Free Hush by Nancy Bush Page B

She‘d survived two marriages and as many divorces and she was all about work, which was fine by Danner, as he was a lot the same way. But she‘d just left on two weeks‘ vacation and it had left him a bit rootless and dissatisfied. In this funk he‘d accepted an invitation with his ―date,‖ now seated across from him, and he could already tell it was a huge mistake.

    Had he really thought this would work?

    He smiled at her. She was a nice woman. Someone he‘d gone to school with. He watched her mouth and tried to concentrate on her words. The weather? Politics? God, he hoped not.
    Whether the latest celebrity marriage would end in divorce before or after they had children?

    His ears seemed incapable of listening, yet he listened every day to information that would help him solve serious crimes. Just that morning he‘d interviewed a man suspected in multiple gang shootings and had learned some key information that had led to the discovery of a cache of guns and ammunition that could put the bastard away for several lifetimes.

    But for now, on this late Saturday afternoon, he was seated at a café table in Cannon Beach under a covered porch, thank God, because the rain was streaking from a black sky, the wind was winding up from a low moan to a building shriek, and the approaching storm had sent all but him and his date scurrying inside.

    She suddenly looked at him expectantly and he quickly reran her last words through his mind, praying he would remember the gist of her conversation.

    Aware of his distraction, she asked, ―What‘d I just say?‖

    ―Something about your family?‖

    ―Uh-huh. What was it?‖

    She always talked about her family. There were issues among them that she considered to be a lot bigger than they were. He could have told her he‘d seen a lot of families with a whole hell of a lot worse problems, but she wasn‘t much of a listener, either, so he let it go. ―You wish your mother would stop interfering in your affairs.‖

    ―Nice try. I wish she showed some interest in my affairs rather than that rat-faced loser with the houndstooth jackets and musky aftershave she‘s been dating. God, what a loser.‖

    ―I thought you said your mother was through with him, and it was too bad, because he at least seemed to care about her.‖

    ―I was wrong. They‘re still together.‖

    Danner reminded her, ―You thought he was the one getting used, not your mom, because she was involved in some secret affair, or something?‖

    ―Okay, okay! You do listen. But I was wrong about that, too.‖ She held up her hands and half smiled. ―I said as much to Mom and she got really bitchy about it.‖

    ―Imagine that.‖

    ―Told me I didn‘t know my ass from a hole in the ground—the PG version of those words, anyway—and that I should mind my own business. There wasn‘t some secret affair, apparently. But her relationship with Barry is just wrong . They‘re too kissy-smoochy in front of people and that‘s always a bad sign. Like they‘re trying to prove how happy they are when it‘s all a big fat lie.‖

    ―His name is Barry?‖ Danner asked.

    ―Barry,‖ she agreed as if the word tasted bad. She brooded for a moment, gazing out across the sand and toward the restless waves. The ocean was more a low-grade buzz than a roar; the roar was the driving rain and wind that shot in and slapped them with a gleeful snap of water and cold every few minutes. ―I wish—‖

    But he never got to hear what she wished for because a blast of sideways rain shot in and hit them with a swoosh, drenching their table.

    ―Oh, my God!‖ she cried, jumping from her seat. Her gray sweater-coat was soaked and her black slacks looked wet, too.

    ―Let‘s go.‖ Danner was laughing as he followed her inside the restaurant, his own jeans wet from waist to knee, his black cotton sweater soaked across the waist, his black parka easily weathering the blast. They‘d ordered coffee for her and a light beer