More than anger haunted them. She looked scared.No, not just scared. She was nervous, high strung...and terrified.
Each time he touched her during the day, he was tempted to refuse to release her. To hold her ever tighter and demand that she talk to him.To force her to rest and give some of the fear and worry over to him...
But her eyes flashed each time they met his. A cold war had truly begun.
"You really are crazy, Bryn," Barbara said flatly. "And I'm telling you right now, when you call from the county jail, I'm not coming to pick you up. I'm going to pretend that I don't know a thing about it. Bryn, if you would just talk to him, if you were even halfway decent to him, it wouldn't be so bad. But you're hateful! When he catches you..."
Bryn pulled her black sweater over her head.' 'I tried to be decent to him. I'd kiss his feet if I thought it would work. It wouldn't. And he isn't going to catch me, Barbara. I stumbled into him and Mick right before he left, and Mick was saying something about its being 'his turn,' and Lee said to try and be there by nine at the latest. So they're either going out, or they're going to rehearse. And if they rehearse, they'll be in that soundproof room. I could explode a bomb and no one would hear me."
"Oh, Bryn, I just don't like it. Not one bit," Barbara said wearily. They were up in Bryn's bedroom, and for the tenth time Barbara walked to the window and assured herself that it was bolted. "I did lock the kids' window, didn't I?"
"We both checked it, Barb. No one is getting in here tonight. But then again, I don't believe anyone will try." She sighed nervously. "I'm ready. Come with me and make sure you lock both bolts as soon as I'm out."
Barbara nodded unhappily. They were halfway down the stairs when the doorbell started to ring. Both women froze; then Bryn shook herself. "Whisperers don't ring doorbells," she assured Barbara--and herself. But she gazed out the peephole carefully,then leaned against the door in dismay. "It's that damned golfer!" she told Barbara.
"Golfer?"
"Mike Winfeld. I met him at the country club.""The pro? He's a doll. You get all the good ones!"
Barbara peered through the peephole herself and sighed a little wistfully. "Just like RebelWithout a Cause--except that he's got one now."
"What are you talking about?" Bryn demanded impatiently.
"Mike Winfeld," Barbara replied, surprised by the question. "He was a street kid--getting into drugs, petty thefts,tough -kid kinds of things. But in one of his foster homes he met a golfer, and it was success ever after."
"That's just wonderful, Barbara," Bryn muttered, "but I have to get out of here now."
"So open the door and explain that you've an appointment."
' 'Butwhat if--''
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
"If he comes in, I'll entertain him for you."
Bryn cast Barbara a sharp scowl,then opened the door with a brilliant smile. "Mike! How nice to see you. What brings you here?"
"The hope of catching just a minute of your time."
Bryn allowed her smile to fade. "Oh, Mike! I'm so sorry. I was just on my way to keep an appointment.
But Barbara is here... Barbara, did you get a chance to meet Mike Winfeld?"
"No, I didn't," Barbara had her hand graciously extended. "What a pleasure, Mr. Winfeld."
"I was just on my way out," Bryn apologized
For a moment she was really sorry; his handsome features were composed in a mask of disappointment, and she was struck again by what a pleasant individual he was. But she had to get going, and he was in her way! She couldn't really think about anything else when she was so horribly worried about Adam.
She had barely made it through the day. She could hardly remember anything about the nightmare hours of waiting....
"Well," Mike laughed, "just remember I'm a determined man! Barbara,nice meeting you."
"Thanks," Barbara murmured.
"Can I walk you to your van?" Mike asked.
"Of course," Bryn murmured. "Barb, I'll see you soon."
"I hope so," Barbara remarked in a dire tone.
"What was that all about?" Mike asked with a laugh as he walked to the van with Bryn.
"Oh, she doesn't like to baby-sit late," Bryn said. They reached the van, and she unlocked the door to crawl lithely into the driver's seat. "It was nice of you to come by."
"Not nice...just determined."
Bryn grimaced. "I really am horribly busy for the next few weeks."
"I believe you. Have a nice night."
"Thanks, you too."
He smiled and waved with a disconsolate shrug as he backed away from the van. Bryn turned the key in the ignition and pulled out of the drive.
In herrearview mirror she saw him climb into a small dark Porsche. When she reached the highway, his car was behind hers. She waved once more, and then forgot about him as her problems took control of her mind.
Barbara was right. She was crazy. She was about to break into a man's house like a common burglar.