by Mary Clay
Deputy Moore jumped in. “Westcott wasn’t trying to run you off the road that night at JB’s. He was trying to thwart the motorcyclists. If you remember, Westcott stayed on their tails when you made the U-turn, so the cyclists couldn’t follow.”
That was right. I’d never seen it that way before.
“Were you watching us the whole time?” Penny Sue asked blandly.
The DEA agent nodded.
“Damn,” she said, taking a big bite of her bagel. “All that worrying for nothing.” She chewed a moment, thinking. “Why didn’t you tell him,” she canted her head at Woody, “to get him off my back.” She looked Woody in the eye. “You ruined our vacation, you know that. Vindictiveness, wasn’t it, for my dumping you years ago?”
Woody coughed loudly. “Penny Sue, I’m a happily married man. The past had nothing to do with this.”
“He was only doing his job,” Zack said, rushing to Woody’s defense.
Ruthie smiled, suppressing a laugh. “Yes,” she muttered.
I elbowed her and whispered, “What does that mean?”
“They’ve made up, the karma is satisfied. That’s good, they won’t have to do another life together to correct old mistakes.”
Another life! “What’s this other life stuff? Are Zack and I straight?” I asked in a rush. I sure didn’t want to do another life with him.
She smiled slyly. “Maybe.”
Penny Sue interrupted our conversation. “Why are all of you handsome men here, sucking up to us?” she asked demurely.
“Don’t you know? CNN wants an exclusive interview with the three of you.”
Three. I smirked at Zack, shaking my head. He was incorrigible.
“The truck’s outside in the parking lot, now,” Moore said.
“Well,” Penny Sue drawled, morphing into Scarlett O’Hara. “It’s rude to keep them waiting.” She found her purse, refreshed her lipstick, and fluttered down the hall to face the public, Ruthie and me following in the trail of her Joy perfume.
