Cold Target by Patricia; Potter Page B

Charles.”
    But Charles wasn’t sure he could do that. He had guided her for twenty-five years and then she had started to turn against him. She said it wasn’t against him, but for her. He hadn’t accepted it then. He still didn’t accept it.
    The silence must have spoken loudly.
    â€œI mean it, Charles. I cannot guarantee her safety if she continues to meddle in this.”
    Charles exploded. “It’s your damn fault. If you hadn’t …”
    â€œHadn’t what, Charles?” came the silky smooth voice.
    â€œI wish to hell I had never agreed to your bargain.”
    â€œBut you did, didn’t you? And now, if you want your daughter to remain well and happy, you know what you must do. We gave you time last night. Use it.”
    The receiver went dead.
    He slowly replaced it in the cradle.
    The sins of his past wouldn’t go away.
    Somehow he had to stop Meredith.
    If he didn’t, he knew someone else would.
    B ISBEE
    If Holly hadn’t been worried about making mistakes and even more so that Harry would, she would have enjoyed the evening.
    She’d never attended a party in blue jeans and a casual shirt before. Yes, there had been barbecues, but they had usually been big, elaborate affairs or small, intimate fund-raising events. Both called for expensive, elegant clothing.
    Neither her father nor her husband had ever had neighbors over for hot dogs and hamburgers.
    She felt herself relaxing for the first time since she’d left her home. The first time in years. In addition to Harry and herself, she counted ten adults, four children and four dogs. But people came and went, wandering at will into the house set high on the hill. Tubs of iced beer sat on the porch.
    She tried to remember names, and was fairly good at it. It was one of the requirements of a politician’s wife and she had been a good student.
    One of the women was a painter, another a sculptor. Both were accompanied by husbands, one of whom wore a long gray braid. There was an older man who was a guide for city sightseeing trips, and a bearded man who had once worked as a miner and now conducted tours in the now closed mines. Russ, a man who looked to be in his late forties, was a rancher. Julie, the woman from the animal shelter, was accompanied by a teacher at the high school. And there was, of course, her hostess, Marty.
    It didn’t take long to discover that Marty was a self-appointed matchmaker. Holly had been there only minutes before Marty had asked her to join Russ in cooking the hamburgers on one of two grills.
    â€œWhat brings you to Bisbee?” Russ asked as she carefully followed his directions on moving the hamburgers from the center of the grill to the side.
    â€œAn article in a magazine. It sounded like a good place to raise a child.”
    He glanced at where Harry was happily entertaining three dogs. An amused look came over his face. “He likes animals.”
    â€œHe loves animals,” she corrected. “He never had a chance—” She caught herself saying too much. She had to watch that.
    He looked at her, waiting for her to finish.
    â€œWe lived in an apartment in a large city. Having a pet wasn’t practical.”
    â€œWhat city?”
    â€œChicago,” she said, wishing that lying came easier to her. She was sure everyone present saw a big L on her shirt.
    â€œMarty said you were a widow. I’m sorry.”
    He didn’t look sorry at all. He looked interested, and she could not return that interest. She was still married. Not only that, but her trust in men had reached an all-time low. Most important, she had a past she couldn’t share. Perhaps he was just being polite. She’d thought her now mousy brown hair and store-bought glasses would quell any interest.
    â€œThank you,” she said. “It wasn’t very long ago.” She hoped he would get the message.
    â€œHow long ago?”
    How long ago? Marty had