|
|
|
|
|
|
might have donated them to a library. He began, "Look, Abby" |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"Oh, Mike," she interrupted. "To think that I may be so close to finding what happened to my family!" |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
They were stopped at a red light, and he looked over to see her hands clasped in her lap, a radiant glow in her eyes, a smile on her lovely face. Maybe he should just keep quiet and let her enthusiasm fade when she failed. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
He knew well about faded enthusiasm. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"Do you know what's best of all? If we find the journals, I can report to you incidents on the trail that Lucy is likely to have recorded. Grace can be keeper of the journals until you look at them. If I can describe events that Lucy mentioned, you'll believe me thenwon't you?" |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"Sure," he said with a shrug. But so what if she could describe incidents in the journal? So what if, despite all his skepticism, he had an absurd desire to trust this woman who did marvelous things to his hormones and had an uncanny knack for saving his life? How could he buy her crazy tale even then? |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Instead, he'd try to find out how she had pulled off such a scamand why. |
|
|
|
|
|