Carolina Moon

Wade’s.” Faith turned to the window and waved cheerfully to Cade. “Oh, he’s steaming. He just hates for me to drive this toy of his.”
    “So naturally you drive it as often as possible.”
    “Naturally. Got anything cold to drink? It’s hot enough to steal your breath out there today.”
    “In the back. Help yourself.”
    “Are you opening today?”
    “No. I don’t want people today. So don’t be offended if I ignore you.”
    “Same goes.”
    Faith slipped into the back room and came back with two bottles of Coke. Tory had the music on low and was busy with glass cleaner and a cloth. “You might as well give me something to do before I do die of boredom.”
    Tory held out the cloth. “You ought to be able to manage this. I have plenty of work in the back. Please don’t let anyone in. If someone comes to the door just tell them we’re closed today.”
    “Fine by me.”
    She shrugged as Tory went into the back, then entertained herself by rearranging stock to her liking, imagining what it would be like to run a shop.
    Entirely too much work, she decided, too much trouble. Though it was fun to be around so many nice things and speculate who would buy what.
    She found the keys for the jewelry case behind the counter and tried on several pairs of earrings, admired a bracelet fashioned out of a coil of silver and tried that on as well.
    When someone knocked on the door, she jumped guiltily, and closed the display.
    She didn’t recognize the faces. The man and woman stood outside the door studying her as she studied them. It was a shame, Faith thought, that Tory wasn’t open. At least customers would be a diversion.
    Faith smiled brightly and tapped the closed sign. The woman held up a badge.
    “Oops.” The FBI, she thought. An even better diversion. She unlocked the door.
    “Miss Bodeen?”
    “No, she’s in the back.” Faith took a moment to size them up. The woman was tall and tough, with short black hair and cool dark eyes. She wore what Faith considered a very unflattering gray suit and dead-ugly shoes.
    The man had more potential, with curling brown hair and a square jaw with a sexy little dent in it. She tried the smile on him and got the faintest glimmer of response. “I’ve never met an FBI agent before. I guess I’m a little flustered.”
    “Would you ask Miss Bodeen to come out?” the woman requested.
    “Of course. Just excuse me for one minute. Y’all wait right here.” She hurried to the stockroom, closed the door behind her. “It’s the FBI.”
    Tory’s head snapped up. “Here?”
    “Right out there. A man and a woman, and nothing like those two on the TV show. He’s not half bad, but she’s wearing a suit I wouldn’t be buried in. She’s a Yankee, too. I don’t know about him. He hasn’t opened his mouth. Ask me, she runs the show.”
    “For God’s sake, what do I care about that?” Tory got to her feet, but her knees were shaking.
    Before she could steady herself, there was a brisk knock on the door, and it opened. “Miss Bodeen?”
    “Yes, I—yes.”
    “I’m Special Agent Tatia Lynn Williams.” The woman showed her badge again. “And this is Special Agent Marks. We need to speak with you.”
    “Have you found my father?”
    “Not at this time. Has he contacted you?”
    “No. I haven’t seen him, or heard from him. He’d know I wouldn’t help him.”
    “We’d like to ask you some questions.” Williams gave Faith a pointed look.
    Instantly Faith scooted behind the desk to wrap an arm around Tory’s shoulder. “This is my brother’s fiancée. I promised him I’d stay with her. I won’t break my word to my brother.”
    Marks took out his notebook, flipped pages. “And you would be?”
    “Faith Lavelle. Tory’s going through a very distressing time. I’m staying with her.”
    “You’re acquainted with Hannibal Bodeen?”
    “I know him. And I believe he killed my sister eighteen years ago.”
    “We have no evidence of that,” Williams said flatly. “Miss Bodeen, when did you last see your mother?”
    “In April. My uncle and I went to see her. I’ve been estranged from my parents for a number of years. I hadn’t seen her since I was twenty, or my father, either. Until he came here, to my shop.”
    “And at that time you were aware he was a fugitive.”
    “Yes.”
    “Yet you gave him money.”
    “He took money,” Tory corrected. “But I’d have given it to him to keep him away from me.”
    “Your father was physically