Alison Kent - Smithson Group - 10 by André Jensen

Author:André Jensen [Jensen, André]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-01-16T23:20:34.920000+00:00

“Have you thought about talking to Terril ? Feel him out, see if he suspects anyone in Lisa’s disappearance?” Facing Simon across the booth that sat next to the window and being this close in the light shining through, it hit her for the first time how old he was.

His crow’s-feet were deeper than she’d realized, fanning out from the corners of his eyes to his temples. His face was scarred. Not in some dramatic exhibition, but he’d been hit or cut badly enough to need stitches in a couple of places.

Her hand went to her arm. The doctor who’d closed up the gash had recommended that she see a plastic surgeon instead, that he was an old sawbones and didn’t have the same equipment or experience, that his handiwork would leave a permanent mark.

Greta would kill her. Papi, too. But she’d told the doctor to go ahead, that a scar was the least of her worries. And that much was true. She’d been thinking about the mess surrounding her, not about taking home a souvenir to remind her of all she’d been through.

But now she wondered if the marks on Simon’s face brought back the battles he’d fought, or if he even noticed them anymore. If they’d become part of the landscape of his face, as familiar as his nose or his mouth.

“Don’t you think if Terril had any suspects he’d have brought them in? It’s not just that Lisa’s his wife. He’s the law.”

“That’s not what I asked you,” she said, making sure she had his attention before saying more, delaying another few seconds while her coffee and his milkshake were served. “I know that Lisa’s his wife and that he’s the law. I asked if you’d thought about talking to him.”

“Considering we probably know more than he does?” He shook his head. “Why?”

“Well, crime TV fanatic that I am,” she finally admitted, “it’s not hard to tie together the happenings of the last few days. I mean, there’s only so much coincidence that can be a coincidence. After that, there’s always a trail. One thing leading to the next. Like my questioning Judge Landry about Lisa’s disappearance and then ending up in the bayou less than an hour later.”

Simon straightened in his seat, his full attention caught by something she’d just said, the vein at his temple throbbing, the tendons in his neck popping into relief.

She frowned, unsteady. “What?”

“Less than an hour later. That’s what you said.” His words were clipped, his tone harsh.

“It could have been more than, but I don’t think so. I hadn’t been back on the road very long at all.”

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