Comeback (Gun Pedersen Book 1) Read Online Free PDF

heard people say this before about you, Gun, but up till now I never wanted to believe it.”
    “What’s that?”
    “You don’t know the meaning of loyalty. You watch out for the big slugger, numero uno, and to hell with the rest of the crowd. Guess your wife could have said something about that.”
    Gun felt like a man who’s been dealt a punishing blow to the gut. He took a deep breath and blew it out, turned and opened the door. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. She could at that.” He nodded and left.
    That afternoon he drove north as he had planned,
    but the property he was thinking of buying didn’t look nearly as good this time. Partly it was the rain that had moved in. It came down hard and steady and smelled like fish. The air was still, not a trace of wind, and everywhere Gun looked he saw the same miserable gray concoction of heavy weather he was feeling inside.
    He missed his appointment with the realtor on purpose and drove on home. That night he went to bed early and dreamed about things he couldn’t remember the next morning. All he knew was he hadn’t gotten much rest. He had to unwrap himself from the twisted bedsheets.

5
    Next morning. Cool sun. Gun was toweling down after his swim, dripping all over the kitchen floor, when someone rapped three quick beats on the door.
    “Come in.”
    “Mr. Pedersen?” The door opened and a woman stepped in, no one he knew. She wore black jeans, long ones, and black pumps that bared tan ankles to the chill of morning. She had black bangs with a few gray strands scattered over her forehead, and lake- green eyes Gun found himself wanting to look good for her.
    “Sorry about the longjohns,” he said.
    She smiled, an easy tropical smile, then turned it down some and said, “I’m Carol Long. Your daughter’s been watching my place for me.”
    “Yes.” Gun shoved his wet hair back with his fingers, and a cold cup of Stony Lake ran down his spine. He looked at Carol Long’s relentless legs and
    attempted rational thought. “Yes. Mazy’s mentioned you. You met at that reporters’ thing in Minneapolis.”
    “The symposium, right.” The smile left and a little fluster came into her voice. “Mazy’s not here.”
    “She should be?”
    “I was hoping so. I couldn’t get back last night, so I called her, asked her to stay on an extra day. I pulled in half an hour ago, and she’s gone. Thought she might be over here.”
    Gun finished with the towel and pointed to the stove. “There’s coffee. Mind if I put some clothes on?”
    “If you must.” The smile made a fleeting comeback.
    He went to the bedroom and wondered what she was doing, coming out here like this. Not even eight in the morning. Must be something important if she was in such a hurry to find Mazy. There were nerves in her voice. Nothing nervous about the way she moved, though, Sweet Heaven no. Gun wondered if she knew how she looked to him; those slim black jeans, that smile, probably she did. He wondered how he looked to her, a man edging past the middle years, in goosebumps and soaking longies. Hair still thick but going white before its time. He shut it from his mind and found gray wool socks, jeans, a red wool shirt. It was cool in the house, even with Carol Long there.
    She was at the kitchen table ignoring a cup of coffee and nibbling at a silver-set emerald on her left hand. Gun poured and sat down.
    “Now,” he smiled, “what’s so important you’ve got to come chasing my girl before breakfast gets cold?”
    “Mr. Pedersen, it’s not that. Listen. She was sup posed to stay at my house through today. We talked about it. Now I drive in, early, she’s nowhere in sight. There’s her typewriter, even some notes lying next to it, a blank sheet rolled in. Her car’s in the drive. But she’s not there.”
    “She runs in the mornings sometimes,” Gun said. “Two, three miles, farther once in a while.”
    Carol Long cleared her throat. Her eyes met Gun’s and he saw a spark of