Kiss by Ted Dekker Page B

Patrice don’t want me anywhere near them.”
    “The place is big enough for everyone to avoid each other. Wayne can help.” Wayne nodded. “I can spare the man a vacation, after all. And I didn’t have to twist his arm.”
    Shauna blushed.
    “Good then.” He dropped a paternal kiss on her forehead. “We want what’s best for you.”
    “Uncle Trent, I’m sorry if I did anything that embarrassed you at the party that night.”
    “It’s entirely forgettable.”
    She smiled at that. “I guess so.”
    She and Wayne parted ways with Trent in the main office. Wayne took a deep breath and turned to look at her.
    “How are you holding up?”
    “Better, now that you’re with me again.”
    Wayne raised his eyebrows and tilted his head slightly. “Missed me already?”
    She dropped her gaze, confused by her own confession. She felt at ease with him, as she should with an old friend, and yet she still hardly knew him. Maybe her subconscious was hard at work.
    “Is there a back door?” she asked.
    “Already arranged,” he said. He helped her into the coat. “You’ll need this to keep the rain off.”
    She shoved her hands into the pockets and stayed near the wall, head down, as he took her back toward the middle of the courthouse and then down a marble hallway. She rubbed her fingers against the lining to warm them.
    Three sets of stairs took them down to a rear door and out onto a narrow concrete slab between two tall buildings. Last night’s drizzle had turned into a light rain and came straight down.
    “This way,” Wayne said, taking her hand. They started toward the parking lot at the end of the breezeway. Between them and the lot, a blond man in a khaki raincoat leaned against the brick wall, juggling three packs of cigarettes.
    Wayne tugged at her to hurry by, but the man moved out in front of Shauna, stepping on her foot and letting the cigarette packs fall to the pavement. She stumbled. The stranger steadied her at the waist.
    “Well, I’m no dancer, Ms. McAllister.” Shauna looked to Wayne, startled to hear him speak her name. “Sorry about my poor timing.”
    Wayne pulled her to his side.
    “Ms. McAllister, I’d like to ask you a few questions about—”
    “Ms. McAllister has no comment,” Wayne said, guiding Shauna around the man.
    “I won’t take any of your time,” he insisted, blocking Wayne’s route. He was taller than Wayne by at least five inches and broader by the same.
    “Step aside, please.”
    “Off the record.”
    “No.”
    “It’s about the accident. About the early reports.”
    “Look, man. Why don’t you tell me who you’re working for so I can call your boss and file a complaint.”
    The man picked at one of the cellophane wrappers and looked at Shauna.
    “I’d like to know about the other person in your car.”
    What car?
    He seemed to read her mind. “The night of the accident.”
    Rudy?
    Wayne steered Shauna back toward the door they’d exited. “Shauna, don’t say anything.”
    “About Rudy?” she whispered.
    “An eyewitness puts a second passenger in the car with you,” the man called out.
    A second? Rudy was the only one.
    Wayne hurried her back to the courthouse door. The cigarette juggler fol-lowed, unconcerned. Wayne yanked on the handle. Locked. There was no other way out except through this man. Shauna wiped rain out of her eyebrows. Her hair was getting soaked.
    “What’s your name?” Wayne asked.
    “Smith.” He extended a hand. Wayne didn’t take it.
    “And you work for?”
    “I’m freelance.”
    Wayne scoffed. “How did you know—?”
    “I’m a good freelancer.”
    “Well, Smith, I was an eyewitness, too, and I didn’t see anyone else—”
    “Took you a while to come on scene, as I understand it.”
    “—nor did the truck driver, who was there from the beginning. And if you had done your homework, you would have seen that the accident reports say the same thing. So I’m very sorry to inform you, you’ve probably paid