Before heading off to work, he scribbled a note, telling her to help herself to anything in the house and leaving his cell-phone number and a message to call Reba.
Arriving at the newspaper office, Colton barely made it to his desk before the questions started. It seemed everyone knew about Jewel’s fire and that the beautiful blonde was staying at his place.
He nearly groaned out loud. How had he managed to forget about small-town gossip?
Hastily, he put together a “no comment” type statement. “It’s a temporary thing until she figures out where else to go.”
His boss, Floyd, grabbed a chair and sat, straddling it. Of anyone with questions, he was the only person Colton had to answer to. A former hotshot reporter from New Jersey, he’d retired and moved to Texas to run the small newspaper. “Is she in the Witness Protection Program?”
Before Colton could answer, Floyd continued. “Because if she is, then they should be the ones worried about moving her. Not you. You don’t want to get involved with something like this, believe me.”
“She’s not and they’re not.” He tried to make his answers short and to the point, unwilling to give too much of Jewel’s personal life away. As if he knew very much of it, anyway.
Floyd leaned closer. “Let me tell you, Colt. I’ve lived around these big palookas all my life. People like this Leo Licciardoni, he’s got connections everywhere. You follow?”
“I know.”
“And you still got involved?” Floyd whistled. “That woman must be something, that’s all I’ve got to say.”
“You’ve never seen her?” Joe Davies and Susan Riddler, two of his co-workers, wandered over. Joe winked at Colton. “She looks like she could be one of those models for that lingerie catalog.”
Susan shook her head. “Give her a break. I heard the fire was deliberate.” Her voice signaled she was in full reporter mode. “Do you think the car accident might have been, too?”
“Anything is possible,” Colton said in his best gruff, quit-wasting-my-time voice. “Now can I get to work? Believe it or not, I’ve got stuff to do.”
“Think of the story,” Susan breathed. “What I wouldn’t give to write it.”
Eyes bright, Floyd snapped his fingers. “That’s it, people. The story of the year has just been dumped in our lap. And we’ve got a man on the inside to cover it.”
They all looked at Colton.
He shook his head. “No can do. Conflict of interest.”
Floyd narrowed his eyes. “Bullshit. You’ve been a major player in a much larger market. Your name on the byline will give this story credibility. I’ll bet all the wire services will pick it up. Our little paper can finally grab some recognition. You’ll write it.”
Because he needed to keep his job, even though he had no intention of exposing Jewel any further, Colton held his tongue. He could stall them, tell Floyd he was working on gaining her trust. That would keep them off track for a little while.
Leaving him free to concentrate on finding out the name of her local enemy.
No money, no car, no home.Repeating the words like a mantra, Jewel paced the streets of Colton’s neighborhood, using exercise as both an outlet for her frustration and a way to stay in shape. Even though she had to keep an eye out for danger, she didn’t think anyone would recognize her now. Not only had she chopped off her long hair, but she’d used the last of the money Colton had loaned her to purchase hair dye, and she’d colored it red. Oversize sunglasses and baggy discount-store clothing completed the disguise.
She looked nothing at all like beautiful Jewel Smith, even less like glamorous Julie Licciardoni.
Now, she could come up with a viable plan. First, she needed more money. The only way to get it would be to find a job. Something like waitressing, where she could make instant cash from tips.
One of the numerous restaurants in town might hire her. And, if she could manage to get a morning shift, maybe she could ride to town with Colton.
Energized at the prospect, she began walking toward downtown Anniversary.
A half hour later, perspiring and dehydrated in the blazing sun, she took shelter under a huge pecan tree. If she’d been able to change, she could have made much better time, as well as been able to sniff out water to drink.
As it was, she hadn’t even thought to bring bottled water. Ahead, she saw a gas station and convenience store. Since she had no money, she couldn’t buy a drink, but maybe they’d have a water fountain inside.
They didn’t, but the young clerk took pity on her and gave her a bottle of water on the house. She gratefully drained it before hitting the street again.
The first café she came to wasn’t hiring. Neither was the Cajun place or the Catfish buffet. At the third restaurant she tried, Jack’s Grill on the Water, which seemed more of a sports bar than anything else, the manager took one look at her and hired her on the spot. “Big Al,” as he invited her to call him, accepted her elaborate story of losing all her identification papers in the fire without blinking.
“Can you work tonight?” He handed her a black and white striped referee shirt and a short black skirt. “Do you have a pair of black high heels?”
