The Sentry

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Authors: Robert Crais
Tags: Fiction, Mystery
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voice, trying to sound like Marlon Brando.
    “You made him an offer he couldn’t refuse?”
    Pike wasn’t sure what to say, so he drifted past her to peer out the new window. The street appeared normal.
    “You got your uncle to go home?”
    “He’s not going to stay in bed. He gets dizzy when he stands, but he won’t listen. That’s just how he is.”
    Pike glanced at the tables, waiting to return to their places.
    “Help with the tables?”
    “That’s okay. I’ve got it.”
    Pike nodded. He had done what he could, let her know she wouldn’t have any more trouble, and now there was nothing to do except see if Azzara was good at his word. They were finished, but, like the day before, Pike didn’t want to leave.
    “You did a good job.”
    “We won’t win any beauty prizes.”
    Pike drifted past her to the counter, and saw that his phone number was tacked to the order board.
    “Okay. You need anything, call.”
    She said, “Ring.”
    He turned back, and saw her smiling.
    “That was me calling.”
    She dropped the towel into the bucket, and appraised herself.
    “I’m wet, hungry, and I smell like turpentine. I want a beer. How about we go have a beer? There’s a great little place right over here, the Sidewalk Cafe. How about it? My treat.”
    Pike said, “Okay.”
    The Sidewalk Cafe was everything Wilson’s tiny takeout shop wasn’t, with a large bar, indoor and outdoor seating, and a spectacular location on Ocean Front Walk. The outside area was already crowded with regulars come to enjoy the sunset, but the waitress recognized Dru and smiled them to a table. Joggers, skaters, tourists, and beach people flowed past on the sidewalk between the café and a row of vendors and performers. A manicured grass park, swaying palms, and a deep expanse of sand lay beyond. Directly across from their table, two street performers painted silver pretended to be mechanical men, locking and popping in unison. An open briefcase at their feet held a cardboard sign: CONTRIBUTIONS WELCOME.
    Dru knew what she wanted and waved off the menu.
    “I’ll have a hamburger and a Blue Moon. They have the greatest hamburgers here, really thick and juicy. You want a hamburger?”
    “Don’t eat meat.”
    The waitress flashed a sparkling grin.
    “Me, neither. The veggie nachos are killer, and I love the Corita salad.”
    “Beer’s fine. Corona.”
    As the waitress left, Dru slumped back in her chair and grinned.
    “Dude. You totally look like a carnivore.”
    Pike checked the vendors and the people strolling past. Checked the beach and the people beyond the palms. Habit. He checked Dru Rayne. Round face, one front tooth overlapping the other, a scar on the bridge of her nose that matched the lines beginning to cut the corners of her mouth. Not a kid, but still in her early thirties. Ten feet away, bikini-clad skater chicks, hard-bodied swimsuit models, and beach bunnies out for the sun flowed past, but Dru Rayne held him like a magnet.
    She touched his arm.
    “Thanks. For helping Wilson, and the rest. Really, thank you.”
    Pike nodded. When he offered no conversation, she filled in the gap.
    “I’m curious—what is it you do? For a living, I mean?”
    “Businessman.”
    Dru burst out laughing, then held up a hand, apologizing as she laughed, and covered her mouth with her free hand.
    “I’m sorry. Laughing is bad. I shouldn’t be laughing.”
    Pike liked her laughing. It was strong and confident, as if she was completely at ease. Pike liked her familiarity. He had spent most of his life seeking and maintaining control.
    Her eyes grew shy, as if something had been on her mind and now she was going to mention it.
    “May I ask you something?”
    Pike nodded, watching her.
    “The detectives who came to the hospital, remember how Wilson said they asked about you?”
    Pike stared past her, now watching the water because he knew where this would go.
    She touched his arm again, and Pike was pulled back to her.
    “They told us

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