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“I think I saw Leon yesterday out at the salvage yard.”
Bernice frowned. “Why in the world were you down there?”
“Harold and I were out walking again. When we went past the Stark place I heard the most beautiful music. I could tell it was coming from an old piano, though, and not a CD.”
“Well, it must have been your imagination. Earl never got past fourth grade, and from the strange way he behaves in town, he’s probably slipping into dementia. Folks say his son is intellectually disabled.”
“Maybe they had company?”
“No one with any sense would stay more than five minutes in that house. Some members of the town council wanted to condemn it years ago, but old Earl fought ’em.”
They ate in silence for several minutes, watching the sun slip beneath the ragged, pine-studded horizon.
“Ready for dessert?” Sara asked, waving at their waitress. “I hear they have something interesting.”
“No. I couldn’t.” The restaurant had been filling up while they ate, and now Bernice cast a nervous glance at the crowded dining room behind her. “I think I’d rather go home.”
The waitress bore down on their table with a bright smile and a small birthday cake ablaze with lit candles. Behind her, a ripple of applause and cheers rose from the other patrons.
Bernice’s cheeks reddened. “It’s time to go, Sara. I want to go home.”
The little waitress grinned. “Don’t worry, ma’am. They always clap when they see a birthday cake go by. Should we all sing Happy Birthday?”
Bernice’s eyes filled with horror. “Please, no!”
Sara reached across the table for her mother’s hand. “It’s okay, Mom. It’s just a little cake. No big deal.”
“No? You don’t think so? What do you think people say behind my back when I go downtown? What happens when we stand up to leave and they see who I am?”
“They see a woman who has lived here all her life, who went to school with their parents and raised her family the best she could,” Sara said quietly. “They see a woman who handled tragedy with a lot of dignity. You don’t need to hide yourself away, Mom. Not anymore.”
Her eyes filled with unshed tears, Bernice whispered harshly. “You have never understood, Sara. All these years you’ve tried to make it all sound so simple, but you were just a child back then and you haven’t lived here for a long time.”
“But, Mom—”
“No. The man I loved betrayed us all, then took the coward’s way out and left us destitute.” Anger glittered in her eyes. “Do you have any idea how hard that was? What I went through? This town turned against us then, and I have no use for any of them now. Take me home!”
* * * *
AFTER AN HOUR at her mother’s house, the atmosphere between them was still cool. Sara gave Bernice the gifts and served the cake she’d brought from the restaurant, then wished her mother goodnight and left. So much for renewed bonds. At this rate I’ll be lucky if she’s speaking to me when it’s time to head for Dallas.
At least Harold was happy to see her when she got home. He’d become accustomed to their late-night outings, and by ten o’clock he started whining at the apartment door.
Sara paced the kitchen, waiting for her cell phone to ring. She’d checked in earlier with Allen Larson, but he hadn’t left any messages. Where was her DEA contact? Why didn’t he call?
She couldn’t ask for local backup—not yet. Not until she knew without a doubt that Nathan had no connections to anyone involved in the suspected drug shipments.
But meeting Earl at midnight without backup would be a very stupid thing to do. She could handle Earl, but Leon was another story. If he caught her by surprise from behind, she could be in trouble—especially in the secluded place Earl had chosen.
The park was a block-square patch of scrub grass down by the trailer court. A few trees, a single scarred picnic table, and a set of swings hardly made the area a nice place for kids to play, and the overgrown lilacs rimming the south and east sides effectively isolated the area from any watchful eyes.
“Ring,” she muttered, eyeing the phone as she paced the small room.
Maybe Earl did plan to meet her alone. Maybe he had an old grudge against the owner of Sanderson and held important information.
But in the note, he’d warned her not to come back to his place again. Did he fear being discovered? And why was he so sure Sara would be interested in whatever information he had?
Could he be working for the other side? Maybe he’d seen her spying and had been told to dispose of her.
