Free The Edge of Dawn by Beverly Jenkins Page A

you would please?”
    â€œLook in the desk in my bedroom,” Willie told her helpfully.
    Narice returned and Saint stuffed the passports, the fake social security cards, and driver’s licenses into the large manila envelope. He licked the top and sealed it. He then asked the visitors, “You guys ever been to Guantanamo Bay? The U.S. government has a five-star bed-and-breakfast you’ll really like.”
    One of the men spit at Saint.
    Uncle Willie warned ominously, “Do that again, and you’re going to join your boy over there by the door.”
    The man’s eyes blazed, and he sneered. “There are more where we came from. Thousands more. We will not rest until the Eye is found.”
    Saint cracked, “Glad to hear it. Just tell your buddies not to forget their Bibles.”
    Uncle Willie’s booming laugh filled the room.
    Ten minutes later the authorities descended on the house with siren screaming police cars, helicopters, ambulances, and swat teams. The neighbors lined the streets trying to see what they could see; TV people were running up and down the block, microphones in hand, attempting to find and interview someone who’d seen something—anything so the station could be first with the breaking news.
    Narice was in one of Willie’s upstairs bedrooms watching the circus through the curtain-framed window. Now that the police knew Uncle Willie had everything under control, they were trying to clear the street.
    She turned away and flopped down on the bed on her back. The bedroom was the smaller of the two guest bedrooms in the house. It was the room she’d always slept in whenever her parents spent the night. Back then, the young Narice would never have imagined that in this house there would be a day like today. Never. The dead man’s tarp-covered body had been taken out on a stretcher by the EMS and driven to the morgue. It would take a while for her to forget how he’d looked lying there on the floor. She shuddered involuntarily and turned over. She was tired. A heartbeat later, her eyelids closed.
    Downstairs, Saint and Uncle Willie were finishing up their statements to the police. Uncle Willie took great delight in telling his former colleagues how he’d personally thwarted the band of foreigners who’d he said, targeted him as just another helpless senior citizen. Uncle Willie told the detectives he was convinced the foreign thugs had intended to rob him, “But I put a stop to that!” he boasted proudly.
    In the end, the police believed the men were robbers, too.
    Saint didn’t say a word.
    When the police were gone, Willie got himself a Molson out of the fridge, then gestured for Saint to sit, so they could talk.
    Willie’s first words were, “Man-oh-man. Haven’t had that much fun in a while.” He then asked, “How do you think they found you?”
    â€œTracking device maybe. Probably planted somewhere on Narice.”
    Willie took a draw on his beer and nodded. “You have a way of checking?”
    Saint nodded.
    â€œThis is turning out to be pretty nasty. You’ll keep her safe, won’t you?”
    â€œAnd have you coming after me with Arnold if I don’t? I’ll keep her safe, don’t worry.”
    â€œAnd keep your hands off her?”
    Saint assessed the old cop for a long moment, before saying, “That’s between me and Narice.”
    Willie smiled, “Good answer. I respect a man who’ll tell an old man to butt out. Break her heart, though, and it’ll be me, you, and Arnold.”
    Saint didn’t doubt that for a minute. “I’m going up and see if I can’t find the tracking device.”
    Saint entered the room quietly when he saw her asleep on the bed. He didn’t want to wake her but he needed to check out the contents of her purse.
    He crossed over to the bed and stood over her for a moment to watch her sleep. Inside of himself,