snatched away the pistol, flipping on the safety. Sidney made no move
to stop him, but fury suddenly sprawled across her features. “What are
you doing, breaking into my house? I could have shot you.”
Lee Sawyer slipped his pistol back into his belt holster and moved over
to the Ford.
“Front door was open, Ms. Archer. We thought something might be wrong
when you didn’t answer our knock.” His frankness made the fury evaporate
as quickly as it had surfaced. She had left the front door open when
she had raced inside to answer the phone call from her father. She put
her head down on the steering wheel. She struggled not to be sick. Her
entire body was soaked with perspiration.
She shivered as a chilly wind invaded the garage from the open door.
“Going somewhere?” Sawyer eyed the Ford and then rested his gaze on the
woman who sat back up dejectedly.
“Just for a drive.” Her voice was weak. She did not look at him.
She ran her hands over the steering wheel. The sweat from her palms
glistened on the padded surface.
Sawyer looked over at the stack of mail on the passenger seat.
“You always carry your mail in your car?”
Sidney followed his stare. “I don’t know how it got here. Maybe my
father put it there before he left.”
“That’s right. Right after you left. How was New Orleans, by the way?
You have a good time?”
Sidney stared dully at the man.
Sawyer placed one hand firmly under her elbow. “Let’s go have a chat,
Ms. Archer.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Before exiting the car, Sidney carefully gathered up the mail and slid
the Post under her arm. Out of the agents’ sight she slipped the disk
into her jacket pocket. Climbing out of the car, she eyed the pistol
Jackson had abruptly confiscated. “I have a concealed weapons permit
for that.” Sidney handed over the authorization.
“Mind if I unload it before I give it back?”
“If it’ll make you feel safer,” she said, hitting the button on the
garage door opener, closing the door of the Ford and heading toward the
house. “Just make sure you leave the bullets.”
Jackson stared after her, amazement on his features. The two FBI agents
followed her into the house.
“Would you like coffee? Something to eat? It’s still pretty early.”
These last words Sidney said in an accusatory fashion.
“Coffee would be fine,” Sawyer answered, ignoring her tone. Jackson
nodded his assent.
While Sidney poured out three cups of coffee, Sawyer methodically looked
her over. Her unwashed blond hair hung limply around her face, which
bore no makeup and was more drawn and haggard than the last time he had
been here. Her clothes hung loosely on her tall frame. Her green eyes
were as bewitching as usual, however. He picked up on the slight shake
in her hands while she handled the coffeepot. She was clearly on the
edge. He had to grudgingly admire how she was holding up under a
nightmare that seemed to metastasize with every passing day. But then
everybody had limits. He expected to learn Sidney Archer’s before it
was all over.
Sidney placed the cups of coffee on a tray with sugar and creamer.
She reached into the breadbox and pulled out an assortment of doughnuts
and muffins. She loaded the tray and placed it in the middle of the
kitchen table. While the agents helped themselves, she took out some
Rolaids and slowly crunched them.
“Good doughnut. Thanks. By the way, you usually carry a gun with you?”
Sawyer looked at her expectantly.
“There have been some break-ins nearby. I’ve received professional
instruction on how to use it. Besides, I’m no stranger to guns.
My dad and oldest brother, Kenny, were in the Marine Corps.
They’re also avid hunters. Kenny has an extensive firearms collection.
When I was growing up, my dad used to take me skeet and target shooting.
I’ve fired just about every type of weapon you can think of and I’m a
very good shot.”
Ray Jackson said, “You were handling the piece pretty good back there in
the garage.” He noted the crack in the grip. “I hope you didn’t drop it