Free Disturbing the Dead by Sandra Parshall Page A

huge.
    Rachel looked up at him without wavering. “Holly and I haven’t finished our conversation.”
    Buddy leaned one hand on the table, one on the back of the booth, and brought his face within inches of Rachel’s. She got a blast of his beery breath when he said, “It’s finished.”
    Before she could answer, he grabbed her arm and hauled her out of the booth and onto her feet. “Get your hands off me!” she cried.
    He tossed her belongings at her and as she fumbled to catch her coat and purse, her umbrella clattered to the floor. Under his baleful gaze, she snatched it up and almost gave in to the impulse to bash him in the face with it. Only the sight of Holly, with both hands over her mouth and her eyes wide with terror, stopped her.
    Buddy gripped Rachel’s arm, spun her around and pushed. She tried to pull free, but he was bigger and stronger and he propelled her out the door. He shoved her into the rain, gave her one last malicious look, and stalked back inside.
    “Damn it, damn it, damn it,” she swore, dripping wet and furious that she’d let herself be manhandled, furious that he’d gotten the better of her, furious that a creepy thug and drug dealer like Buddy could decide what Holly did with her life. Feeling like an abject failure, she climbed into her Range Rover, slammed the door and locked it. Her shaking hand took forever to maneuver the key into the ignition.
    A knock on the window made her gasp. But Holly stood there, not Buddy. He was nowhere in sight.
    “Dr. Goddard, I’m sorry!” Holly called through the closed window. Rain plastered her black hair to her head and ran in rivulets down her cheeks and neck.
    Rachel lowered the window halfway.
    “I’m so sorry,” Holly said. “I’m not like him. Really I’m not.”
    “I can see that, Holly. What’s his problem? He doesn’t even know me.”
    “That’s just it. He don’t like strangers comin’ around.” Holly gripped the top of the window glass with both hands. “Dr. Goddard, all I want in the world is to get away from here. You callin’ me, it was like God answerin’ my prayers. Please give me a chance, I’m beggin’ you. Please let me work for you.”
    Rachel squeezed her eyes shut against sudden tears. Her head hurt. Her heart ached. She wanted nothing more than to whisk this girl away to a better life, free her from this dive and these people and everything they represented. But how could she make it work?
    “Listen,” she said. “I’ll check around and find a place for you to live in town. Then it won’t matter that you can’t drive.”
    Holly nodded, but murmured, “My grandma’s not gonna like that one bit.”
    “Do you want me to talk to her?”
    “No!” The word burst out loud and urgent. Holly shot a glance at the diner before she said, “No, ma’am, please don’t. I’ll handle it. When do you want me to start work?”
    “Whenever you’re ready and I’ve found a place for you to live.”
    With the rain pouring down on her, Holly chewed her lip, her forehead creased by doubt. Rachel knew exactly what the girl was feeling, the hope and frustration swirling together, the fear that she wasn’t strong enough to stand up for what she wanted. Rachel had spent most of her own young adulthood trying not to let that mix of emotions paralyze her as she tried to assert herself against an iron-willed mother.
    “Look,” she said, digging in her shoulder bag for a memo pad and pen, “I’ll give you my numbers at work and at home. Call me when you’re ready. I’ll pick you up.”
    Holly nodded, her smile tentative, her eyes conveying more anxiety than excitement.
    Rachel was about to hand the scrap of paper to Holly when Buddy Shackleford opened the door of the diner and stepped out. “He’s watching,” Rachel said. “Don’t let him see you take this.” Out of his sight, she folded the paper into her palm. She placed her hand over Holly’s and they managed to transfer the note without exposing