Aurora 06 - A Fool And His Honey by Charlaine Harris Page A

Craig?” he asked uncertainly, working his way out from behind the couch. He proved to be not much over five-eight, and he was wearing ancient blue jeans and a none-too-clean flannel shirt hanging open over a T-shirt. A golden stubble made his face look dirty. But he didn’t look threatening. He had an aura of amiable stupidity that I came to learn was, to some extent, quite accurate.
    Martin and I exchanged glances.
    “Did you come here with Craig?” Martin asked, as if the answer were not important.
    “Sure, didn’t he tell you?”
    “Was Regina expecting you?” I asked next.
    “Well, no. She didn’t expect Craig to get out early, but the jail got real crowded, and Craig really toes the line when he’s in, so they released him early.”
    There was so much in this sentence to absorb that we just stood and stared. Visibly unnerved, the stranger tried to fill the silence with chatter. “See, after we stopped for some beer at that liquor store on the main drag, we had to help this lady who was having trouble with her car. And then we got here, but all of a sudden I was feeling really really tired. I never felt anything like that. So we came over here to this house, and Regina was in the kitchen with the baby, and she and Craig started fighting right away, you know, and I could see this couch across the hall while I was standing there listening to them, and I was so sleepy I just came in here and lay down.
    That’s the last I remember, except I had a dream about hearing someone scream, and I musta hid.”
    We exchanged glances again.
    “Ain’t you ever going to say nothing? You are Regina’s aunt and uncle, right? Though I got to say, lady, you don’t look old enough to be anyone’s aunt.” He grinned at me, or tried to, but by now it was so obvious something was wrong that his grin was only a shadow of what it could be.

    Martin scowled. I am less than thirteen years younger than he, but I look even younger than that. The same genes that are keeping my mother’s skin smooth at fifty-seven are being equally kind to me, and I’ll never be taller than my present inadequate height.
    Hayden finished the bottle. I put him up to my shoulder to burp and began patting, trying to think of what to say next.
    “Martin is Regina’s uncle and I’m Martin’s wife Aurora,” I said cautiously. “Last night some things happened here.”
    “Don’t tell me Craig hit Regina or nothing like that.”
    “Could you tell us who you are?” Martin asked, trying to sound very calm.
    “Sure, man. I’m Rory Brown, Craig’s buddy. We’ve been best friends forever.”
    “Then I have bad news for you . . . Rory.”
    “Craig’s back in jail?”
    I had to sit down. This was going to be worse than I thought.
    “No,” Martin said. “He’s dead.”

Chapter Tour
    I’m no psychic, but Rory Brown seemed genuinely stunned by this news. He sank back down to the couch, his face contorted with horror and disbelief. “But he was alive just a few hours ago!” Rory protested, as if it took a long time to die.
    “I’m sorry,” I said. “He was killed last night. We found him lying on the steps to the apartment.”
    “Where’s Regina?” Rory’s voice was hoarse with, I swear, unshed tears.
    “She’s nowhere to be found,” my husband told him. Martin was in his thinking posture, arms crossed over his chest, fingers tapping. As he reached a decision, Martin moved toward the telephone.
    “You calling the police?” Rory slid onto his knees. “Man, please don’t! I’m violating my parole. They’ll send me back to jail for sure. I’m not even supposed to see Craig, much less leave the state with him!”
    “Parole.” Martin said it thoughtfully, as if parole were a common condition among his acquaintances. “You were in jail with Craig?”
    “Uh, well, yeah. You know. We, uh, we wrote a few bad checks.”
    So Rory wasn’t any desperate felon. I hadn’t known how tense I was until I relaxed.
    “Whose name did you