Within Striking Distance by Ingrid Weaver Read Free Book Online Page B

knows about nutrition and got me to change my habits before it was too late.”
    “Uh-huh. I heard that too much whole wheat can give you uncontrollable urges to watch the Shopping Channel.”
    “You know what your trouble is? You need a woman of your own to take care of you.”
    Naturally, an image of Becky munching on her salad stole into Jake’s mind at that comment. “Nope,” he mumbled around another bite of hot dog. “Not in the market.”
    “Hey, Jake.” Lurleen, who worked the lunch shift at Edna’sdiner on weekdays, paused beside their booth with her carafe in hand. “Do you want a refill on that coffee?”
    “Sure. Thanks.”
    She smiled, brushing his shoulder as she leaned over to pour, then looked at Len. “How are you doing on that milk? Need a refill?”
    “No, I’m good.”
    “Okay, then. Let me know when you’re ready for dessert. We’ve got pecan pie, Jake. Your favorite.”
    Len watched Lurleen as she moved away, her hips swishing beneath her pink uniform. “I think she likes you.”
    Jake had been aware of Lurleen’s interest for months. She was an attractive woman, but he had no intention of dating her and potentially messing up a good thing. This diner was his favorite place to eat, and he was more concerned about getting food here than getting companionship.
    Yet if he did decide to date someone, a woman like Lurleen would be a more sensible choice than a woman like Becky. She was closer to his age. She was good-looking, but not a knockout, so she didn’t addle his wits whenever she was around. The memory of her face didn’t pop into his mind without warning to distract him the way Becky’s had been doing. Lurleen didn’t stir up his protective instincts or haunt his thoughts or…
    Or interest him in the least.
    “Sure, she likes me,” Jake said. “I’m a good tipper. You going to eat that pickle?”
    “No. Do you realize how much salt is in one of those things?”
    Jake plucked the pickle off Len’s plate and crunched into it, then slid his plate aside to clear a spot on the table. “Okay, do you have anything else to give me besides tips about better living through fiber?”
    Len popped the last of his sandwich into his mouth,wiped his fingers on a paper napkin and reached into his sport coat. He withdrew a long, buff-colored envelope and tossed it in front of Jake. “Don’t laugh. This paper is probably better for you than that hot dog.”
    “Thanks, Len. I owe you one.”
    “You bet you do. I’ve got a tally going.”
    Jake waited until Len left before he opened the envelope that his friend had given him. Inside was a printout of Peters’s arrest record. Jake unfolded the papers and leaned his back into the corner of the booth as he studied them.
    He’d been acting on a hunch when he’d decided to pursue the possibility that Floyd Peters was no stranger to the law. There had been something about Floyd’s tone, the hint of guilty conscience, that had made Jake wonder how much practice he’d had avoiding questions. His hunch had been right.
    There were no recent arrests—all had occurred before he started working with NASCAR. Floyd’s first arrest had been at nineteen. Auto theft. The charge had been dismissed after another boy had confessed that he’d done the hot-wiring and Floyd had just been along for the ride.
    The next arrest had been for vandalism, but that charge had been dropped, too, without getting to trial for lack of evidence. The third arrest had been more serious. It had been for assault.
    Jake shuffled the papers until he found the notes Len had made for him. The assault had taken place at a bar in Charlotte, and had been more of a mutual slugfest than an attack, from the sound of it. Floyd hadn’t thrown the first punch, either. He’d been defending himself and his girlfriend from a group of bikers.
    Peters had been a hotheaded kid, Jake thought. A little on the wild side, but none of the arrests pointed to a habitual criminal nature. There