'It’s clogged,' Farley added to the lie.
The sheriff noticed the black bag near the front door. 'Are you boys planning on spending the night here?'
'Maybe,' Farley answered. 'Depends on how much work the plumbing needs.'
'She doesn’t own the house. She’s just renting. Where is Lauren?'
'She’ll be here soon.'
'And you think you boys are going to sleep here in the same house with her, and you’re not related?'
Feinberg’s patience was wearing thin. 'Quit calling me boy. I’m thirty-two years old.'
'Thirty-two, huh? Then answer me this. What’s a grown man doing wearing braces? I never heard of such a thing.'
The braces were the last step in the reconstruction of a shattered jaw Feinberg had suffered four years ago during a raid that had gone sour, but the agent wasn’t about to impart that information to a man he had already surmised to be a complete moron. Besides, no one was supposed to know the truth, that they were FBI agents.
'We do things different in the east.'
'I reckon you do,' he agreed. 'But you still shouldn’t be staying here.'
'Why? Are you worried about Laurant’s reputation?' Feinberg asked.
'No, everyone knows Lauren’s a good girl,' the sheriff replied as he settled his broad rear end on the arm of the sofa.
'Then what’s the problem?' Farley asked. 'Why does it bother you if we sleep here?'
'Oh, it won’t bother me none at all, but it’s going to bother someone else you boys don’t want to be messing with. I’m warning you. You’d best find some other accommodations because he isn’t going to like hearing that Lauren’s got two men living with her, even if it’s just for a couple of days. No, he won’t like hearing it at all.'
'Who are you talking about?'
'Yeah, who won’t like it?' Farley asked as he shut the door. The sheriff wasn’t going to leave until they had an answer to that question.
'Never you mind who. I’m going to have to tell him though. Why don’t you boys go on up to the abbey? They’ve got rooms you can use for free if you tell them you’re here for retreat. You know what that is, don’t you? You spend your time praying and contemplating.'
'I want to know who’s going to be upset about us staying with Laurant,' Farley persisted. 'And I also want to know why you think you have to tell him.'
'’Cause if he found out that I knew and I didn’t tell him…'
'What?' Farley demanded.
'He can get real mean,' the sheriff said. 'And I don’t want to make him angry.'
'Make who angry, Sheriff?'
Lloyd pulled a stained handkerchief from his back pocket and mopped his brow. 'It’s close in here, isn’t it? Lauren’s got herself a window air conditioner, and I don’t think she’d mind if you boys turned it on. The living room will be nice and cool by the time she gets home. She is coming here today, isn’t she?'
'We’re not sure,' Feinberg said.
Farley wouldn’t give up. 'We’re still curious to hear that name, Sheriff.'
'I’m not giving it to you, and I can be right stubborn when I want to, and I’m feeling stubborn now. I wouldn’t get myself worked up about it if I was you, because you’re going to be meeting my friend real soon. He’ll come over here lickety-split as soon as he hears you’re here. I guarantee it. He’s a powerful man around these parts, so if you know what’s good for you, you’ll be real respectful to him. I wouldn’t make him mad, that’s for sure. The law can only do so much.'
'Meaning we’re on our own?' Farley asked.
The sheriff lowered his gaze. 'Something like that.' Shrugging, he added, 'It’s just the way things are around here. Progress comes with a price.'
'And that means…?' Farley asked.
'Never you mind.'
'You can tell your friend he has nothing to fear from us,' Feinberg said. 'Neither one of us is romantically interested in Laurant.'
Farley guessed where Feinberg was heading and immediately nodded. 'That’s right,' he agreed.
'Well, now, that’s good to hear because my friend is planning to marry Lauren real soon, and he always gets what he wants. Make no mistake about that.'
'He’s talking marriage, huh?' Feinberg remarked.
'It ain’t just talk. It’s only a matter of time before she comes around to understanding that’s the way it’s going to be.'
'Sounds like your friend thinks he owns Laurant,' Farley said.
'He does own her.'
Feinberg laughed.
'What in tarnation’s so amusing?'
'Your friend,' Feinberg explained. 'He’s in for a real disappointment.'
'How’s that?'
'When he finds out…' Farley deliberately let the sentence trail off.
'Finds out what?'
'Laurant met someone while she was in Kansas City.'
'It was love at first sight,' Feinberg interjected.
'That’s not completely true.' Farley spoke to Feinberg now as the agents continued to play the sheriff and feed him information. 'She’s known Nick all her life.'
'No, she’s known about him, but she never met him until last week.'
'Who are you talking about?'
'Nick.'
'Nick who?' the sheriff demanded, his frustration apparent.
'Nicholas Buchanan.'
'The man Laurant’s in love with,' Farley explained.
'The funny thing is…' Feinberg began.
'What?'
'This guy… Nick…'
'What about him?'
'He’s Father Tom’s best friend. Guess it was meant to be.'
'And this Nick lives in Kansas City? Long-distance relationships don’t work out.'
'Oh, he doesn’t live in Kansas City. He lives on the East Coast.'
'Then I don’t think Brenner has anything to worry about. Like I just said, long-distance relationships rarely work.'
The sheriff had unknowingly just given them his friend’s name, but neither Feinberg nor Farley let him know it. 'Nick must have figured that too,' Feinberg said. 'Which is why he’s moving here to Holy Oaks to be with Laurant,' Farley added.
The sheriff’s eyebrows shot up. 'He’s coming here… with her?'
'That’s right,' Farley said. 'Guess he doesn’t want to take the chance of losing her.'
'And it was love at first sight,' Feinberg reminded him.
'Where’s this fella going to stay?'
'Here with Laurant, until they get married. Then I’m not sure where they’ll live,' Farley told him.
'Get married, you say? Who’d you hear this from?'
'Laurant told us,' Feinberg answered.
'People will talk.'
'I imagine they will.'
'I got to get going now.' The sheriff hastily shoved his handkerchief back into his pocket and headed for the door.
