The Hollow by Nora Roberts Page B

managed a small laugh, wet her throat again. “I told myself I could get to the surface, even with the weight, I’m a strong swimmer. But I couldn’t. Worse, I couldn’t even try. It wasn’t just the stones weighing me down.”
    â€œIt was Hester.”
    â€œYes. I saw you in the water, diving down, and then . . .” She closed her eyes, pressed her lips hard together.
    â€œIt’s okay.” Reaching over, he closed a hand over hers. “We’re okay.”
    â€œFox, I don’t know if it was her, or if I . . . I don’t know. We grabbed on to you.”
    â€œYou kissed me.”
    â€œWe killed you.”
    â€œWe all came to a bad end, but it didn’t actually happen. However vivid and sensory, it wasn’t real. It was a hard way for you to get inside Hester Deale’s head, but now we know more about her.”
    â€œWhy were you there?”
    â€œBest guess? We’ve got this link, you and me. I’ve shared dreams with Cal and Gage before. Same thing. But there was more this time, another level of connection. In the dream, I saw you, Layla. Not Hester. I heard you. That’s interesting. Something to think about.”
    â€œWhen you juggle.”
    He grinned. “Couldn’t hurt. We need to—”
    His intercom buzzed. “Mr. Edwards is here.”
    Fox rose, flipped the switch on his desk. “Okay, give me a minute.” He turned back to Layla as she rose. “We need some more time on this. My last appointment today’s at—”
    â€œFour. Mrs. Halliday.”
    â€œRight. You’re good. If you’re not booked, we could go upstairs after my last appointment, do some work on this.”
    It was time, Layla thought, to suit up. “All right.”
    He walked to the doors with her, slid them open. “We could have some dinner,” he began.
    â€œI don’t want you to go to any trouble.”
    â€œI have every delivery place within a five-mile radius on speed dial.”
    She smiled a little. “Good plan.”
    He walked out with her to where two hundred and twenty pounds of Edwards filled a chair in reception. His belly, covered in a white T-shirt, pillowed over the waistband of his jeans. His scrubby gray hair was topped by a John Deere gimme cap. He pushed to his feet, held out a hand to clasp the one Fox offered.
    â€œHow you doing?” Fox asked.
    â€œYou tell me.”
    â€œCome on back, Mr. Edwards. We’ll talk about it.”
    Works outside, Layla decided as Fox led his client back. A farmer maybe, or a builder, a landscaper. A couple clicks over sixty, and discouraged.
    â€œWhat’s his story, Alice? Can you tell me?”
    â€œProperty dispute,” Alice said as she gathered up envelopes. “Tim Edwards has a farm a few miles south of town. Developers bought some of the land that runs with it. Survey puts some eight acres of Tim’s land over the line. Developer wants it, so does Tim. I’m going to run to the post office.”
    â€œI can do that.”
    Alice wagged a finger. “Then I wouldn’t get the walk or the gossip. I’ve got notes here on a trust Fox is putting together. Why don’t you draft that out while I’m gone?”
    Alone, Layla sat, got to work. Within ten minutes, she wondered why people needed such complicated, convoluted language to say the straightforward. She picked her way through it, answered the phone, made appointments. When Alice came back, she had questions. She noted that Edwards walked out looking considerably less discouraged.
    By one o’clock, she was on her own and pleased to print out the trust Alice had proofed for her. By page two, the printer signaled its cartridge was out of ink. She went to the supply closet across from the pretty little law library hoping Fox stocked backups. She spotted the box on the top shelf.
    Why was it always the top shelf? she wondered. Why were there top shelves