Free A Blind Eye by G. M. Ford Page A

and I’ve managed to get myself arrested and extradited to Texas. If I didn’t know better, I’d ask the gods how things could possibly be worse. I’d—”
    By the time he got that far, she’d crossed the room and put her arms around him. He stood rigid, his hands at his sides, as she locked him in her embrace. After a moment, his arms began to rise as if they had a will of their own, until they stood together in the gray light, holding each other in a mutual embrace.
    Thirty seconds past the time limit on social hugs, they stepped back from each other and pretended to rearrange their clothes. She cleared her throat. “I’ve gotta pack and get out of here if I’m gonna make my flight.”
    He turned toward the window. “See ya,” he said.
    “Yeah.”
    He stood gazing at the parking lot below and the town beyond until he heard the hiss of the door and silence filled the room. He walked to the bed, picked up his journal and his pen, and began to write.

9
    M issed the door entirely. Wasn’t until he heard the scrape of a shoe that Corso looked up. By that time Sheriff Trask was standing in the center of the room, hands on hips, looking at Corso as if she were going to stare a hole in him. Corso clipped his pen over the pages, closed the journal, and slipped it into the outside pocket of his suitcase. He got to his feet.
    “Where’s our Texas friends?” he asked.
    “Seems they got hungry and went to lunch over at Ruth’s.” She took a quick survey of the room. “Left me a note saying they’d be back to pick you up at one o’clock sharp.”
    Corso checked the clock on the wall. Twelve-oh-nine. He was reaching down to retrieve his journal when her voice froze him.
    “Guy like you’d probably be able to get quite a ways from here by one o’clock,” she said. “With any luck at all, a guy like you might even be able to stay lost for the next week or so, until that grand jury’s term expires, and then…you know…just maybe put this whole thing behind him.”
    Corso took his time drawing himself up to his full height. Her expression said she wasn’t kidding. “I think maybe I missed the beginning of this movie,” he said.
    She gestured his way. “What with the short hair and that big old knot across your forehead and that pair of shiners, you don’t look a bit like any of the pictures they’re showing on the TV. You’re a whole different guy.”
    Corso didn’t speak. His face tingled from the tension in the room.
    “What if I let you walk?” she asked finally. “What if I let you grab your big black bag and walk right out of here?”
    “I thought you were worried about your image.”
    She made a rude noise with her lips. “That Richardson boy’s already got me bent over a barrel,” she said. “Only way I’m gonna come out of this on top is if I come up with something splashy on this Holmes thing. Something nobody else’s got. Something I can call a news conference about and blow him out of the water.”
    “I wouldn’t hold my breath,” Corso said. “Case is cold as hell.”
    Her eyes narrowed. “That’s where you come into it, big fella.”
    “How’s that?” He checked the clock again. Twelve thirteen.
    “You’ve got five days to kill, right? Till that grand jury peters out.” She didn’t wait for an answer. “If I let you walk out of here…you agree to spend those five days finding out whatever you can about Miss Sissy Warwick.” Corso opened his mouth, but she kept talking. “You ask those Melissa-D people of yours to find out where she came from. You—”
    “There’s no such thing,” Corso said quickly.
    She waved his protest off. “You do whatever it takes to get me something I can use.” She walked over and stood directly in front of him. “You look me in the eye and tell me you’ll give me five days of your best efforts, and I’ll let you walk out of here.”
    “Me escaping isn’t going to do a thing for your image.”
    “It’s not an escape,” she