Pearl Cove by Elizabeth Lowell Read Free Book Online Page B

needed to survive.
    Her hands fumbled as she reached into the refrigerator for fresh fruit and cheese and the
     roast beef Christian Flynn had brought to her. Every movement was an effort. She was
     caught between the nightmare of the past and the one in the present. But she wasnt
     terrified anymore. Smiling or not, Archer was here, bringing with him a sense of safety
     that was dizzying.
    A chunk of cheddar banged against one of the metal racks and thumped to the floor.
     Silently she cursed her clumsiness and reached for the cheese.
    It wasnt there. Archer had already picked it up. He had moved so quickly, so silently, she
     hadnt even suspected he was that close to her. Her fingers shook as she teetered on the
     edge of her strength and self-control.
    Unless youre planning to eat off the floor, he said, scooping up everything she held in
     her hands, I d better take this stuff.
    Im all right. Just-
    Swaying like a tree in a hurricane, he cut in impatiently. Sit down before you fall down.
     When was the last time you ate?
    She closed her eyes, then opened them instantly. She didnt like the images that lurked in
     darkness, waiting to be played on the back of her eyelids: Lens body, wasted legs trailing
     in the water like ribbons, one fist clenched around the murder weapon.
    Yet nobody had mentioned murder. Not when his body was found. Not afterward. They talked
     about the storm and freak accidents, and they watched her when they thought she wouldnt
     notice.
    Hannah made a low sound and swayed again. Without warning strong hands closed over her
     arms, supporting her before she even knew she was falling.
    When was the last time you slept? Archer asked, remembering what she had said on the
     phone. Im
    getting... sleepy.
    Im fine, she said, her jaw clenched.
    And Im the Easter Bunny. Sit down.
    The back of a chair pushed against Hannahs knees. Hard. They buckled and she sat. Archer
     shifted his hands and held her upright until he was sure that she could do the job
     herself. Only then did he turn back to the food he had put on the table when she went into
     her exhausted trance.
    When was the last time you slept? he asked. And I mean real sleep, not catnaps. I havent
     slept, really slept, since I saw the broken oyster shell buried in Lens chest.

Donovans 3 - Pearl Cove
    Four
    Archers hands hesitated for an instant before he resumed making lunch. He had wondered how
     Len died. Now he knew, for all the good it would do Len or himself. He wanted to ask more
     questions, to know the cause of the shattered darkness in Hannahs eyes, but he knew better
     than to bring up the subject. She was on the edge of falling apart. He needed her strong.
    What do you usually drink with lunch? he asked.
    Iced tea.
    He went back to the refrigerator, bypassed the bottles of beer, and grabbed a pitcher of
     tea. A few minutes of rummaging in the cupboards produced glasses and plates. Silverware
     was in a nearby drawer. Even the butter knives were lethally sharp. Lens touch, no doubt.
     Years ago he had never been happy with less than three weapons strapped to various parts
     of his body. If that wasnt enough, he had always had a gift for turning ordinary things
     into deadly tools.
    Archer wondered if an oyster shell had been one of them. He didnt ask. A sideways glance
     told him Hannah was in one of her waking trances again, hanging on to consciousness by her
     force of will. She had had that same will when he met her ten years ago a beautiful,
     innocent teenager determined to escape from a stifling existence of living, working, and
     sharing cooking pots with the monkey-eating Yanomami of Brazil.
    The determination, the smoky-husky voice, and the indigo mystery of her eyes were the only
     links Archer could see between the teenager of his memories and the shocky, exhausted
     woman who was sitting at the table, swaying like grass in a long, slow wind.
    Silently Archer sliced fruit, cheese, and beef that