Thread of Deceit by Catherine Palmer

me talk to them in Spanish. I’d have told them everything is going to be okay, and that they’re going to get new parents who will love them and take care of them. Are they sisters, do you suppose? And will they go to the same home? It bothers me.”
    “I’ll tell you what gets me. Jim’s secret window for adoptive parents. Like they’re picking out a puppy.”
    “His heart is in the right place, though.” Her voice was soft as she nursed the car through the evening traffic.
    “True. Sounds like he runs a gauntlet every time he brings kids to the States.”
    “He’s a wonderful man,” she said.
    “And how ’bout that Chatty Cathy collection?”
    Ana laughed as she pulled into a parking space near Haven. “Give poor Jim a break. He’s lonely. He lost his wife, and his daughters are grown and gone. Let him collect dolls if he wants to.”
    “I’d feel better if he collected Tonka trucks.”
    “Jim’s obviously a shrewd businessman. You don’t live in Ladue unless you know how to manage money. I have no doubt that dolls are a better investment than toy trucks.”
    Sam let his focus rest on Ana as she put the car in Park. He knew their time together was over, and he needed to get back and help Terell shut down the center. But he couldn’t deny how good it felt to be near a woman again. And not just any woman.
    Ana Burns made a great sparring partner. Sam found her ideas interesting and her personality more than a little intriguing. He hadn’t had time for a relationship when he was in the Marines, nor had he made time for one since. Now—in the midst of his battle to keep Haven open—he couldn’t let himself think in that direction.
    “Sam, may I come back and interview the kids at Haven?” Ana asked. The streetlight bronzed her skin and lit her brown eyes with a golden glow. “I’d like to get some quotes from your volunteers, too. It would round out my series.”
    “I’m not comfortable with this, Ana. You know that. Neither was Jim.”
    “Please, Sam. Let me come back to the center. Maybe I can get more information out of Flora. If she starts to feel comfortable, you might get her to join in the activities.”
    “Ana, I appreciate your concern for Flora and your interest in Haven,” he said. “But I don’t want the center by name in the newspaper. The less you say about us the better.”
    Her lips tightened. “You don’t trust me to write a positive story. You’re afraid you’ll lose your donations, aren’t you? For you, this is all about money.”
    “ Money? What do you think Haven is, woman? It’s nothing like Jim Slater’s grand palace, that’s for sure. You didn’t have any problem praising him to high heaven, but you accuse me of moneygrubbing?” Angry now, he opened the car door. “I don’t have spare cash to spend on fat-winged babies and doll collections. I need to keep my donors happy if I want Haven’s doors to stay open. And that means no newspaper articles.”
    “You don’t even know what I’m going to write. Give me a little credit. I could slant this story in your favor. Trust me, Sam.”
    “Trust a woman who accuses me of being in this for the money?” He climbed out of the car and slammed the door. “You want to know what I’m all about, Ana? Open your eyes. I’m here for these kids.”
    As he strode down the sidewalk, Ana’s car kept pace. “I can come back to Haven if I want,” she called out to him. “I have the right to talk to anyone, Sam.”
    “No, you don’t,” he shouted back. “Not at Haven. It’s my operation, and you’re not welcome.”
    As her tires squealed down the street, Sam stepped up to the metal detector.
    “Hoo-wee,” Raydell said, shaking his head as he eyed the vanishing car. “You got woman problems. Big-time.”

    “Rod Davidson…how are you this morning, my friend?”
    “Well, what can I tell you? Murders, suicides, drive-by shootings—the usual.”
    He chuckled at the Post-Dispatch publisher’s greeting. “I