Plain Threats. Alison StoneЧитать онлайн книгу.
be searching for the right thing to say. “I hope we can be.”
Samuel’s nose twitched as if he were trying to process the scene. Rebecca’s heart pulsed in her ears. She didn’t want to push Samuel away by revealing she had gone to the professor to try to exact information out of him.
Apparently sensing this, the professor spoke up. “I gave your mom a ride home.” An apologetic smile slanted his lips. He had told a lie of omission, obviously leading her son to believe he had given her a ride home from the diner. “Then all this craziness broke out.”
“Oh.” Samuel stared straight ahead, skepticism written on his face. “I’m going to bed.” He stomped up a few stairs before Rebecca called to him.
“Do you know anything about what happened here tonight?”
Samuel stopped without turning around. “How would I know? I wasn’t home.”
Rebecca caught the professor’s eye. Unease twisted her insides, worrying how far she’d push Samuel.
“You must be tired.”
Samuel nodded curtly. “Yah, I’m going upstairs.” Samuel continued his stomp up the stairs like a petulant child. When he reached his room, he hollered down the stairs. “Who was in my room?” He thudded down the stairs, his chest heaving.
“I was in your room.” Rebecca approached the bottom of the stairs. “Where did you get all that stuff?” The walls of the house seemed to sway as she waited for the answer.
Samuel pressed his lips together but didn’t say anything.
Rebecca worried about the consequences of talking in front of the professor, but she was overwhelmed. She couldn’t let this defiance from her son slide a minute longer. “Where did you get the money for a computer?”
A muscle ticked in Samuel’s jaw and suddenly he looked like a man. An angry man. “Stay out of my room,” he spat out.
“Samuel, your mother’s worried about you.” The professor moved next to her, making her feel like for once she wasn’t alone.
“You don’t have to worry.” Samuel ran upstairs and slammed the bedroom door.
Rebecca and the professor exchanged worried looks.
Samuel was definitely hiding something.
The next afternoon at the diner, Rebecca grabbed the whipped cream can she could see through the glass door of the refrigerator and yanked off the cap. Lost in thought she squeezed the trigger on the dispenser and watched the white cream ooze out into a hearty dollop on two pieces of apple pie.
Drawing in a deep breath, she picked up the plates and turned her back to push through the swinging door leading to the dining room. The door swung back with a swoosh on its hinge, and she delivered the two pieces of pie to the elderly couple in the booth by the window.
“Can I get you anything else?” Rebecca asked.
“No, dear,” the older woman said, “thank you.” The couple came in at least once a week and Rebecca couldn’t help but envy the easy way they chatted and held hands over dessert.
As Rebecca retreated to the counter, the elderly gentleman muttered something about how delicious the pie was.
Flo, the waitress on duty with her, pulled the filter basket out of the coffeemaker and turned it upside down over the garbage. With a gentle tap on the edge of the can, the wet coffee filter and used grounds slid into the garbage.
Flo was in her sixties and she was a fixture at the diner as much as shoofly pie and apple butter. People might have thought she was Amish because she wore her long gray hair in a bun at the nape of her neck and her plain gray waitress uniform might have passed for Amish to the average tourist.
But Flo was not Amish. She had English sensibilities and had raised three boys, now grown. She freely shared advice with Rebecca whether she wanted it or not.
Flo spun around, planted her fist on her hip and smiled. “Still worried about Samuel?”
“I...um...” Rebecca muttered, embarrassed that she had been caught daydreaming and not getting her work done. She grabbed the dishtowel from the back counter and wiped down the already clear countertop. There was usually enough going on in the small diner to keep both waitresses hopping, but now just so happened to be the short lull between lunch and dinner.
“Well, I didn’t figure you were staring at me because you forgot how the coffeemaker worked,” Flo said with a funny smile. “What’s on your mind?”
Rebecca twisted the rag in her hands. “I went to see Professor Burke last night.” Rebecca didn’t have many Amish friends of late and she appreciated the friendship of the older woman. Rebecca missed her Amish friends, her family. Her parents had long since moved to an Amish community in Florida for health reasons and her friends had disappeared as Rebecca’s troubles multiplied.
Flo raised a pale eyebrow and regarded Rebecca for a long moment. She was a solid Christian woman, but she had a wicked sense of humor that could make Rebecca blush. That knowledge, coupled with the glint in her eye, had Rebecca bracing herself for the older woman’s reply.
“Professor Burke is a very handsome man.” Flo twisted her lips as if considering something. “Too bad he’s not Amish or you’re not English. You’d make a striking couple.”
Rebecca smoothed a hand across the edge of her bonnet, feeling her cheeks heat. None of her Amish friends spoke this boldly. “It has nothing to do with that. I wanted to talk to him about—”
“You know who he reminds me of?” Flo grabbed a fresh filter and used the orange scoop to put fresh coffee grounds in the coffeemaker.
Leaning her hip against the counter, Rebecca didn’t bother to answer because she knew Flo would get to it in her own sweet time. Before meeting Flo, she had never been around a woman who said whatever was on her mind. The Amish women Rebecca had grown up with were far more reserved.
The older woman snapped the coffee basket back into place and turned to face Rebecca. “You know who I’m talking about, right? Professor Burke reminds me of that really handsome FBI agent who works with that Bones lady.”
Confusion creased Rebecca’s brow. “Excuse me?”
Flo’s face lit up and she laughed, waving her long fingers in front of her. “Sometimes I forget you don’t watch TV.” She shook her head. Flo grew serious and stopped doing busy work, giving Rebecca her full attention. “I’m sorry. Tell me why you went to see Professor Burke.”
Rebecca glanced toward the dining area to make sure no new customers had come in. She didn’t want anyone to overhear. The only patrons were the elderly couple by the window, and they seemed content to chat over their pie and coffee.
“Samuel and some of the other Amish youth meet with Professor Burke for research purposes. I wanted to see if he could help me understand why Samuel has been withdrawn lately.”
“How so? Did he tell you something about Samuel that you didn’t want to hear?”
“No, but when he drove me home—”
“He drove you home?”
“He was being nice.” Rebecca decided to leave the part about being attacked on campus out of the story. “Someone was in my house when I got home.”
“Oh, dear.” Flo leaned forward and cupped Rebecca’s elbow. “Who was it? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Rebecca shook her head. “I don’t know who it was. The intruder ran out the back door. Professor Burke called the sheriff.”
“The sheriff will track him down, I’m sure of it.” Flo tried to buoy Rebecca’s