Unspeakable by Sandra Brown

Author:Sandra Brown [BROWN, SANDRA]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction / Thrillers / Suspense
ISBN: 9781455546459
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2013-06-24T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty

“What’s with him anyway?” Connie Skaggs was keeping well to her side of the getaway car’s backseat.

Myron was folded into the opposite corner. The space between the front and back seats barely accommodated his long legs. His knees poked up almost on a level with his chin.

“Is there something wrong with him, or is he just spooky as hell?”

Addressing her in the rearview mirror, Cecil said, “He’s a little different, honey, is all. But Carl says once you get used to him you hardly notice his strangeness. Isn’t that right, Carl?”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.” Carl sat hunched down in the front passenger seat, his shoulders pulled up so close to his ears that his shirt collar bracketed his mouth and made his mumble even more inarticulate.

“Well he gives me the creeps,” Connie stated candidly, as though Myron weren’t within earshot. “He’d better keep those pasty white hands off me.”

“He’s not going to bother you,” Cecil assured her.

“I’m just saying…” She let the implied threat dangle for a moment. Then, protectively folding her arms across her middle, she turned her head away from Myron to stare out the window, although it was dark and there wasn’t much to see.

With his head lolling forward, Myron had snoozed through the conversation. A bead of saliva clung precariously to his lower lip.

Cecil wished that Connie felt more kindly toward Myron. Or, short of that, that she had kept her low opinions of him to herself. This situation needed no additional drawbacks. Having the four of them compacted into such close quarters for an extended period of time would create a fertile breeding ground for dissension. If they didn’t tolerate each other’s idiosyncracies, the tension could get fierce. Already Carl was in one of his dark moods.

He had removed the necktie and jacket of the pinstripe suit he’d worn into the bank. But he still had on the suit trousers and polished wingtips. Cecil wondered where he’d stolen the outfit. It sure as hell didn’t belong to him.

When they had spoken in the bank, Cecil barely recognized his brother with his sideburns shaved off and his hair slicked down. The plan had been for them to meet there at the designated time. Carl’s disguise had taken Cecil aback for an instant, but it had been effective. A casual observer never would have connected the buttoned-down executive with the escaped convict. That’s what made Carl so damn special. He was clever as all get out.

But for somebody who had pulled off a daring bank robbery worth several hundred grand, his baby brother didn’t seem very happy. Carl should be experiencing a heady rush, a high. He should be celebrating their success. Instead, he was about as merry as a gravedigger. This was of paramount concern to Cecil, who knew from experience that nothing good ever came from one of Carl’s black depressions.

Hoping to divert a disaster, he tried to lighten the mood by engaging Carl in conversation. “You two pull that job the other night at the gas station?”

“What do you think?” Carl muttered.

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