Betrayal by Tim Tigner Read Free Book Online

months.
    The other odd thing about Stuart was that he kept taking pictures of her with Wiley. He explained it away as his hobby, his passion really was how he put it. But Cassi was not convinced. Stuart did not strike her as a passionate man.
    Cassi made an effort to take her mind off analysis and back to the conversation at hand, but it was hopeless. The topics they selected were at once too deep for Sunday brunch and yet too shallow for her mood. What did she think about foreign troop deployment? Was she a defender of the second amendment? When they shifted to a woman’s right to choose she would have choked on the champagne had she not been just pretending to sip. Rather than answer she excused herself to urgent business in the kitchen.
    Since she could not suddenly begin refusing alcohol without provoking the obvious question, Cassi had decided to fake it. At the table she raised the glass to her lips without actually drinking. Then she would surreptitiously soak up half her flute with her napkin and exchange the napkin for a fresh one each time she went to the kitchen. She was pleased with herself for devising such a clever ruse.
    As she returned to the table with warm cinnamon rolls, Stuart turned to watch her approach and said, “I’ve heard of lofts, of course, but I’ve never actually been in one before. How long have you lived here?”
    “I moved in right after graduate school, so I guess that makes it six years.”
    Stuart nodded. “I figured that you had been here a while. I notice that you’ve been watching the kids playing at the daycare center across the street. I get the impression from the emotions crossing your face that you know some of them. Am I right?”
    Stuart was an observant one, Cassi thought. Perhaps he really was an avid photographer. She nodded abstractly to buy herself some time. She did not feel like revealing anything about herself to this guy. On the other hand she did not want the conversation to lapse back into politics either. After pondering her options for a moment, she decided to risk exposing a bit of her soul to Stuart in order to see what Wiley’s reaction would be to her discussion of kids. “Actually I do know them. The red haired one with boots is David. He likes pretending to be tough although he’s really a coward. The girl with the pink glasses on the swing next to him is Rita. She falls down a lot but never cries. The little cutie in the yellow coat hanging from the jungle gym is Sammy. He’s the clown. He uses humor to hide the insecurity he feels because he still wets his pants. The girl by herself on the bench is Sara. She’s not interested in their games. It’s because she’s smarter than the others but the ironic result is that she feels inadequate.” Cassi saw Wiley looking at her with wide eyes and stopped.
    “How do you know them?” He asked.
    She shrugged. “They’re out there every weekend. Sometimes I sit and watch them as I drink my morning tea.”  
    “So how did you learn their names?” Stuart asked.
    “Oh, those aren’t their real names—just the ones I use.”
    “Cassi was a child psychologist before joining the Behavioral Sciences Unit,” Wiley added.
    Cassi faked a sip of champagne to occupy her mouth. When her former career came up, people usually wanted to know why she switched. It was a story she did not like to tell. Stuart seemed to sense that, and did not ask. Instead he inclined his head toward the daycare center and said, “It’s kind of sad if you think about it. They should be spending their weekends with their parents.”
    It was a much more sensitive comment than she would have expected from him, Cassi thought. Perhaps there was a heart beneath Stuart Slider’s dark veneer. As she contemplated that unexpected twist, he refilled their champagne flutes.
    “Speaking of morning tea,” she said, “I’ll go brew some.” Standing, she followed Stuart’s gaze. He was looking at her hand as she reached for her flute and