Free Stolen Secrets by Nancy Radke Page B

wanted something special. Well, anyway, I said yes. I wasn’t doing anything, you know. I’d just opened my shop door when this car pulls up and a man gets out. He hailed me, and I thought he needed directions, so I waited. Instead he pulled a gun and motioned me inside.”
    “So Mr. Brown wasn’t there yet?” the officer asked, taking notes as George talked.
    “No. He came a few minutes later. They probably were looking all over town for a place to rob. Saw me open my door. It must’ve been an opportune time for them. They didn’t look at all prepared.”
    “That’s for sure,” agreed the officer. “Their car had bald tires on it. It’s a miracle they got as far as they did with the streets so bad.”
    “Well, they weren’t wearing masks, which made me think they planned to kill me. They were as nervous as an apprentice making his first major diamond cut— an apprentice has to pay for any diamond he destroys,” he explained. “Anyway, these clowns left their car running by the curb and came inside. I’d everything locked up and had to open the safe for them. Then Warren came in, fast, not expecting trouble. When they turned their guns on him, he just reacted. Took two steps and knocked the nearest one flat.”
    George shuddered and the others waited for him to regain his composure. “The thief just panicked, I’m sure of it. As he fell, he shot Warren, shot at me, then jumped up and ran. And Warren... he just, well he looked at me, sort of surprised before he fell. I don’t think he— ”
    “That’s plenty. Were there any other witnesses you know of?”
    “No.”
    “Any stores open next door? Across the street?”
    “No.” George wiped his hand across his face. “I’d pushed my silent alarm button as soon as I got behind the counter, you see, so you guys— police, ambulance— showed up right away.”
    Ryan shook his head, his mouth dry. That would’ve been just like Warren, to come to the aid of a friend without any regard for his own safety. Angie squeezed his hand, and he looked down at her fingers, feeling the warmth flowing from her to him. He hadn’t realized she had drawn so close to him, standing on one foot with the crutch propped up against her side.
    He squeezed her hand in return. It felt good to have her next to him at this moment. Silent comfort in a time of loss, the understanding touch of someone who says with their presence, "I'm sorry. I understand your pain. I wish I could help"— which offers more comfort than a thousand meaningless condolences.
    She couldn’t be involved in this mess, she just couldn’t.
    Officer Granger pocketed his tape recorder. “Can you make a positive ID of the thief?” he asked George.
    “Yes. Want me to do it now?”
    “Might as well. He isn’t much to look at— didn’t have his seat belt on. If you don’t mind?”
    “Sure.”
    “You too, Miss. I’ll bring his shoes out so you won’t have to go all the way into the morgue.”
    “Thanks.” She released Ryan’s hand— he felt the loss— and took hold of her crutch again.
    He followed her down the stairs to the Medical Examiner’s area. Angie handled the crutches with expert ease.
    They waited at the counter until the clerk slid back the glass to see what they wanted. Officer Granger asked him for Fairweather’s shoes.
    Ryan looked at Angie, wanting so to believe her innocence. Computer thieves didn’t do hard crime— although, if they had really broken into Scott’s office, it disproved that. He shook his head, wondering what to think. If she had just made up the robbery in the first place to protect herself, she wouldn’t be able to identify the shoes. The more elaborate the story a person made up, the easier it became to catch them in a lie.
    He must find out the truth about her before he fell in love. He could feel the warning signs— the need to be near her, the desire to help her. His heart so wanted her to be innocent, it’d believe anything. He mustn’t listen to