Page 55 of Life and Death

Her voice was careful. “I think that might be for the best.”

“You’re not going anywhere?” I checked.

“I suppose not, if you’re that opposed.”

Unwillingly, I pulled my hand from hers. It felt like I’d been holding a handful of ice cubes.

“Better?” I asked.

She took a deep breath. “Not really.”

“What is it, Edythe? What’s wrong?”

She almost smiled, but there was no humor in her eyes. “This may come as a surprise to you, Beau, but I have a little bit of a temper. Sometimes it’s hard for me to forgive easily when someone . . . offends me.”

“Did I—”

“Stop, Beau,” she said before I could even get the second word fully out. “I’m not talking about you.” She looked up at me with her eyes wide. “Do you realize that they were serious? That they were actually going tokillyou?”

“Yeah, I kinda figured they were going to try.”

“It’s completely ridiculous!” It seemed like she was working herself up again. “Who gets murdered inPort Angeles? Whatisit with you, Beau? Why does everything deadly come looking foryou?”

I blinked. “I . . . I have no answer for that.”

She tilted her head to one side and pursed her lips, exhaling through her nose. “So I’m not allowed to go teach those thugs a lesson in manners?”

“Um, no. Please?”

She sighed a long, slow sigh, and her eyes closed again. “How disagreeable.”

We sat in silence for a moment while I tried to think of something to say that would make up for . . . I guess, disappointing her? That was what it seemed like—that she was disappointed I was asking her not to go looking for multiple armed gangsters who had . . .offendedher by threatening me. It didn’t make much sense—and even less so when you factored in that she had asked me to stay in the car. She was planning to go on foot? We’d driven miles away.

For the first time since I’d seen her tonight, the word Jules had said popped into my mind.

Her eyes opened at the same moment, and I wondered if she’d somehow known what I was thinking. But she just looked at the clock and sighed again.

“Your friends must be worried about you,” she said.

It was past six-thirty. I was sure she was right.

Without another word, she started the engine and spun the car around. Then we were speeding back toward town. We were under the streetlights in no time at all, still going too fast, weaving easily through the cars slowly cruising the boardwalk. She parallel parked against the curb in a space I would have thought much too small for the Volvo, but she slid in with one try. I looked out the window to see the theater’s brightly lit marquee. Jeremy and Allen were just leaving, pacing away from us.

“How did you know where . . . ?” I started, but then I just shook my head.

“Stop them before I have to track them down, too. I won’t be able to restrain myself if I run into your other friends again.”

It was strange how her silky voice could sound so . . . menacing.

I jumped out of the car but kept my hand on the frame. Like before, holding her here.

“Jer! Allen!” I shouted.

They weren’t very far away. They both turned, and I waved my free arm over my head. They rushed back, the relief on both their faces turning to surprise when they took in the car I was standing next to. Allen stared into the recesses of the car, and then his eyes popped wide in recognition.

“What happened to you?” Jeremy demanded. “We thought you took off.”

“No, I just got lost. And then I ran into Edythe.”