In Harm's Way by Lyn Stone Read Free Book Online Page A

don’t believe this was what he was looking for, do you?”
    She surveyed the pile of stuff. “The CD, you think? What could anyone possibly want with that?”
    â€œYour husband wanted it badly enough to have you bring it all the way from New York instead of mailing it.”
    â€œMaybe you’re right,” she admitted, meeting his gaze. She shoved it toward him. “You take it. Keep it.”
    â€œNo,” he said, returning it to her. “Hang on to it until we can have a look at what’s on it.”
    Mabel returned from the ladies’ room, obviously relieved that Mitch was still around. “Be just a minute,” she said, pushing through the door to the kitchen. “I’ll get that coffee carafe.”
    Robin exhaled and rested her forehead on her hand. “Could we leave, please?”
    â€œNo, not yet. We still have to eat, and I don’t think Mabel’sup to winging it with only ol’ Beaner in the back for company. We’d better hang around until Bill and Eddie come back or send word that they caught the bad boys.”
    Robin resigned herself. “Somehow I always thought of Nashville as a rather tranquil city full of musicians.”
    He laughed. “If that were the case, I’d be playing backup guitar and bemoaning the fact that I can’t sing.”
    â€œYou can’t sing?” she asked, eager for any diversion.
    â€œWell, I can, but you wouldn’t want to hear it. Trust me.”
    There it was again. Maybe it was only a figure of speech, his saying that so often. If someone was after James’s disk and was willing to go after it with guns, she knew she had to trust someone. Mitch Winton certainly seemed the likeliest candidate in town.
    Â 
    Dawn was about to break when they were finally able to leave the diner. Mitch kept stealing glances at Robin, wondering when she would crash. She seemed to have gotten her second wind by the time Bill and Eddie had come back to interview them about the supposed robbery. The poor girl must have had it up to her ears with cops by this time.
    She had separated the miniblinds with one finger and was looking out the window now, probably marveling at how hospitable Nashville and its occupants had been to her since her arrival.
    â€œWhy didn’t you tell the officers your theory about the disk?” she asked, breaking the silence.
    He turned onto the off-ramp leading to his neighborhood. “Because it’s only that. A theory. Besides, they would have wanted to take it with them, see what was on it.” He smiled. “I thought we might do that.”
    She remained quiet then, so he turned on the radio. “Fiddle with the stations there and see what you can find,” he suggested, really wanting to see what she would settle on. Her taste in music might tell him a little more about her. Was she really as highbrow as she looked, or was there a closet blues fan inside that slick exterior?
    She parked it on the local news, listening intently. When the newscast was over and no mention was made of her husband’s murder, she clicked the radio off. A small frown marred her almost perfect features.
    They were almost perfect, but not quite. Mitch had noted, a little belatedly, that her chin was a shade too prominent, gave her an almost haughty look. Her nose would have been cuter, would have made her more appealing and approachable, if it had tilted up just slightly, but it was straight as a die. Too aristocratic. Looked as if it had been straightened on purpose.
    That made him wonder if she really had enhanced herself with surgery anywhere. Her breasts looked smallish and were probably real. She said she had modeled and small was necessary with braless fashions, he guessed. She might not be absolutely perfect but came a little too close to it for Mitch to believe it was all real. Oh well, models had to use what they had and improve it if they could, he reckoned. It was a business,