LITMIR.BIZ

       Chapter Four

      Lindy listened as Ethan’s voice lowered, and his shock escalated.

      “What do you mean, she’s free?” He’d obviously taken a few steps away from the window display, but because he was the sole customer in the store and because Lindy strained her ears to hear, she didn’t miss a whispered word. “She was tried and found guilty of murder, Candace. Sentenced to Tutwiler for life. How could the state release her now?”

      A cold, bitter frisson shimmied down Lindy’s spine at the mere mention of that horrid place, as did a trickle of fear that Ethan could be very close to finding out who she was. Surely the social worker hadn’t figured that out.

      “A confession? What kind of confession?” He sounded almost as shocked as she had been when she heard the unexpected news, that her best friend had stabbed her in the back to save her own husband, Gil’s former business partner. Marsha’s testimony about the abuse, as well as how Lindy had confided that she had to get out of the marriage one way or another, had convinced the jury she was guilty. But Marsha had lied. And no one, not even Lindy, had suspected that Paul had murdered the man who had once been his best friend.

      Lindy forced her hands to keep moving, situating the fishing rods, placing the fish, anything to control the urge to bolt from the store, find Jerry and take him as far away from Claremont—and Ethan Green—as possible.

      But where would they go? And how long would she last with no money and no one to help them? Besides, she didn’t want to run from the law; she never had.

      She simply wanted her son.

      Ethan’s thick exhalation echoed beyond the fabric barrier forming the back of the display. “No, I understand. I was just caught off guard.” A pregnant pause caused Lindy’s palms to sweat while she wondered what Candace said on the other end. She brushed her hands against the soft fabric of her skirt and took a deep, calming breath.

      Don’t panic. Surely they haven’t matched Lindy Burnett to Melinda Sue Flinn. She closed her eyes. Not yet. Please, God, not yet.

      “Why do you think this won’t affect the adoption?” His voice, a bit softer now, seemed farther away.

      Lindy glanced down at her soft watercolor skirt, the blues and mints and pinks that had caught her eye when they were displayed in the window of Consigning Women making her nauseous now. And she saw that she’d bunched the pretty fabric within her palms and formed a few noticeable wrinkles. But she didn’t care—her focus was on Ethan’s conversation that could very well change her life.

      The boiled egg and buttered toast she’d eaten for breakfast threatened to make a hasty exit as he expressed her deepest fears.