Read Alibi Creek for Free Online

purse, flinging her jacket on the couch. Graceful, though. He hadn’t remembered that, or maybe she hadn’t yet developed grace at twenty-seven. Her touch had always been light, a caress. When working animals and doing chores, the palms and backs of her hands had stayed soft, her slender fingers tipped with manicured nails. She’d been one to linger in the tub, pamper her body with lotions and scented soaps, color her fine hair platinum blond. Ranch women seldom bothered with cosmetics. Danielle outfittedthe bathroom with a magnifying mirror rimmed with little lights. Tweezers, eyelash curler, liner, mascara, rouge, and lipstick littered the counter around the sink. Colorful ribbons, earrings, and necklaces dangled from hooks. Barrettes and rings filled the medicine cabinet. When she left, the bathroom was what changed most, swept clean of feminine indulgence.
    Maybe it had been worth it, maybe all that plucking, dabbing, and soaking had preserved her youth.
    â€œYou look good,” he said.
    â€œYou don’t.”
    He winked.
    â€œStill got the charm, though.”
    â€œDepends on your definition of charm. I see you’ve helped yourself to my fridge.”
    â€œJust one.”
    â€œI can’t wait to hear what you’re doing here.”
    He was about to say, “I was thinking of asking you the same question,” when it hit him. He smacked his hand against his forehead. She was letting Owen Plank plunk her in exchange for a place to stay.
    â€œLet’s catch up,” he said. “Tell me what you been doing all these years, give me details about the girls, what the grandkids are named, their ages.”
    â€œIt’s a little late to be caring,” she said.
    â€œPeople change,” he said. “Where I been the last two years, a man does a lot of thinking.”
    â€œWalker, you’re a liar. I don’t believe a word you say.”
    â€œWell, you might be right. But then again, you might be wrong. I won’t say I missed you all this time, but I sure as hell ain’t lyin’ when I say I’m glad to see you right now.” He hung his head and shuffled his feet.
    â€œDon’t act pathetic.”
    She handed him another beer and he followed her outside. No cattle had grazed this land for twelve years and the bleached grass arched high. Scrub oak, brush, and piñon circled the base of the hill, like a fringe of hair on a bald man. The place seemed to whisper, its tranquility a secret only they shared. Halfway to the old barn they each grabbed an end of a toppled picnic bench, set it upright, and sat with their backs to the sun.
    â€œWe did have some good times,” she said. “Long ago.”
    â€œLook here,” he said. “I have a proposition for you.”
    â€œYou were such an asshole, though.”
    â€œI’d make a lot of folks happy if I changed my name to Asshole Walker.”
    â€œYou should. From what I hear, most call you that, anyway.”
    â€œNow, listen. If you cooperate with my plans for this place, you’ll be sitting pretty for a long time.” He rested both elbows on his knees and glanced at her sideways, shaking his head. “I don’t know if I can trust you.”
    â€œYou probably can’t.” She threw him that look, the one that said she was ready to jump on an unbroken horse blindfolded and risk the consequences for the thrill of the ride. “Unless there’s a hell of a lot of money to be had.”

6
    H ER B IBLE RESTED BESIDE A portrait of Jesus on a small round table in the corner of the dining room. The table was covered with Grandma Edna’s tatted, floral and honeycomb patterned tablecloth with scalloped edging. A bookmark with praying hands and the words Do Justice/Love Mercy/Walk Humbly remembered the section currently under study. Lee Ann smoothed the embossed leather and carried The Book out to the truck where Dee, in pressed jeans, plaid shirt and vest,