Hot Rocks

knock-knock jokes and sung silly songs. He died in front of the shop she’d worked so hard to build, and laid at her door all the memories she thought she’d escaped.
     
     
     
    She was a businesswoman, a solid member of the community, and a fraud. In the back room of her store, she poured two cups of coffee and knew she was about to lie to a man she considered a friend. And deny all knowledge of one she’d loved.
    She did her best to steady herself, ran her hands through the damp mass of bright red hair normally worn in a shoulder-sweeping bob. She was pale, and the rain had washed away the makeup, always carefully applied, so freckles stood out on her narrow nose and across her cheekbones. Her eyes, a bright Viking blue, were glassy with shock and grief. Her mouth, just a hair too wide for her angular face, wanted to tremble.
    In the little giltwood mirror on the wall of her office, she studied her reflection. And saw herself for what she was. Well, she would do what she needed to do to survive. Willy would certainly understand that. Do what came first, she told herself, then think about the rest.
    She sucked in a breath, let out a shudder, then lifted the coffee. Her hands were nearly steady as she went into the main shop and prepared to give false testimony to Angel’s Gap’s chief of police.
    “Sorry it took so long,” she apologized as she carried the mugs to where Vince Burger stood by the little clinker fireplace.
    He was built like a bear with a great shock of white-blond hair that stood nearly straight up, as if surprised to find itself on top of the wide, comfortable face. His eyes, a faded blue and fanned with squint lines, were full of compassion.
    He was Jenny’s husband, and had become a kind of brother to Laine. But for now she reminded herself he was a cop, and everything she’d worked for was on the line.
    “Why don’t you sit down, Laine? You’ve had a bad shock.”
    “I feel sort of numb.” That was true enough, she didn’t have to lie about everything. But she walked over to sip her coffee and stare out at the rain so she wouldn’t have to meet those sympathetic eyes. “I appreciate your coming in to take my statement yourself, Vince. I know you’re busy.”
    “Figured you’d be more comfortable.”
    Better to lie to a friend than a stranger, she thought bitterly. “I don’t know what I can tell you. I didn’t see the actual accident. I heard . . . I heard brakes, screams, an awful thud, then I saw . . .” She didn’t shut her eyes. If she shut them, she’d see it again. “I saw him hit the window, like he’d been thrown against it. I ran out, stayed with him until the paramedics came. They were quick. It seemed like hours, but it was only minutes.”
    “He was in here before the accident.”
    Now she did close her eyes, and prepared to do what she had to do to protect herself. “Yes. I had several customers this morning, which proves I should never give Jenny a day off. The Twins were in, and a couple driving through on their way to D.C. I was busy when he came in. He browsed around for a while.”
    “The woman from out of town said she thought you knew each other.”
    “Really?” Turning now, Laine painted a puzzled expression on her face, as a clever artist might on a portrait. She crossed back, sat on one of the two elbow chairs she’d arranged in front of the fire. “I don’t know why.”
    “An impression,” Vince said with a shrug. Always mindful of his size, he sat, slow and careful, in the matching chair. “Said he took your hand.”
    “Well, we shook hands, and he gave me his card.” Laine pulled it out of her pocket, forced herself to keep her attention on Vince’s face. The fire was crackling with warmth, and though she felt its heat on her skin, she was cold. Very cold. “He said he’d like to speak with me when I wasn’t so busy. That he might have something to sell. People often do,” she added, offering Vince the card. “Which is how I stay in business.”
    “Right.” He tucked the card into his breast pocket. “Anything strike you about him?”
    “Just that he had a beautiful topcoat, and a silly umbrella—and that he didn’t seem like the sort to wander around small towns. Had city on him.”
    “So did you a few years ago. In fact . . .” He narrowed his gaze, reached out and rubbed a thumb over her cheek. “Still got some stuck to you.”
    She laughed, because it’s what he wanted. “I wish I could be more help, Vince.