“No more unusual than yours. Now stop stalling.”
“Women are so damned impatient.” He sighed. “Isn’t it obvious? With Roman out of town, one more pair of panties gone would clear his name.”
She blinked. “That’s very commendable of you. I think.” Charlotte didn’t know what to make of this tale. Though things made more sense now. She understood how the thief knew which houses to target—Samson did many of her mailings and hung around town, listening without being noticed. “Just tell me you’re through. No more stealing.”
“’Course not. It’s getting too hard, with busybodies like you snooping around. Now, if you’re finished with the third degree, I have some business to take care of back home.”
She didn’t question what. As he said, his life was none of her concern. “I’m finished. But I want you to know …” How did she thank a man for committing unwanted panty thefts on her behalf? “I appreciate the thought behind your acts.” She nodded. That sounded right.
“Then you can do me a favor in return.”
His words held echoes of Fred Aames. “I’m not making you your own pair of panties,” she said. She meant she wasn’t making him a pair for the girlfriend she doubted he had, but thought better of correcting herself.
“’Course not. Besides, I got six other pairs I don’t know what to do with.”
She sucked in a breath. “I suggest you burn them,” she said through clenched teeth.
“There’s still that favor I want.”
Was he moving on to extortion now? She figured he wanted her promise of silence about his escapade tonight and all the other nights he’d broken into homes to steal panties. “I won’t turn you in to the police,” she said, taking another stab at what was on his mind. Though she couldn’t leave Rick with an unsolved crime and hadn’t a clue what she was going to tell him.
Samson waved his hand in the air as if he couldn’t care less. She knew better. “You realize people don’t pay much attention to me unless they’re running the other way or ignoring me. I can sit beside someone and hear all ’bout their sex life because they think I’m too dumb to know what they’re talking about.”
She held out her hand, intending to offer comfort, but he scowled and she immediately pulled back.
“But I hear other things too. And I heard your mother and father talking the other day. They’re hurting.”
She stiffened her shoulders. “This time it’s none of your concern,” she said, turning his words back on him.
“True enough. But seeing as how you always give an old man you barely know a break … I think you oughta do the same thing for your folks.” He started across the street, in the opposite direction of town, toward the ramshackle shack where he lived. Without warning, he pivoted back to her. “You know, some of us don’t have parents or kin.” He turned back and resumed his lonely walk home.
“Sam?” Charlotte called after him.
He didn’t turn around again.
“You’ve got friends,” she said loudly.
He continued his journey home and didn’t acknowledge her words, though she knew he’d heard them.
He left her alone, touched as well as confused by his actions. She already knew she’d have to deal with Russell, as much as she didn’t look forward to that day. But right now it was Samson who concerned her. What in the world would she tell Rick?
A laundry list of words collided in her brain: obstruction of justice and accessory to a crime being just some of them. But she couldn’t bring herself to turn Samson in. And her role as lookout tonight had nothing to do with it. His crimes were harmless, the thefts were over. She believed him when he said tonight was the end. She owed the police department some kind of explanation that would let them close the case, yet she needed to keep Samson safe.
Charlotte bit down on her lower lip. The sun had set and night had fallen around her. The evening chilled her to the core and she started a brisk walk for home, all the while wondering what to do.
She wished Roman were here to advise her. The thought rose unbidden, without warning. Roman, the journalist, the advocate for truth. Yet were he here, she’d trust him with her secret, knowing he wouldn’t let Samson get hurt either. Her heart began a rapid pounding in her chest.
How could she trust him with such a huge secret and not believe the words he’d uttered? I love you. I’ve never said that to anyone else. I don’t want to lose you. And then there was the pained look in his eyes as he’d revealed the truth—at a time when he could have covered or lied in order to keep her in the dark. To ensure marriage and children and the family promise.
He hadn’t lied. He’d revealed all about the coin toss. Yet he’d had to know he risked losing her in the process.
What was she willing to risk in return?
* * *
The morning sun shone in the storefront window as Charlotte ran through her to-do list. “So remember to put out a dish of these chocolate eggs next week,” she said to Beth, checking off item six on her list. “But keep them at the register. We don’t want chocolate ruining the merchandise.” She chewed on the cap of her pen. “What do you think of renting an Easter Bunny costume from the place over in Harrington for Easter week? Maybe we can get all the shop owners on First to split the cost?”
Charlotte glanced at Beth, who stared at the storefront window, oblivious to everything, including Charlotte’s brilliant ideas. “I’ve got a better idea. We’ll undress you and send you naked down First with a sign on your back reading, COME SHOP AT CHARLOTTE’S. Sound good to you?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
Charlotte grinned and slammed her notebook down on the desk loudly enough to get a rise out
