After hours of listening to him complain and Mom fuss each time, I left the room with the idea of heading to the cafeteria. I was starving, but hadn't felt as if I could take my mother's snacks because she refused to leave the room. As I left, I promised to bring something back for the both of them, though I had no idea what I would find for my dad.
The cafeteria was nearly deserted since it was before lunch time for most people. Getting in line and studying my choices, I picked what I thought Mom would like and a few things for myself. The best I could do for Dad was a cup of pudding, which he might like more than the plain oatmeal he'd had for breakfast.
Sliding the tray down to the cashier, I reached in my bag for my wallet.
"I'll get that."
Before turning to see Burke standing behind me, I closed my eyes for a full three seconds and prayed for strength. "No, thank you."
I squawked when he simply handed a credit card over my head to the cashier.
"I said no!"
The cashier shrugged, ran his card, and handed it back.
Smirking, Burke picked up my tray and carried it to an empty table. With little choice, I followed him and stood behind one of the flimsy metal chairs.
"What is it with you swooping in at the worst possible moment?"
He quirked one thick black brow. "Is that what I do? I swoop?"
The amusement in his voice grated on my frazzled nerves. "You know very well that's what you do."
"It was a gesture of kindness. Most people would be grateful."
"The last thing I want is to be indebted to you." Yanking out the chair, I sat and stared at my food choices with no appetite left.
"I'd be surprised if you ate even half of that," he commented as he sat down across from me without invitation.
"It's not all for me."
Opening a Coke, I let the cold bubbles soothe my raw throat. Until I actually came face to face with him, I'd looked forward to speaking to him. How did one begin a conversation full of accusations with a near stranger?
"I take it your father is recovering nicely."
Unwittingly, Burke had handed me an opening. "What do you know of my father?"
It was a mistake to look directly at him. Like the sun, more than half a second of full exposure was blinding.
His expression showed surprise. "He's a police officer."
As though that explained it all. "And you know this because?"
"Because you gave his name to Emma yesterday, and I was standing right there. It hasn't been that long since I lived here, and gossip spreads fast in a town this size."
I'd been wrong; I could feel more stupid than I had the night before. Toying with the lid to my bottle gave me an excuse not to meet his gaze again. "Someone shot him. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"
Heat radiated off him in full force, making me sorry to look up and find his eyes hard and narrowed. "Oh, I see. Any crime happening in my vicinity must be my fault."
"It's a valid question." Lifting my chin in defiance, I refused to feel bad that I might have hurt what few feelings he had. "Do you know anything about it or not?"
"I know what I heard; that he pulled someone over and they shot him. It wasn't anyone I know personally, if that's your question."
Could I believe him? He would lie if he was involved, wouldn't he?
"Do you want to hook me up to a polygraph?"
"Excuse me?"
