Best Kept Secrets(98)



daughter, immediately dropped to her knees in front of him,

hastily opened his fly, and took him into her hungry mouth.



"Miz Gaither, ma'am? Miz Gaither? You in there?"

Alex had been dozing. Roused by the knocking on her

door, which had been repaired, she woke up to find that she

was sprawled on top of the bedspread, stiff and cold. Her

eyes were swollen from crying.

"What do you want?" Her voice amounted to little more

than a croak. "Go away."

"Is your phone off the hook, ma'am?"

"Damn." She swung her feet to the side of the bed. Her

clothes were wrinkled and bunched around her. She shook them

back into place as she walked to the window and pulled aside

the drape. The motel's night clerk was standing at the door.



"I took the phone off the hook so I wouldn't be disturbed,''

she told him through the window.

He peered in at her, obviously glad to see that she was still

alive. "Sorry to bother you then, ma'am, but there's this guy

trying to get in touch with you. He's been arguin' with me,

saying you couldn't be talking on your phone for this long.''

"What guy?"

"Happer or Harris or something,'' he mumbled, consulting

the slip of paper he'd brought with him. He held it closer to

the light over her door. "Can't quite make out my writin'

here . . . spellin' ain't so good."

"Harper? Greg Harper?"

"I reckon that's it, yes, ma'am."

Alex dropped the drape back into place, slid the chain

lock free, and opened the door. "Did he say what he

wanted?"

"Sure did. Said for me to tell you that you was to be in

Austin tomorrow morning for a ten o'clock meeting."

Alex stared at the clerk, stupefied. "You must have gotten

the message wrong. Ten o'clock tomorrow morning?"

"That's what he said, and I didn't git it wrong, 'cause I

wrote it down right here." He showed her the slip of paper

with the message scrawled in pencil. "The man's been callin'

you all afternoon and was p.o.'d 'cause he couldn't git you.

Finally, he said he was goin' out for the evenin' and for me

to come to your room and hand-deliver the message, which

I done. So, good night."

"Wait!"

"Look, I'm s'posed to be tending the switchboard."

"Did he say what kind of meeting this was, why it was

so urgent?"

"Naw, only that you're s'posed to be there."

He stood mere expectantly. With mumbled thanks, she

pressed a dollar bill into his hand, and he loped off in the

direction of the lobby.

Thoughtfully, Alex closed her door and reread the message.

It made no sense. It wasn't like Greg to be so cryptic. It



wasn't like him to call meetings that were virtually impossible

to make, either.

When the bafflement began to wear off, the enormity of

her dilemma set in. She had to be in Austin by ten o'clock

in the morning. It was already dark. If she left now, she

would have to drive most of the night, and would arrive in

Austin in the wee hours.

If she waited until morning, she would have to leave dreadfully

early and then be on a deadline to get there in time.

Either choice was wretched, and she wasn't mentally or emotionally

fit to make a decision.

Then, an idea occurred to her. Before she could talk herself

out of it, she placed a telephone call.

"Sheriffs department."

"Sheriff Lambert, please."

"He's not here. Can anybody else help?"

"No, thank you. I need to speak with him personally."

"Excuse me, ma'am, but is this Ms. Gaither?"

"Yes, it is."

"Where are you?"

"In my motel room. Why?"

"That's where Reede's headed. He should be there by

now." Then he paused and asked, "Say, are you all right?"

"Of course I'm all right. I think I hear the sheriff pulling

up now. Thank you." Alex hung up and moved to the window

in time to see Reede get out of his truck and rush toward her

door.

She flung it open. He drew up abruptly, almost losing his

balance. "Please don't kick it in again."

"Don't be cute with me," he said, glowering darkly.

"What the hell is going on?"

"Nothing."

"Like hell." He gestured toward the bedside telephone.

Its innocence seemed to provoke him further. He pointed

toward it accusingly. "I've been calling for hours, and all I

got is a busy signal."

"I took it off the hook. What was so important?"



"I heard what happened this afternoon between you and

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