FORTY-EIGHT
Johnny came back into the room, rubbing his hair with a towel and saw Brigit closing her mobile. When she turned, she smiled. “Who was that?” he asked.
“Belinda. She just telephoned me, wanting to know if I was okay.”
“Belinda? Who’s Belinda?”
A dark look came over her face. “Remember how you burst into the place where I was staying? You nearly killed her husband?”
The memory flooded back and he nodded, feeling awkward and returned to rubbing his hair, turned, and stopped. A tightness developed inside, his throat becoming dry. He looked back at her. “Why would she call now?”
“I don’t know. She just wanted to know if I was all right.”
All of a sudden, the early warning went off inside his brain. “She didn’t say anything else?” He tried to keep the edge from his voice, but
