Drift by Jon McGoran Read Free Book Online Page B

coffee. “So who was that guy, anyway?”
    “Who?”
    “The guy who swiped your chip. Back at Branson’s.”
    She frowned. “Oh, that.”
    For a moment, I regretted reminding her about it.
    “That’s Dwight Cooney.” The way she said it sounded like she was more annoyed at him than me. “He’s harmless. Just a meathead with an underinflated sense of his own repulsiveness.”
    “You got a lot of them out here?”
    She smiled sweetly. “Not just around here.”
    I put my hand against the slight swelling along my cheekbone. “I don’t know if I’d say he’s that harmless, by the way.”
    “No, he is. Annoying, but harmless. Besides, you seemed to be able to handle him without much trouble.” She smiled. “Until you got distracted, that is.”
    I could feel my face warming. “Right.”
    “I suppose I should say thank you for coming to my rescue and all,” she said, reaching over to run her fingertips lightly across my bruised cheek. Apparently, my cheeks are sensitive, too. “But I had the situation under control, so I won’t.”
    She grinned at me as she took her hand away, letting me know she was yanking my chain. I grinned back at her, because I couldn’t help myself.
    If I had been better at that sort of thing, I might have gone in for a kiss. I was still considering it when Moose snuffled loudly and let out a long sigh.
    It was an undeniable cue to call it a night, and a pause hung in the air, waiting for one of us to acknowledge it. Instead, she got up from her chair and sat next to me on the sofa. “So how does someone end up being a cop, anyway?” she asked.
    I smiled. She didn’t want me to leave. She smiled back conspiratorially, like she knew I knew, but she expected me to go along with it.
    I laughed. “By ignoring lots of good career advice.”
    She laughed, too, putting her hand on my knee again, this time leaving it there. Now, my knee is connected directly to my thigh. And I don’t want to get into what my thigh is connected to, but her hand had an effect on me. It might have shown on my face, because she smiled mischievously as she took her hand away.
    “Come on,” she said, “seriously.”
    “Seriously?” I shrugged. “A buddy of mine talked me into going into the police academy with him. He washed out; I didn’t.”
    “Hmmm. The thing is … you don’t seem like a cop.”
    “Yeah, I get that a lot. My lieutenant tells me that all the time.”
    “But you’re a detective, right? So you must be pretty good at it.”
    “That’s where you and my lieutenant differ. But I am pretty good at parts of it.”
    “So what do you have, issues with authority?”
    “You don’t?”
    She shrugged.
    This time, when Moose snorted, he opened his eyes and looked around, confused.
    I looked over at him, and when I looked back at Nola, she was stifling a yawn.
    “I guess it’s that time,” she said, looking at her watch. “And I guess I’ll be picking the tomatoes by myself. I have some other crops to check on as well, so don’t be alarmed if you see me sneaking through your backyard early in the morning.”
    Moose let out a sigh and fell back to sleep. Nola shook her head. “You can leave him here, if you like.”
    “Nah, he’ll be all right,” I said, for some reason not crazy about the idea of Moose spending the night there. I slipped a shoulder under his arm and hoisted him out of the armchair. His eye opened but remained unfocused. “But he’s going to be a mess in the morning.”

 
    14
     
    I got up at seven the next morning, not hungover but tired and unprepared for the horrifying revelation that now there was no coffee at all. I managed to assemble a lukewarm cup of tea that not only confused my metabolism, but I think actually pissed it off.
    I had an appointment with a lawyer to read Frank’s will at nine and an appointment at the funeral home at nine forty-five. I told myself I had gotten up early to get a jump on the day. But I lingered by the kitchen window and