Night's Landing by Carla Neggers Read Free Book Online Page B

Sarah’s good graces, presumably in an attempt to get access to the president and dig up any dirt he could find—not that she was anyone’s fool. As far as Ethan had seen, so far she hadn’t told Fontaine much more than what kind of mint extract she used in her sweet tea punch.
    He and Ethan were about the same age, but Conroy Fontaine seemed like a throwback to another generation, pre—World War II, maybe even pre—World War I. He was unfailingly polite and tended to dress in penny loafers with no socks, chinos, polo shirts and a retro Timex watch. He wore rimless glasses and his sandy-colored hair was getting thin on top, but he kept himself in decent shape. Nearly every morning, Ethan would see him up on the road jogging what he said was a six-mile route. He must also pump iron, given his muscle mass, but where he did that, Ethan didn’t know or care.
    He opened up the screen door, then remembered his good ol‘ boy act. “What can I do for you, Mr. Fontaine?”
    “I’m sorry to bother you so late. I’ve been working all day on my book. I didn’t have the radio on. I just heard the news—”
    “Yes, sir, it’s an awful situation.”
    Conroy shook his head in obvious despair. He had a broad forehead, a strong jaw—not a bad-looking guy. “It’s
terrible
. Sarah’s gone to New York?”
    “She left a short time after she heard about the shooting.”
    Fontaine took in a breath. “Good heavens. I simply can’t imagine. The FBI just held a press conference—it was carried by all the news channels. Rob Dunnemore’s still in critical condition, but at least he’s stable. He made it out of surgery. Sarah must be beside herself.”
    Ethan noted the familiar way Fontaine talked about Sarah and wondered if they’d struck up a real friendship since she’d arrived back in Night’s Landing. He turned on the tap at the sink and rinsed off his barbecue plate. “She was pretty upset when she left here, Mr. Fontaine.”
    “Understandably. Do you know anything? Anything that’s not on the news? Are the parents flying in from Amsterdam? Will Rob be brought down here to recuperate—”
    “If I knew anything,” Ethan said, turning from the sink, “I don’t believe I’d tell you. No offense, sir, but you’re a reporter. It’s not my job to blab family business to reporters.”
    Conroy’s back stiffened visibly, but he smiled. “No offense taken, but you’re quite wrong about me. If I were the kind of reporter you obviously think I am, I’d be on the phone to CNN right now alerting them to Rob Dunnemore’s connection to the president. But I haven’t done that.”
    “No money in it?”
    “Name recognition. That would help me with my book when it goes to press.” He sighed, his shoulders sagging. “I’ve never been very good at selling myself. My interest is always the story. This book—I’m doing a responsible job on it. I want it to be respectable. The most difficult part…” He trailed off, avoiding Ethan’s eye. “Sarah. I didn’t expect—” He seemed unable to go on.
    “You didn’t expect to want her approval,” Ethan finished for him, then added, matter-of-fact, “She’s a beautiful woman.”
    Fontaine still didn’t look at him. He nodded, embarrassed. “That’s right. I want to do my best work on this book. I’d like her respect. I’ve read her dissertation, and I understand the documentary she just finished is stunning. I can’t compete with that kind of scholarship. Of course, her work doesn’t focus on the president. What I’m doing is quite different.”
    The guy sounded smitten. Ethan got it, but Sarah Dunnemore was sisterlike material as far as he was concerned. “Look, Mr. Fontaine,” he said, “you don’t have to justify yourself to me. What you do is none of my business. I’ll tell Sarah you dropped by and let you know if I hear anything. Fair enough?”
    Fontaine seemed pleased, even relieved. “Thank you. It’s a worrisome situation, isn’t