Free Day Shift (Midnight, Texas #2) by Charlaine Harris Page B

though she kept it under a tight lid. She was smart enough about herself to know that she felt strongest and most effective in situations in which she could take control and take action. Not always the same thing . . . but often enough. “He didn’t do it,” she said.
    “I agree with both of you,” Bobo said. “He’s an honest man in a charlatan’s job. I don’t think he had any more to do with that than he did the murder/suicide the same weekend. In the same hotel.”
    There was a substantial silence.
    Olivia scowled. She did not exactly feel guilty. But she didn’t feel happy, either. And she hated the proximity of the newspeople. The new proprietors of the hotel were bad enough. One reason she’dsettled in Midnight was to avoid scrutiny . . . and because the place felt right. “I want this to go away,” she said, and she thought,
I miss Lem
.
    Bobo nodded. “Sure,” he said. “I do, too.”
    Olivia threw herself into a chair, a violently flowered padded rocker. Furniture that landed in the pawnshop tended to stay there. “So you’re seriously worried that he might be arrested?”
    “Yeah, I am,” he said. “I don’t think he’s guilty of anything, but the appearance of . . . well, being a psychic, that looks fraudulent. No matter what the truth is about that, it’s not right for him to be accused by the son of this woman he was trying to help. For another thing, the reporters are going to be coming in and out of town as long as there’s a story, and now they even have a place to stay right here in town, if the story gains traction. And they’ll be dragging up Aubrey’s murder and the Lovells’ disappearance.” The Lovell family had run Gas N Go prior to their sudden departure from Midnight. Aubrey Hamilton, Bobo’s former girlfriend, had been found dead in a riverbed north of town.
    Olivia thought about the situation for a few minutes. Her eyes went from Joe’s face to Bobo’s. Bobo was good about letting people think, one of his many fine qualities. Before she’d gotten to know Lemuel, Olivia had wondered why she didn’t feel any particular appreciation for Bobo as a man.
He’s too much rose, not enough thorn,
she concluded, as she pondered ways of getting the reporters out of Midnight.
    Joe said, “A few minutes ago one of the reporters came to get her nails done. She asked Chuy to hurry in case something broke in the story, but she was tired of standing outside Manfred’s door. So maybe they’ll just get bored and leave.”
    “Fat fucking chance,” Olivia said, and Bobo nodded. They were far more media savvy than Joe. The tinkle of the bell over the door made them all turn in that direction.
    To Olivia’s utter amazement (and from their faces, Bobo’s and Joe’s as well), the Rev walked into Midnight Pawn. And he was holding the hand of a little boy.
    Olivia could count on the fingers of one hand the times she’d seen the Rev in the pawnshop. The Rev’s orbit, besides a very rare shopping trip, included his home, the Wedding Chapel and Pet Cemetery, Home Cookin Restaurant . . . and nothing else, unless there was an extreme emergency.
    Therefore, this was such an emergency.
    And right after the door swung shut on the Rev and the little boy, it opened again to admit Fiji, who had a basket on her arm.
    “Following the Yellow Brick Road, Feej?” Bobo asked. “Hi, Rev. Hi, young man.” He walked over to squat down in front of the boy.
    Of course,
Olivia thought, half-exasperated.
He would love kids.
“Rev,” she said. “What can we do for you?” She watched Fiji flow around the Rev and come to a stop close to the boy, look at him intently. She opened the basket and out jumped Mr. Snuggly.
    Mr. Snuggly immediately went to the boy and stood at his feet, looking up. The boy had dark brown hair, long and tangled. He wore denim shorts and a
Walking Dead
T-shirt, which was an unusual choice for a child his apparent age. But what was that?
    “Hail, little brother,”