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Show I l l Now he wanted to offer her money, but he didn't know how. He also wanted to tell her that something would turn up. Things always work out, don't they? In the end he just sat there, gripping the steering wheel. What good are platitudes when you need food stamps? Dyna's voice was trembling when she spoke again. "I don't suppose you'll believe this, Parker, but I couldn't take anything tonight. I saw your mom's silver, that little cup with your name and birthdate on it? And the candlesticks . . . and all that stuff in the cupboards. I'm guilty of breaking in-am I ever!--but I couldn't make myself take anything. I'm not that kind of person anymore." Her eyes were shining when she looked up at him and her chin tilted its same old way. "You know something, Parker? Walking away empty-handed like that?. . . I felt positively righteous. I did!" He knew she was telling the truth, but now he was the one feeling desperate. "Thanks for the ride. And the dinner. I loved it." She opened the door and he didn't try to stop her. "Sorry you didn't get to finish your cappuccino." Parker smiled bleakly. Then she was out of the truck, walking toward the darkened house. He watched her through tears building in his eyes, awaref but not caring, that she'd left her heist bag behind. He lifted it onto the seat. It was empty, like she said, just a greasy old army relic, the sight of which made him feel unutterably sad. Parker turned the key in the ignition. Driving away from Dyna, he let the hot tears roll. In all his dangerous rock work he'd never hurt the way she was hurting tonight. His arms ached, he wanted to hold her so much. |