Angel Fire East by Terry Brooks

He looked at Ross. “How about you, Mr. Ross? Do you know anything about this business?”

His tone of voice and the emphasis he gave to his words turned his question into an accusation. Nest was stunned.

John Ross merely shook his head.”I just got here last night.”

“Didn’t see anyone out in the park when you drove up?”

“I came in on the bus.”

“Are you from around here, Mr. Ross?”

“No, I—”

“Just a minute, John.” Nest had had enough. She fixed Larry Spence with a withering look. “As a sheriff’s deputy, you make a great Nazi, Larry. What are you doing? John is an old friend and a guest in my house. I invited you in out of kindness, not to give you a chance to practice your interrogation skills.”

The big man nodded, a gesture intended to placate, as if anything else might invite further attack. He brushed at his mop of blond hair. “His name came up during my investigation, Nest.”

“What?” She stared. “How?”

He shrugged. “Anonymous source.”

“Anonymous source? How convenient!”

He took a slow, steadying breath. “I’m just doing my job, girl, asking these questions. And I’m concerned about your safety. Mr. Ross is a stranger, and I just want to be sure—”

She came to her feet abruptly, incensed. “You don’t have to be sure in my house, Larry. You just have to be courteous. I think you better go.”

He rose reluctantly, then nodded at Ross. “I apologize for any rudeness, Mr. Ross. I didn’t come here to make trouble.”

John Ross nodded back. “You don’t need to apologize to me, Deputy.”

Larry Spence looked down at the floor. “Nest, I’m sorry. But I worry about you. Rumors have a way of sneaking up on you, if you don’t keep an eye on them. If there’s drug dealing going on in the park, I don’t want you to be associated with it.”

Nest stared at him. For just an instant she sensed that he was talking about something else entirely, that he was trying to tell her something. She shook her head slowly and stepped up to him. “Larry, I appreciate your concern. But drugs have never been a part of my life and certainly not of John’s. I promise you, if we see anything suspicious, we’ll give you a call.”

The big man nodded, turned, and started back down the hall. He caught sight of Little John perched on the sofa, staring out at the park, and turned back to Ross. “Your son?”

Ross nodded.

Spence looked at the boy, puzzlement etched in his rough features, as if he found the boy’s presence difficult to accept. Then he continued down the hall to the front door, where he paused.

“The offer for Christmas is still open. Kids would love it.”

“I don’t think so, Larry,” she replied, wondering what in the world he was thinking.

He nodded, opened the door, and went back outside. Nest stood in the doorway and watched as he climbed into his sheriff’s car and drove slowly off. Her hands were clenched and her throat was tight with anger.

Larry Spence, she decided, was an idiot.

-=O=-***-=O=-

The Indian seemed to come out of nowhere, appearing amidst the bare trees in a wooded stretch behind the toboggan slide, all size and dark shadows in the graying light. He was big all over, dressed in camouflage pants, ribbed army sweater, mesh vest, and combat boots. His black hair glistened with a gunmetal sheen, braided and drawn tight against his scalp, and his coppery skin shone like orange fire. He carried a rucksack and a rolled blanket over one shoulder, and his eyes, even from so far away, were bright pinpricks beneath his heavy brow.

Bennett Scott forgot about Penny and the drugs and everything else, and simply stared at him as he approached, his slow, heavy steps carrying him steadily closer, until he seemed to take up all the space in her screen of vision.

At the last minute, Penny, still whispering sweet enticements and urgent pleas, realized something was wrong. She backed away quickly and turned as the Indian loomed over her. Bennett heard her gasp of surprise and shock turn an instant later to a hiss of warning.

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