lawyer. That’s my job.”
“But hold on just a minute here.” Randy says, trying to line things up in his mind. “How can I be sure?”
“You’ve got to trust me on this.”
“Trust you?” Randy’s expression sours. People who ask for trust always mean trouble. And once he tells what he knows, his hand is played. Meanwhile, he’s still a target and Duke is still a threat. He crosses his arms across his chest, suddenly clear on what to do. “That’s it. I ain’t saying another word until there’s a deal on the table.”
THIRTEEN
Jefferson City
Reeve carries a large hot chocolate over to a table far from the other customers. She sits facing the door, sips carefully, then fishes her cell phone out of her purse and taps in Dr. Lerner’s number.
He answers after two rings. “Reeve, I’m so glad you called. How are you?”
She skips the pleasantries and says abruptly, “I thought about what you said, and I’m ready to help.”
There’s a pause, then Dr. Lerner says, “Good. That will be very much appreciated, I’m sure. I’ll tell the Cavanaughs. Would you like their phone number so you can call them directly?”
“No, I’d like to see them. And I’d like to talk to Tilly. Can you come get me?”
“Oh, well I’m not sure when I can get back to San Francisco.”
“But I’m here in town.”
“What?”
“I’m here in Jefferson City.”
“You’re here?”
“That’s what I said.”
“How did you get here?”
“I drove. I borrowed Dad’s Jeep.”
“You drove ?”
“Yes. I drove.” Reeve had expected Dr. Lerner to be surprised, since he knows she has only driven a car perhaps a dozen times in her life, but now she’s getting annoyed. “I got gas. I parked. And I’m now downtown, sitting here at Starbucks, but I don’t know my way around and I don’t know where you are, so I’d like you to please come and get me.”
“I see. Well, I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
The truth is, she’s exhausted. She didn’t sleep well, and the drive from San Francisco was just one more nightmare, with fog and traffic and white knuckles all the way. She purposely did not tell Dr. Lerner she was coming so that she could back out at any time without having to make excuses. But as much as she wanted to, she wouldn’t let herself. Because years of therapy have given her enough self-awareness to see that she’s not exactly the poster child for mental health. And because she’s sick of having Daryl Wayne Flint’s claws in her imagination, sick of being stuck on the same worn path of blocked responses.
And because Tilly Cavanaugh deserves at least as much help as she had.
She’s finishing the last of her hot chocolate when Dr. Lerner comes in the door, trailed by a lanky young man in a uniform. She looks up and says, “Hi,” trying to keep the confusion from showing on her face.
“Reeve, this is Deputy Nick Hudson,” Dr. Lerner says. “He’s our liaison with the district attorney’s office and the Jefferson County Sheriff’s Department.”
“Which is a fancy way of saying that I’m the doctor’s official guide and gopher while he’s in town,” Hudson says, stepping forward to shake her hand.
Reeve studies the tall young man, wondering—as she often does when meeting someone new—whether he knows who she is and what happened to her.
“We were just heading to lunch,” Dr. Lerner says. “Care to join us?”
Several minutes later, at a nearby diner with a lumberjack theme, they consult the menu and make small talk until the food arrives on oversized plates, smelling delicious. Reeve tastes her soup and nibbles at half a sandwich. She is used to
Similar Books
