Free Unspeakable by Sandra Brown Page B

had failed. The old man wouldn't even discuss it, wouldn't even listen. What he needed was a new plan of attack. Yes. Something bold.
    Bold. What a great word. When people talked about it later—and Emory was certain they would—they would say, "It never would have come about if Lomax hadn't made that bold move." "Brass balls. That's what Lomax had or he never would have done something that bold." Absently gazing through the tinted window, he willed himself to be inspired. But all he noted was a battered pickup truck cruising slowly down Main Street.
    CHAPTER TEN

    "H e seemed okay," Delray said into the telephone. "But you can't be too careful these days."
    "Especially in your situation, Mr. Corbett. I mean now that—"
    "I know what you mean," Delray said, interrupting curtly.
    The man on the other end of the line must have realized that he had put his foot in his mouth, because he rushed to say, "Just remember that I did this as a personal favor to you. This sort of detective work isn't my company's specialty."
    "I understand."
    "What I'd like to propose is for you to let me send out an armed guard. Just until this, uh, incident blows over."
    "No thank you." Delray didn't equivocate. "I appreciate what you did for me. Especially since it's not really your line. But that's all I need. Good-bye."
    He hung up, his face flushed with anger. He had asked the owner of a local security company, son of one of his former domino buddies, now deceased, to run a background check on Jack Sawyer.
    That was all. But, sticking to tradition, the guy couldn't resist connecting him to Carl Herbold. He took several deep breaths, forcing himself to calm down. The guy's remarks weren't worth a rise in his blood pressure. He talked it down to a safer level and focused on the good news. The report on Sawyer had come back clean.
    The security company had entered his name, Social Security number, driver's license, and car tag into the system. They hadn't cross-matched any bankruptcies, bad credit, or bounced checks. He owed no back child support. No arrests were on record. Not even a traffic ticket. Assimilating the information, Delray moved to the living room window and looked out across the yard. Sawyer had promised David that he would hang a swing from one of the large pecan trees. He'd gone into town yesterday to buy the supplies. Then last night, after hours and on his own time, he had sawed, sanded, and varnished the board for the seat. He'd found the chain in the toolshed and asked Delray's permission to use it.
    Now he was adjusting the length of the chain so that the swing would be suspended the proper distance from the ground to accommodate the boy. With the swing about to be finished, David was hopping around and chattering with more animation than usual.
    Naturally, Delray was relieved to learn that he hadn't hired a criminal or a deadbeat. It spoke well of his judgment that the report on Sawyer turned up nothing unfavorable. So why did he feel a little let down? Had he secretly wanted to hear that David's new hero had an arrest record as long as his arm, that he was wanted by the FBI, the IRS, and several other government entities? Had he been looking for a good excuse to send Sawyer packing?
    On the one hand he would hate to. After only three days, he would feel the loss. It was too early to make a sound determination, of course, but so far he couldn't complain about Sawyer's work ethic. Just as he'd promised, the man put in a full day and then some. And it was damned easier to get through the workday with an extra pair of hands and a strong back helping out. He could no longer argue that he didn't need a hand. Having Sawyer had convinced him that he did. But he disliked Sawyer's being around all the time, and in such close proximity. He didn't welcome having other people on the place. Particularly other men. Even more particularly, men he knew virtually nothing about.
    He, Anna, and David had lived here alone for a long time. They