The Last Honest Woman Read Online Free PDF Page A

crack, then a tiny bit wider. He tensed and waited, though it appeared as though he simply continued to unpack. He saw two eyes in the mirror one above the other. Moving to the dresser, he beard the sound of nervous breathing. When the door opened a bit wider, he saw small fingers wrap around the edge.
    "He looks like a robber." Ben said in a piercing whisper, hardly able to contain the excitement. "He's got shifty eyes."
    "Do you think he's got a gun?"
    "Probably a whole arsenal." Wildly pleased, Ben followed Dylan's movements around the room. "He's going to the closet," he whispered frantically. "Be quiet."
    The words were hardly out of his mouth when the door was yanked open. The two boys tumbled into the room.
    Sprawled on the carpet, Chris looked up at the man's face, which seemed miles above his. His bottom Up poked out, but his eyes were dry. "You can't have my trucks." He was ready to yell frantically for his mother at a moment's notice.
    "Okay." Amused, Dylan crouched down until they were almost eye-to-eye. "Maybe I could see them sometime."
    Chris's eyes darted back to his brother. "Maybe. Are you a robber?"
    "Chris!" Mortified, Ben struggled to untangle himself from his brother and stand. "He's just a kid."
    "Am not. I'm six."
    "Six." Dylan struggled to look suitably impressed. "And you?"
    "I'm eight." Ben's conscience tugged at him. "Well I will be pretty soon. Mom thinks you're a writer."
    "Sometimes I think so, too." A good-looking boy, Dylan decided, and with such an eager gleam of curiosity in his eyes he was hard to resist. "I'm Dylan." He held out his hand and waited while Ben pondered.
    "I'm Ben." He took Dylan's hand, appreciating the man-to-man offer. "This is Chris."
    "Nice to meet you." Dylan offered his hand to Chris. With a sheepishly pleased smile, he took it.
    "We thought your car was neat."
    "It has its moments."
    "Ben said it probably goes two hundred miles an hour."
    "It might." Unable to resist, he ruffled the boy's hair. "I don't."
    Chris grinned. He liked the way the man smelled, so different from his mom. "My mom said we weren't supposed to disturb you."
    "Did she?" Dylan set the boy on his feet, then rose himself. "I'll let you know when you do."
    Accepting the words at face value, Chris climbed onto the bed and chattered while Dylan unpacked. Ben held back, saying little and watching everything.
    Doesn't trust easily, Dylan thought. Though he agreed with the sentiment, he thought it was a pity to find it in such a small boy. The little one was a crackerjack, and one who'd believe whatever tumbled out of your mouth. It would pay to watch what you said.
    Chris watched as Dylan pulled out a carton of cigarettes. "Mom says those are a duty habit."
    Dylan tossed them into a dresser drawer. "Moms are pretty smart."
    "Do you like dirty habits?"
    "I…" Dylan decided to let that one ride. "Why don't you hand me that camera?"
    Willing to please, Chris drew the compact 35-millimeter out of the case. He held it for just a moment, eyeing the knobs. "It's pretty neat."
    "Thanks."
    "You going to take our picture?"
    "I just might." As he set in on the dresser, Dylan glanced in the mirror and saw Ben poking gingerly at his tape recorder. "Interested?"
    Caught, Ben snatched his hands back. "Spies use these."
    "So I've heard. Got any around here?"
    Ben sent him a quietly measuring look he wouldn't have expected from a boy twice his age. "Maybe."
    "We thought Mr. Petrie who helps with the horses was a spy for awhile." Chris looked in the suitcase to see if there was anything else interesting. "But he wasn't."
    "You have horses?"
    "We got a bunch of them."
    "What kind?"
    Chris shrugged. "Mostly big ones."
    "You're such a dope," Ben said. "They're Morgans. One day I'm going to ride Thunder, that's the stallion." As he spoke, the caution in his eyes vanished, to be replaced by enthusiasm. "He's the best there is."
    So this was the key to the boy, Dylan mused, that someone could turn if he cared to. "I had a