Page 70 of Open Season

Moving that flying pan out of the way, she took out a smaller one, sprayed it with cooking spray, then poured the beaten eggs into it and set it on the hot eye. She checked the biscuits, then got the butter and jam out of the refrigerator and set them on the table.

Jack looked around. “I don’t want to use the cordless. Do you have a land line?”

“In the bedroom.”

He got up and went into the bedroom. Daisy busied herself stirring the eggs and watching the biscuits as they rose and began to brown. After a minute he came back into the kitchen and said, “I have some people checking into some things, but I’m afraid one of the men in the parking lot saw you, and got your tag number.”

She stirred the eggs even harder. “Then call the mayor and ask him who gave him the number.”

“There’s a slight problem with that.”

“What?”

“The mayor lied to me when he asked me to run the number. He may be involved.” Jack paused. “He’s probably involved.”

“What do we do?”

“I’ve already taken steps to make sure no one can find you. Don’t tell anyone you’ve moved; tell your mother and aunt not to mention it—in fact, call your mother back and tell her to make certain no one follows her when she comes over here.”

She gaped at him. “This is my mother, not James Bond!”

“Then tell her to let your aunt drive. I think that woman could outdo Bond.”

In the end, he was the one who called her mother, and in a calm tone told her what he wanted her to do. Daisy concentrated on breakfast, which was about all she could handle right then. “Another thing,” she heard him say, “do you have Caller ID? Then erase it. I don’t want Daisy’s number showing up anywhere.”

“I need to give a statement,” she said when he hung up. “Don’t I?”

“As fast as possible.” He picked up the phone again and hit redial. When her mother answered, he said, “Daisy won’t be at work today. Call—”

He glanced at Daisy, who said, “Kendra.”

“—Kendra and tell her to handle things. Make something up. Tell her Daisy has a toothache.”

When he hung up again, he said, “If this guy is trying to get to you before you can give a statement and description, possibly even make a positive i.d. from police photos, then the thing to do is give it as fast as possible so he won’t have anything to gain.”

“Don’t I have to be alive to testify?” she asked, and was proud her voice was so steady. She raked the fluffy scrambled eggs into a bowl, took the perfectly browned biscuits out of the oven and dumped them in a bread basket, then set everything on the table.

“You will be,” he said. “That’s a promise.”

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