Breeding Ground Read Online Free

know about the O.S.S.?” She’d been watching him closely when she asked that, before she turned toward the kitchen and shoved her hands in her pants pockets. “How ’bout a cup of coffee?”
    â€œThanks.” He started adding logs to the fire, arranging them with a poker, making sparks fly up the flue.
    â€œThere’s a letter from Tom on the table. He left me something to give you. Go ahead and read it.”
    He’d picked it up before she’d finished talking, and was holding it up to the light from one of the tall front windows when she walked off to the kitchen.
    He was sitting in front of the fire when she came back with the coffee, and he said, “That smells good, thanks. Have you listened to Tom’s tape?” Alan Munro sipped his coffee and set his mug on the arm of the sofa, his long legs stretched toward the fire, his eyes still on the letter.
    â€œThe power’s still off, and Tom’s tape recorder’s packed, and I probably won’t get a chance till I get home to Lexington. I was planning to leave tomorrow.”
    â€œIt’s supposed to melt overnight.”
    â€œGood.”
    â€œWho’s ‘Mimi the miscreant?’”
    â€œShe was a four-year-old mare I bought after I had to put my old horse down, and we didn’t get along. She tested me constantly, and was generally unpredictable, and I didn’t have the patience for that then. Not with everything else that was going on. So what will you do with his book of names?”
    â€œKeep it. We knew some people in common and I might want to get in touch.”
    â€œAre you a mechanical engineer too?”
    â€œNo, I’m a chemical engineer. Is Sam okay?”
    â€œI think he’ll be fine. I’ll start feeding him a little at a time, and watch him really closely. I checked on him while I made the coffee.”
    â€œTom used to say Sam was one in a million, but I never understood why.”
    â€œRight now he’s one more piece of Tommy’s life that I’ve got to take care of.”
    â€œI see.” He folded the letter and handed it back.
    â€œOur Mom died in October, and I’m still sorting out her stuff.”
    â€œAnd that’s on top of missing her.”
    Jo put her feet on the coffee table and crossed her arms across her middle. “She died of a brain tumor, and she wasn’t herself for two years. She told me she hated me most days, till she got so she couldn’t talk. Then she’d glare, or turn away. That was while she could see and move.”
    â€œAh.” Alan Munro looked away from Jo, and sat staring at the fire for a minute, rubbing the scar on his jaw. “So you’re disgusted with Tom for doing it to you too? Making you clean up his mess?”
    â€œNo! I loved Tommy, but—”
    â€œIt’s a lot of death too soon.”
    â€œYeah. You always put words in people’s mouths?”
    â€œNo.” He laughed. “Sometimes, though.”
    â€œYou think Tommy killed himself?” Jo stared straight at the fire, her hands clenched in her lap.
    â€œAbsolutely not. Why would you ask that?”
    â€œThe letter. It was a strange thing to do. It could’ve been a suicide note. Like he’d planned his own death.”
    â€œNope. Not Tom. That was what he wanted to say to you. You. Josie. And he made sure he got it done in case he broke his neck over a jump, or got driven off the road. Right? Tom made plans.”
    â€œThat’s what’s got me worried.”
    â€œHe talked about you a lot, you know.”
    â€œDid he.” Jo didn’t ask it like a question. It came out cold and flat, and her face seemed to close down.
    â€œHe’d recently met a woman too, I think he was really interested in.”
    â€œTommy? Where? He never said a word.”
    â€œOne of his jobs. He’d been helping design storage facilities for an oil company based in Fairfax. She’s