Page 145 of The Fourth Option
“He’s sleeping, dry and warm. Last night took a lot out of him, though. The bone broth and gumbo were just what both of us needed.”
Belle’s jeans and leather jacket of the previous night had been exchanged for a black Fleur du Mal flared corset dress. She still paired it with her scuffed Doc Martens.
“Why are you all dressed up?”
“Dressed up? It’s hot. Found this thing at a thrift shop.”
“Well, it looks, uh… it looks nice.”
“A compliment? Thank you, kind sir,” she said with a curtsy. “You hungry? It’s almost lunch. How about Paladin, should we bring him something?”
“Let’s let him sleep. He needs rest. Any more gumbo? That was delicious.”
Belle pulled a Lodge cast-iron Dutch oven from the refrigerator and set it on the stove.
“Where’s Gloria?”
“She went to the grocery store to get some dog food for Paladin and a few things for dinner. I get the feeling she likes having a man around the house. Be careful, I think she’s writing up a ‘honey do’ list.”
“I’m happy to help.”
“She had me pull that old typewriter off a shelf in her closet,” Belle said, motioning toward the dining room table just off the small living room. “She said she got it in 1966 from a salesman who told her that it was the same one Hemingway used.”
Walker stepped into the dining room.
“Royal Quiet De Luxe,” he said, reading the faded emblem. “Same as mine.”
“She says the keys stick but that you are welcome to it if you can get it working.”
Walker’s eyes scanned the table. It contained the SSE binders from Dorado Freight and the security server he had yanked from the wall. It was attached to Belle’s laptop.
Belle leaned against the archway between the kitchen and the dining room.
“I’ll walk you through what I found after you eat,” she said, her concern for him evident.
“Belle, I can’t be here. It’s not safe.”
“We can talk about that after you eat. Come on,” she said, gesturing with her head. “Gumbo’s ready.”
The gumbo was rich and smoky, ladled over a roasted quail. It was the kind of food that didn’t just fill your stomach, it reminded you that you were alive. He ate slowly, methodically, lost in thought.
Belle picked at her food without really eating.
“Chris, the man who tried to kill you at the river. He was a cop. That makes three.”
Walker finished his gumbo and pushed his plate to the side. He had given Belle the rundown last night on the drive to Gloria’s.
“I know.”
“They are going to find you.”
“I know that too.”
“That means they are going to find me. We are too connected now.”
“I’m so sorry, Belle.”
“We need to get this story out there with hard evidence that will blow this thing wide open. Get it to Greer, the reporter. If it’s out there, then there is no need to silence us.”
