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She was looking at him with such appeal, he could tell that it was important to her that he accept. He bobbed his head and gave her a gruff okay. “Thanks. I won’t keep it for long.”
“For as long as you need it, it’s yours to use. I’ll go get the key.” She turned to Brynn. “Will you still be here when I come down?”
“I’m afraid not.” She motioned toward the entrance. Wilson was just pulling his car to a stop. “My ride is back. I’m glad I caught you, though. I didn’t want to leave town without checking on your husband’s condition. Please tell him I wish him a speedy recovery. But not to rush it,” she added with mock sternness.
“I’ll tell him.”
Brynn reached into her coat pocket. “I wrote down my cell number. I would appreciate knowing how he’s coming along.” Marlene took the slip of paper from Brynn, then clasped her hand as before. “Thank you again for what you did for Brady last night.”
“It was precious little. I regret not having had the pleasure of meeting him when he was conscious.”
“Maybe you could come back with Rye.”
He and Brynn gave each other a fleeting look, but neither made a commitment.
Sensing the awkwardness she had unwittingly created, Marlene gave Brynn a quick goodbye hug, then told Rye she would soon be back with her car key. The elevator door opened as soon as she pushed the button.
Then he and Brynn were alone in the lobby. Even the woman at the sliding window had deserted her post.
Brynn looked up at him, but not directly. Somewhere in the general vicinity of his chin. She said, “I guess this is goodbye.”
“I guess.” He looked out at the sheriff’s unit. “Wilson’s chauffeuring you all the way to Atlanta?”
“No. The Ford dealership here in town leases cars. Of course it’s closed today, but, under the circumstances, Wilson thinks the owner might open long enough for me to get a car. But I hated to call him so early on a holiday. I’m waiting until nine o’clock.”
He nodded to all that but remarked on none of it.
After the short lapse, she asked, “You’re going out to the crash site?”
“Yeah.” He looked toward the entrance again. The vapor from Wilson’s tailpipe was adding ghosts to the fog. “Maybe this stuff will burn off soon, and I can get some pictures on my phone.”
“They won’t be pretty pictures.”
“’Fraid not.”
“I’m really sorry about the plane.”
“Me, too.” He repositioned the strap of his flight bag on his shoulder and tried his damnedest not to notice the strand of hair that kept slipping from behind her ear and curving against her cheek like a black satin question mark. “You’d better not keep Johnny Law waiting any longer.”
She looked outside and smiled. “I think he’s a little ticked for having to babysit me.”
Rye noted the time. “Less than two hours till nine.”
“He’s offered to take me to breakfast while we wait. Maybe a hot meal will improve his mood.” Coming back to Rye, she said, “Well…” and stuck out her right hand.
He looked down at it, hesitated, then took it. “I hope your cancer patient makes it.”
With that, her eyes met his head-on. “Thank you. Very much. So do I.”
He sensed there was hidden meaning in her words, but he couldn’t just stand there gazing into her rain-colored eyes in search of it, so he gave her hand a cursory shake and released it as though it had stung his palm.
She backed away several steps, then turned around and headed for the door. However, she hadn’t covered but a few yards before she stopped and turned back. “There is one question I’ve been wanting to ask you.”
He rolled his shoulders in a motion of assent.
“You said, ‘They did what they came to do.’”
This time he rolled his shoulders to indicate puzzlement. Since it was entirely faked, he added a furrowed brow to help convey perplexity.
