yours, she added to herself.
He stretched his arms high over his head while he yawned broadly, then raked his fingers through the gilded brown hair. "You'd better get some sleep. Good night," he said as he switched off the light.
"Good night."
She shifted down between the blankets until she was lying on her back, staring into the darkness. She could hear Lance making himself as comfortable as he could in the chair. There was a rustle of covers, a deep sigh, then silence fell over the room.
After long, silent minutes, knowing instinctively that he wasn't asleep, Erin whispered, "Mr. Barrett?"
"Hm?"
She plucked at the blanket with nervous fingers. The darkness lent an intimacy to the situation. Like lovers after . . . "What will happen to my brother when you find him?"
Sounds of him changing his position in the chair reached her out of the darkness. His voice was low, hesitant . . . sad? when he answered, "I don't know. That's beyond my realm of expertise. He embezzled a tremendous amount of money from a national bank. The theft alone would be enough to keep him incarcerated for years.
The federal government gets sticky about someone taking its money."
"He'll have to go to prison," she said without emotion.
It was a mere statement of fact. She hadn't thought of it before now.
"Yes. It may help that his father-in-law is president of the bank. Winslow didn't call in the local police, though we're using some of their men who are trained to find needles in haystacks, so to speak. Maybe if Lyman hasn't spent the money and can return it, he'll only be slapped with a stiff fine and a long probation."
"You don't really think that, do you?"
His voice sounded tired and resigned when he said,
"No." Moments later he said, "In all my years of doing this kind of work, I've never understood the criminal mind."
"My brother is not a criminal!" she cried.
"He committed a crime. By definition that makes him a criminal," he reasoned.
She drew a deep sigh of remorse. "Of course you're right. I'm sorry. What were you saying?"
"Well, it looks to me like he had so much going for him.
Why did he do it? Why did he risk everything? Leave Mrs.
Lyman? It was a dumb, stupid thing to do. He must know we'll catch him."
Erin was surprised to hear the anger in his voice. It was almost as if he wished he didn't have to find Ken. "Melanie will be so terribly hurt by all of this. I don't think she realizes the gravity of the situation."
"She doesn't. She's a sweet kid. We could have set up our base of operation anywhere, you know. We're here partly to protect her. We don't know if Lyman was working alone or if he was involved in something bigger. She may become the innocent victim of someone seeking revenge. Hell, I don't know." His exasperation with the case was all too clear, and Erin felt a pang of contrition for having added to his headaches.
Softly she asked, "What about me? Do you think I'm an unlikely-looking assassin that came in with a sob story to win the affection of a vulnerable girl and then murder her?"
There was a significant pause before he admitted, "It crossed my mind."
"I see," she whispered.
Her head was whirling with all he had told her, but it seemed too light to remain on the pillow. She tossed restlessly on the narrow space of the sofa, trying to find a comfortable position that would allow her to drift into a much needed sleep. Finally, annoyed with her insomnia, she lay on her back and flung her arms over her head.
Was it the soft swishing of clothes or the popping of his knees as he crouched down beside the sofa that first alerted her that he was no longer in the chair? She didn't know.
All she knew was that he was suddenly so close that she could feel the heat emanating from his body. She lay utterly still, not even daring to blink.
"I don't know who you are, or what you are, but you're not an assassin." His voice was husky with emotion, but she barely had time to analyze it before she felt the brush of his
He stretched his arms high over his head while he yawned broadly, then raked his fingers through the gilded brown hair. "You'd better get some sleep. Good night," he said as he switched off the light.
"Good night."
She shifted down between the blankets until she was lying on her back, staring into the darkness. She could hear Lance making himself as comfortable as he could in the chair. There was a rustle of covers, a deep sigh, then silence fell over the room.
After long, silent minutes, knowing instinctively that he wasn't asleep, Erin whispered, "Mr. Barrett?"
"Hm?"
She plucked at the blanket with nervous fingers. The darkness lent an intimacy to the situation. Like lovers after . . . "What will happen to my brother when you find him?"
Sounds of him changing his position in the chair reached her out of the darkness. His voice was low, hesitant . . . sad? when he answered, "I don't know. That's beyond my realm of expertise. He embezzled a tremendous amount of money from a national bank. The theft alone would be enough to keep him incarcerated for years.
The federal government gets sticky about someone taking its money."
"He'll have to go to prison," she said without emotion.
It was a mere statement of fact. She hadn't thought of it before now.
"Yes. It may help that his father-in-law is president of the bank. Winslow didn't call in the local police, though we're using some of their men who are trained to find needles in haystacks, so to speak. Maybe if Lyman hasn't spent the money and can return it, he'll only be slapped with a stiff fine and a long probation."
"You don't really think that, do you?"
His voice sounded tired and resigned when he said,
"No." Moments later he said, "In all my years of doing this kind of work, I've never understood the criminal mind."
"My brother is not a criminal!" she cried.
"He committed a crime. By definition that makes him a criminal," he reasoned.
She drew a deep sigh of remorse. "Of course you're right. I'm sorry. What were you saying?"
"Well, it looks to me like he had so much going for him.
Why did he do it? Why did he risk everything? Leave Mrs.
Lyman? It was a dumb, stupid thing to do. He must know we'll catch him."
Erin was surprised to hear the anger in his voice. It was almost as if he wished he didn't have to find Ken. "Melanie will be so terribly hurt by all of this. I don't think she realizes the gravity of the situation."
"She doesn't. She's a sweet kid. We could have set up our base of operation anywhere, you know. We're here partly to protect her. We don't know if Lyman was working alone or if he was involved in something bigger. She may become the innocent victim of someone seeking revenge. Hell, I don't know." His exasperation with the case was all too clear, and Erin felt a pang of contrition for having added to his headaches.
Softly she asked, "What about me? Do you think I'm an unlikely-looking assassin that came in with a sob story to win the affection of a vulnerable girl and then murder her?"
There was a significant pause before he admitted, "It crossed my mind."
"I see," she whispered.
Her head was whirling with all he had told her, but it seemed too light to remain on the pillow. She tossed restlessly on the narrow space of the sofa, trying to find a comfortable position that would allow her to drift into a much needed sleep. Finally, annoyed with her insomnia, she lay on her back and flung her arms over her head.
Was it the soft swishing of clothes or the popping of his knees as he crouched down beside the sofa that first alerted her that he was no longer in the chair? She didn't know.
All she knew was that he was suddenly so close that she could feel the heat emanating from his body. She lay utterly still, not even daring to blink.
"I don't know who you are, or what you are, but you're not an assassin." His voice was husky with emotion, but she barely had time to analyze it before she felt the brush of his