The Winner by David Baldacci

“Charlie said you were a cop.”

“I never said so.”

She looked at him, surprise now clear on her features. “Well, were you?”

“What I was really isn’t any of your business. And you still haven’t told me what you’re doing here.”

She rubbed her hand across the old leather chair. She didn’t answer right away and Riggs was content to let the silence endure until she broke it. “What happened this morning is a little more complicated than it appeared. It’s something that I’m taking care of.” She paused and looked up at him, her eyes searching his. “I appreciate what you did. You helped me and you didn’t have to. I came here to thank you.”

Riggs relaxed a little bit. “Okay, although I didn’t expect any thanks. You needed some help and I was around to give it. One human being to another. The world would be a hell of a lot better place if we all lived by that rule.”

“I also came to ask a favor.”

Riggs inclined his head toward her, waiting.

“The situation this morning, I would appreciate it if you’d just forget about it. Like I said, Charlie and I are taking care of it. If you got involved, it might make things more difficult for me.”

Riggs took this in for a few moments.

“Do you know the guy?”

“I really don’t want to get into it.”

Riggs rubbed his chin. “You know, the guy banged me up. So I already feel like I’m involved.”

LuAnn moved closer to him. “I know you don’t know me, but it would mean a lot if you would just drop it. It really would.” Her eyes seemed to widen with each word spoken.

Riggs felt himself drawing closer to her although he hadn’t physically budged an inch. Her gaze seemed to be pasted onto his face, all the sunlight streaming through the window seemed to be blocked out as though an eclipse were occurring.

“I’ll tell you what: Unless the guy gives me any more trouble, I’ll forget it ever happened.”

LuAnn’s tensed shoulders slumped in relief. “Thank you.”

She moved past him toward the stairs. The scent of her perfume drifted through his nostrils. His skin started to tingle. It had been a long time since that had happened.

“Your home is beautiful,” she said.

“It certainly doesn’t compare to yours.”

“Did you do it all yourself?”

“Most of it. I’m pretty handy.”

“Why don’t you come by tomorrow and we can talk about you doing some more work for me.”

“Ms. Savage—”

“Call me Catherine.”

“Catherine, you don’t have to buy my silence.”

“Around noon? I can have some lunch ready.”

Riggs gave her a searching look and then shrugged. “I can make that.”

As she started down the stairs, he called after her. “That guy in the Honda. Don’t assume he’s going to give up.”

She glanced back at the shotgun for one significant moment before settling her gaze on him.

“I never assume anything anymore, Matthew.”

“Well, it’s a good cause, John, and she likes to help good causes.” Charlie leaned back in his chair and sipped the hot coffee. He was sitting at a window table in the dining room of the Boar’s Head Inn, off Ivy Road a little west of the University of Virginia. Two plates held the remnants of breakfast. The man across from him beamed.

“Well, I can’t tell you how much it means to the community. Having her here—both of you—is just wonderful.” Wearing a costly double-breasted suit, with a colorful handkerchief dangling from the outer pocket and matching his polka-dot tie, the wavy-haired John Pemberton was one of the area’s most successful and well-connected real estate agents. He also sat on the boards of numerous charities and local committees. The man knew virtually everything that happened in the area, which was precisely the reason Charlie had asked him to breakfast. Further, the commission on the sale of LuAnn’s home had landed six figures in Pemberton’s pocket and he was, thus, an eternal friend.

Now he looked down at his lap and a sheepish grin appeared on his handsome features when he looked back up at Charlie. “We are hoping to actually meet Ms. Savage at some point.”

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