The Gingerbread Man Read Online Free PDF Page B

in it would scurry to his hole. The sheriff would probably run Vince out on a rail. So he wouldn’t mention it. He had his cover story ready. He’d had time to think about it on the drive down here. “This guy stole a car, went joyriding, and wrecked it. If the heap hadn’t belonged to a judge’s son, I wouldn’t even be bothering with this.” He lied as smoothly as a politician, he thought. And yet something flickered in the chief’s eyes. Was that a hint of suspicion behind the friendly smile? Had there been the slightest narrowing of those worry-free eyes? No. Not now, at least. If there had been such a flash, it was gone fast. “I tried to talk to Ms. Baker, over at the library, last night, but she wasn’t too inclined to help me out. And it’s not as if I have a warrant or anything, so I didn’t push. Like I said, I just figured as long as I was in town...” He left the words hanging in the air.
    The chief’s feet came down with a thump and he sat up in his chair. “Local folks around Dilmun are a little bit wary of strangers. Oh, they don’t mind the tourists much—but they don’t mix with ’em, either.”
    “I see.”
    “Tell you what. You give me the title of that overdue library book, and I’ll get the information for you—that is, if the library even has a record of the book being missing.” He reached for a pen, held it poised and sent Vince a questioning look.
    “It was a children’s book. The Gingerbread Man.”
    The chief blinked. “You’re joking.”
    “Nope.” Vince shrugged. “I told it you it was a long-shot.”
    He looked at Vince for a long moment, then his face split in a huge grin. His hands slapped the desk. Gusts of laughter burst from him, and Vince wasn’t sure, but he thought the man’s eyes began to water. “That must be one badass car thief,” he gasped, between bouts of hilarity, “with readin’ material like that!”
    Vince smiled, too, shaking his head as if he found it all just as funny. “Well, we found the book in the vehicle, and it didn’t belong to the owner. So we figured...” Vince lifted his hands expressively.
    The chief got his laughter under control, wiped at his eyes, drew a steadying breath.
    “I don’t plan to worry too much one way or the other,” Vince told him. “I’m gonna laze around the cabin and look out at the lake, and anything more strenuous than that will have to wait till my vacation time is used up.”
    Grinning broadly, the chief nodded. “I hear that. So you rented one of Marty Cantrell’s cabins, did you?”
    “Sure did. It’s gorgeous out there.”
    “Fishing’s not bad, either.”
    “No?”
    The door opened and the redhead walked in with the pot of coffee. She reached up to the shelf behind the door to take down two real coffee mugs—no foam cups for the chief of police around here—and, setting them on the desk, began to pour. “Must be something pretty funny going on in here,” she said as she filled the mugs. Her gaze slid over Vince’s face, seemed to catch on his eyes before she managed to jerk it free.
    “Detective O’Mally is looking for someone with an overdue library book,” the chief said, laughter still in his voice.
    She lifted her brows. “Really?” She sent him a glance that was almost teasing. He found he liked it on her far better than the irritated expression that was all he’d managed to induce in her earlier. “They must think very highly of you at S.P.D. to send you out here on such a delicate case.”
    He gave her a smirk. She only smirked back.
    “You haven’t heard the best part yet,” the chief went on. “This must be one hardened criminal he’s after. The missing book—it’s The Gingerbread Man. ”
    Vince saw something change in her face. Like the light in her eyes just blinked out, or some kind of shade came crashing down to block it out. Her cheeks paled.
    “‘Run, run, run, as fast as you can. You can’t catch me, I’m the gingerbread man,’ ” Chief Mallory