Doucet 03 - Cry Wolf by Hoag Tami

Author:Hoag, Tami [Hoag, Tami]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Retail
ISBN: 9780745154756
Goodreads: 84850
Publisher: Orion
Published: 1993-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

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Chapter

Seventeen

They saw the commotion all the way from the dock at Frenchie’s Landing. Cars were parked up and down the road. A crowd of considerable size had gathered. From that distance only the indistinct crackle of a voice could be heard through a bad speaker system; not individual words, just the rise and fall of pitch and tempo, but there was no mistaking the fact that something exciting was going on at the former Texaco station that had only yesterday stood empty across the road from Frenchie’s.

Laurel glanced at Jack—something she had been avoiding doing all afternoon, since the humiliation of breaking down in front of him. His shoulders rose and fell in a lazy shrug. He was the picture of indifference with his khaki shirt hanging open, baseball cap tipped back on his head, stringer of glossy fish hanging from his fist.

He had no interest in what was going on across the road. His focus was on Laurel and the curious shyness that had come over her. He had never known a woman who didn’t shed tears with gusto and impunity. Yet Laurel had shrunk from her emotional outburst—and from him—clearly embarrassed that she had shown such vulnerability in front of him.

He wondered if she ever cut herself an inch of slack. She demanded perfection of herself, a goal that was simply unattainable for any mortal human being. A trait he should have steered well clear of. Le bon Dieu knew he was the farthest thing from perfect. But he caught himself admiring her for it. She seemed so small and fragile, but she had a deep well of strength, and she went to it again and again, and accepted no excuses.

That’s more than you can say for yourself, mon ami.

They crunched across the crushed shell of the parking lot another few yards, aiming for the bar, but Laurel’s gaze held fast on the goings-on across the road. Spectators milled around, craning their necks for a better look at something. An auction, perhaps, she thought, though she couldn’t recall seeing anything at the old gas station worth buying. The place had been stripped bare and abandoned back in the seventies, during the oil embargo. Then one word crackled across the distance, and stopped her dead.

“. . . damnation!”

She sucked in an indignant breath and let it out in a furious gust. “That son of a bitch!”

Before Jack could say a word, she wheeled and made a beeline toward the station, her shoulders braced squarely, her stride quick and purposeful. He should have just let her go. He stood there for a second, intending to do just that. He wanted to drop off the fish for T-Grace and have himself a tall, cold beer. He didn’t want to stick his nose into some damned hornet’s nest. But as he watched Laurel stomp away, he couldn’t put from his mind the image of her in his arms, weeping against his chest because she hadn’t been able to give Lady Justice the miracle of sight.

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