BooksBarbecue
Back The Newcomer Save as PDF
Chapters (71)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. 53
  57. 54
  58. 55
  59. 56
  60. 57
  61. 58
  62. 59
  63. 60
  64. 61
  65. 62
  66. 63
  67. Epilogue
  68. Acknowledgments
  69. Also by Mary Kay Andrews
  70. About the Author
  71. Newsletter Sign-up

The gun fit in the palm of her hand, snub-nosed and black. Letty stared down at it with distaste.

“You ever fired a gun before?” Ava asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” Letty whispered.

“That’s good,” Ava said, nodding. “Most girls like you are afraid of guns. I’m afraid of ’em myself. But I’m more afraid of what could happen if there’s trouble. You know what I mean?”

“I do,” Letty agreed. “But Ava, I don’t think…”

“You don’t have to think. You just need to know it’s there, and know how to use it.”

“Letty, I’m hungry!” Maya’s plaintive voice drifted down from the top of the stairs. She shoved the gun back into the drawer. Ava locked it.

“Coming, ladybug,” Letty called.

15

SHE WAS WATCHING MAYA PLAYING at the water’s edge with another little girl when a shadow fell over her. Letty looked up. It was Joe. But not no-nonsense spit-and-polish Detective Joe DeCurtis. This was Joe Sixpack, bare-chested, barefoot, dressed in gaudy floral board shorts, holding a small Yeti cooler.

“Hey,” he said, looking down at her. “Ava told me you guys were down here. Mind if I join you?”

She shrugged. “It’s a public beach.”

“Wow. Okay. Never mind.” He turned and began to trudge back toward the motel.

Letty regretted the words as soon as she spoke them. She glanced toward the beach, where Maya and the other little girl were busily drizzling wet sand on each other’s legs, and shrieking with delight.

“Joe!” she called.

He kept walking.

She jumped to her feet and ran after him. “Hey. Slow down!”

But he didn’t stop or slow down, so she sped up, caught him by the arm.

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “That was a bitchy thing to say. Come on back, please?”

“I’m good,” he said, his expression flat. “Wouldn’t want to impose.”

“It’s not an imposition.” She bit her lip. “Look, I’m kinda rusty at making new friends. Give me another chance, okay?”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” She pointed toward the beach blanket, actually one of the motel’s old floral bedspreads, where she’d set up camp. “Plenty of room.”

Joe followed her back to her spot and looked around. “Where’s Maya?”

“Down there by the water. She’s having a ball. Living her best life.”

He sat down and opened the cooler. “Beer or hard cider?”

“Don’t judge me, but I do enjoy a hard cider,” she said, and he handed her a can flecked with bits of crushed ice. She examined the label. “Three Daughters. Never heard of it.”

“It’s a local craft brewery. One of my high school buddies started a brewery. They’ve got a tasting room in downtown St. Pete. I work security there sometimes if they’re having a big event. It’s pretty good stuff.”