Best Kept Secrets(99)

Sarah Jo."

Her shoulders dropped dejectedly and she released a long breath. She had almost forgotten about that in her perplexity

over Greg's summons.

She had never checked the date on her parents' marriage

license. It wouldn't necessarily be conclusive, anyway. As

an attorney, she knew that dates, even on so-called legal

documents, could be falsified. The way everyone had reacted

to Sarah Jo's revelation, she knew it was true. She had been

conceived illegitimately.

"You should have been there, Sheriff. I made a spectacle

of myself. You would have been thoroughly entertained."

Her flippancy didn't improve his mood. "Why'd you take

your phone off the hook?"

"To get some rest. What did you think, that I took an

overdose of sleeping pills or gave my wrists a close shave?"

He gave the sarcastic question credence. "Maybe."

"Then, you don't know me very well," she told him angrily.

"I don't give in that easily. And I'm not ashamed that

my parents had to get married."

"I didn't say you were or that you should be."

"That was their mistake. It has nothing to do with me as

a person, okay?"

"Okay."

"So stop thinking . . . Oh, hell, I don't care what you're

thinking," she said, rubbing her temples. She was more annoyed

with herself than with him. Lashing out was only an indication

of how upset she really was.' 'I need your help, Reede.''

"What kind of help?"

"Can you fly me to Austin?"

The request took him by surprise. He pulled himself upright

from where he had complacently slouched against the framework

of the recently repaired doorway.

"Fly you to Austin? Why?"

"Business with Greg Harper. I need to be there at ten

o'clock in the morning for a meeting."



Twenty-seven





They were in the air less than an hour later, on a southeasterly

course toward the state capital. Alex had used a quarter of

that hour to get herself looking human again. She had washed

her face in cold water, applied fresh makeup, brushed her

hair, and changed into a pair of wool slacks and a sweater.

Whatever she wore to the meeting in the morning could come

out of her closet at home.



On the way to Purcell's municipal airfield, Reede stopped

at a hamburger joint and picked up the order he'd phoned

ahead for. There was a single-engine Cessna waiting for them

on the tarmac when they arrived at the landing strip. The

sheriff knew how to pull strings.



Purcell was no more than a patch of glittering light on the

black carpet beneath them before she thought to ask, "Does

this plane belong to you?"



"Minton Enterprises. Angus gave me permission to use it.

Pass me one of those cheeseburgers."



She devoured almost half of hers--Sarah Jo's cucumber

sandwich hadn't gone far--before she came up for air.

"When did you learn to fly?"



Reede munched a french fry. "I was about eight."



"Eight!"



"I had salvaged an old beat-up bike from a junkyard and

repaired it well enough to get around on. I pedaled out to the

airfield every chance I got."





"It must be three miles from town," she exclaimed.

"I didn't care. I'd have gone twice that far. The planes

intrigued me. The old guy who ran the place was as testy as

a rattlesnake, a real loner, but he kept a strawberry soda pop

waiting for me in his ancient icebox. I guess I pestered the

snot out of him, but he didn't seem to mind all my questions.

One day, he looked over at me and said, 'I gotta check out

this plane. Wanna go along for the ride?' I nearly peed my

pants."

Reede probably didn't realize that he was smiling over the

happy memory. Alex remained silent so he wouldn't be reminded

that she was there. She enjoyed his smile. It attractively

emphasized the fine lines at the outer corners of his

eyes and those around his mouth.

"God, it was great," he said, as though he could feel the

surge of pleasure again. "I hadn't discovered sex yet, so

flying was the best thing that had happened to me. From up

there, everything looked so peaceful, so clean."

An escape from the awful realities of his childhood, Alex

thought compassionately. She wanted to touch him, but didn't

dare. She was about to venture down a rocky, hazardous

path. One wrong word or turn of phrase would spell doom,

so she felt her way carefully.

Quietly, she asked, "Reede, why didn't you tell me that

my mother was pregnant when she came back from El

Paso?"