if he doesn’t screw up.”
He stared around the room, a faraway look in his eyes. “So, yeah, The Crooked Spruce used to be a Boy Scout camp, but here’s some irony for you that came out in the trial. The guy who popped me was once an eagle scout. Had more medals than a five-star general. Guess you never can tell about people.”
She didn’t know how to respond. It was a crazy bit of irony.
He could have gone into the kitchen, but instead he held up one finger. “One more thing.”
“Yeah?”
“You got anything against kids?”
“Of course not. Why?”
“My ten-year-old son’s due back tomorrow. He’s been staying with my sister over spring break from school. He’s a good boy. Quiet. Won’t bother you too much.”
“I don’t have a problem with that...if I’m still around when he gets here.”
“Okay, then. We’ll talk more in the morning.”
Dorie looked at the door after Bret had closed it. Questions flooded her mind. How did a ten-year-old like living on this mountain? Where was the boy’s mother? What kind of a father was Bret? She came to the same conclusion she often did about children who lived with only one parent. They were luckier than those who had none at all.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.
