sign on with the FBI.”
“Deputy Scott told us that until further notice the cabin at the camp was considered a crime scene. He said it had been cordoned off.”
“With bright yellow tape.”
“Which you ignored.”
“Did you know that dogs are color-blind? Frito didn’t realize it was crime scene tape. He charged right past it. I had to go get him.”
“Even though he immediately responds to hand gestures, verbal commands, and whistles?”
A weighty silence yawned between them. He knew he’d been caught.
Chapter Eight
H e was pudgy and pink.
No two ways about it, George Robson thought.
The full-length, well-lighted three-way mirror in his bathroom unmercifully revealed all his physical flaws. He didn’t like what he saw. Each day it seemed there was less hair growing on his head and more on his back. His breasts sagged, his stomach was flabby. Beneath it, his penis looked no bigger than a thumb.
Less time on the golf course and more time in a gym would help the pecs and abs. There wasn’t much he could do about the other. That was what had him worried. He had a beautiful, young wife to satisfy, and unfortunately, this was the equipment he had to do it with.
Modestly, he put on a pair of undershorts before joining Lila in the bedroom. She was propped up in bed looking through one of her fashion magazines. He crawled in beside her. “You’re prettier than any of the models in that magazine.” He wasn’t just saying so. In his estimation it was true. Lila was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
“Hm.”
“No, really. I mean it.” She was wearing one of the slip-type nightgowns he liked. Short. Skinny straps. One had slid off her shoulder. He reached over and pushed it down farther, then stroked her breast.
She brushed his hand aside. “It’s too hot tonight.”
“Not in here, honey. I set the AC down to sixty-eight, just where you like it.”
“Feels hotter.”
He lay beside her quiescently and let her peruse her magazine without further interruption. He gazed at her face, her lovely hair, that incredible body, and tried to fend off his fear. Was it warranted? He didn’t want to know, but he had to know because not knowing was driving him crazy.
“Nice funeral today,” he remarked, as casually as possible.
Her expression didn’t change. “I almost fell asleep in the church. Bor -ing.”
“Huff threw quite a wake.”
“It was okay.”
“Where’d you disappear to?”
“Disappear to?” She thumbed to another page. “When?”
“There for a while, in the house, I couldn’t find you.”
She looked over at him. “I went to pee.”
“I checked the powder room.”
“There was a line. I went upstairs. Is that all right with you? Or should I have held it until I got home?”
“Don’t get mad, honey. I just—”
“Oh, forget it.” She tossed the magazine to the floor. “It’s too hot to argue over something as stupid as my going to the bathroom.”
She began to fluff the pillows behind her head. She had bought the embroidered silk pillowcases at a specialty shop in New Orleans. They’d cost a freaking fortune. He had hit the ceiling when he discovered the charge on their credit card statement.
“You spent this on pillowcases?” he’d said, incredulously.
She’d told him she would return them, but she had been so unhappy for the next several days, he’d relented and said she could keep the damn things. She had tearfully thanked him and said he was the best husband ever. He had basked in her affection.
“Thank you for going with me today,” he said, laying a hand on the curve of her hip. “It was important that we go.”
“Of course we had to go. You work for them.”
“Safety director is a very important job, you know. I have lots of responsibility, Lila. Without me, the Hoyles—”
“Did you feed the cat?”
“I mixed dry food with canned just like you asked me to. Anyway, my work at the plant is just as vital as what Chris does. Maybe
“Deputy Scott told us that until further notice the cabin at the camp was considered a crime scene. He said it had been cordoned off.”
“With bright yellow tape.”
“Which you ignored.”
“Did you know that dogs are color-blind? Frito didn’t realize it was crime scene tape. He charged right past it. I had to go get him.”
“Even though he immediately responds to hand gestures, verbal commands, and whistles?”
A weighty silence yawned between them. He knew he’d been caught.
Chapter Eight
H e was pudgy and pink.
No two ways about it, George Robson thought.
The full-length, well-lighted three-way mirror in his bathroom unmercifully revealed all his physical flaws. He didn’t like what he saw. Each day it seemed there was less hair growing on his head and more on his back. His breasts sagged, his stomach was flabby. Beneath it, his penis looked no bigger than a thumb.
Less time on the golf course and more time in a gym would help the pecs and abs. There wasn’t much he could do about the other. That was what had him worried. He had a beautiful, young wife to satisfy, and unfortunately, this was the equipment he had to do it with.
Modestly, he put on a pair of undershorts before joining Lila in the bedroom. She was propped up in bed looking through one of her fashion magazines. He crawled in beside her. “You’re prettier than any of the models in that magazine.” He wasn’t just saying so. In his estimation it was true. Lila was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
“Hm.”
“No, really. I mean it.” She was wearing one of the slip-type nightgowns he liked. Short. Skinny straps. One had slid off her shoulder. He reached over and pushed it down farther, then stroked her breast.
She brushed his hand aside. “It’s too hot tonight.”
“Not in here, honey. I set the AC down to sixty-eight, just where you like it.”
“Feels hotter.”
He lay beside her quiescently and let her peruse her magazine without further interruption. He gazed at her face, her lovely hair, that incredible body, and tried to fend off his fear. Was it warranted? He didn’t want to know, but he had to know because not knowing was driving him crazy.
“Nice funeral today,” he remarked, as casually as possible.
Her expression didn’t change. “I almost fell asleep in the church. Bor -ing.”
“Huff threw quite a wake.”
“It was okay.”
“Where’d you disappear to?”
“Disappear to?” She thumbed to another page. “When?”
“There for a while, in the house, I couldn’t find you.”
She looked over at him. “I went to pee.”
“I checked the powder room.”
“There was a line. I went upstairs. Is that all right with you? Or should I have held it until I got home?”
“Don’t get mad, honey. I just—”
“Oh, forget it.” She tossed the magazine to the floor. “It’s too hot to argue over something as stupid as my going to the bathroom.”
She began to fluff the pillows behind her head. She had bought the embroidered silk pillowcases at a specialty shop in New Orleans. They’d cost a freaking fortune. He had hit the ceiling when he discovered the charge on their credit card statement.
“You spent this on pillowcases?” he’d said, incredulously.
She’d told him she would return them, but she had been so unhappy for the next several days, he’d relented and said she could keep the damn things. She had tearfully thanked him and said he was the best husband ever. He had basked in her affection.
“Thank you for going with me today,” he said, laying a hand on the curve of her hip. “It was important that we go.”
“Of course we had to go. You work for them.”
“Safety director is a very important job, you know. I have lots of responsibility, Lila. Without me, the Hoyles—”
“Did you feed the cat?”
“I mixed dry food with canned just like you asked me to. Anyway, my work at the plant is just as vital as what Chris does. Maybe
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