"Timothy Zahn - The Green and the Gray" - читать интересную книгу автора (Zahn Timothy)

cheese. "But it didn't seem smart to give her a clear shot at grabbing this."
"That's ridiculous," Caroline insisted. Still, she felt an unpleasant shiver run down her back as she
eyed the knife. "She's the one who's in danger."
"Desperate people sometimes do desperate things," Roger reminded her, setting the knife back onto
the counter. "Look, I know how gaga you get when there's an underdog involvedтАФ"
"That's not fair."
"тАФbut the fact is that we don't know the first thing about this girl," Roger plowed on over her
protest. "And even if she isn't a threat to us herself, she could still be putting us in danger just by
being here."
He gestured toward the living room. "Like if whoever started that job decides to come by and finish
it."
Caroline shook her head. "I think it has to do with her family," she said. "Domestic violence,
probably from a father or stepfather."
Roger frowned. "How do you figure that?"
"That look she gave you in the living room, for one thing, when I first asked about her family,"
Caroline said. "She's nervous in your presence."
"Interesting theory," Roger murmured. "Problem is, she wasn't looking at me."
It was Caroline's turn to frown. "Are you sure?"
"Positive," he said. "Because at first I thought the same thing you did. What she was doing was
making sure I'd locked the door, then doing a quick scan of the balcony itself."
"Of the balcony?"
Roger shrugged. "She came in that way," he pointed out. "If she can, why can't someone else? And
don't forget our husky friend with the handy Broadway dimmer switch. If this is a case of family
violence, we're talking one very weird family."
"You're right," Caroline sighed, conceding the point. "So what do we do?"
"Good question," Roger said, tracing a finger along the edge of the knife handle. "We can't call

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The Green and the Gray

anyone; cops or Children and Family Services. She'd just disappear again. And we can't throw her
out, either, not in the middle of the night."
"So she stays here?" Caroline asked.
"At least for tonight," he said, not sounding very happy about it. "Maybe tomorrow she'll be more
willing to talk."
"And if she isn't?"
Roger exhaled noisily. "Let's just hope she is."


Dinner that evening was a quiet and rather strained affair, at least on Roger's part. He was fine when
talking to Caroline about the details of her day, or discussing the latest political scandal from upstate.
But all his conversational gambits with Melantha fell as flat as last year's campaign promises. Maybe
Caroline was right; maybe the girl was afraid of him.
Caroline did a little better. She was able to get Melantha talking about her hobbies, her favorite
foods, and her taste in music. The first centered around painting and gardening; the second included
Greek and Moroccan cuisine and any kind of seafood; the third ran to current preteen heart throbs,
most of whom Roger had never heard of.
But all attempts to draw her out on what had happened the previous evening brought either silence or
a quick change of topic.
Still, the girl was polite enough, and had the table manners of someone who'd been properly brought