Stranger in the Mirror [Shades of Heaven] (Soul Change Novel) (7 page)

She tugged down the skirt, which came to mid-thigh. “I’ll be okay. Once I get used to it.”

“You’ll be fine.”

A few minutes later, he pulled into the dusty parking lot of Bad Boys Diner. As promised, Caty had shown up early to show Marti the ropes.

“Take good care of her,” he said to Caty. “She’s feeling queasy this morning.” He gestured to his stomach and made a rolling motion with his hand.

“I won’t work her too hard.”

Marti nodded. “I’ll do the best I can. As soon as I learn what I need to do.” She looked around, scanning the long counter top, the tables that seemed to number in the hundreds.

Jesse touched her arm. “Good luck. See you at lunch.”

He walked away, feeling almost like a father might after taking his daughter to her first day of school. Ah, she’d be fine.

With Caty’s good grace, and a smaller than usual section, Marti made it through the breakfast crowd. By ten, only a few people lingered, reading the paper and drinking coffee, only requiring the occasional fill up.

Caty looked at the clock, her curly ponytail swinging over her shoulder. “The owner should be here any minute. Chuck usually gets here after the breakfast crowd.”

As if on cue, a short, skinny man in his thirties nearly crashed through the door. He surveyed the few people in the diner and headed right to Caty.

“How was the breakfast crowd? Better than this, I hope.”

“Chuck, you ask me that every morning. Why don’t you come in earlier so you can see for yourself?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Chuck stopped when he looked at Marti. “Gawd, you look awful. Do you want to scare the customers away with those bruises?”

With that, he walked back into the kitchen.

Marti frowned.

Caty waved him off. “Sensitivity isn’t his strong point. Before the hour is up, he’ll be asking you, in his gruff way, how you’re feeling.”

Marti glanced at Chuck, now wearing a white baseball cap and moving purposefully around the kitchen as he talked to the cook. “I hope he doesn’t say anything to me at all.”

Fifty-two minutes later, Chuck walked over to where Marti was wiping down the counter. “D’ya know who did it?”

She shook her head, wishing he would go away. “No, I don’t remember anything about it.”

“Probably better.”

“Yeah, probably.”

He looked at her for several seconds past the comfortable range. “Do you think you’ll ever remember?”

“I don’t think so.”

He shrugged. “Sick son-of-a-bitch outta pay for what he did. Well, I’m glad you’re back. That table over there needs clearing.” With that, he walked back to the kitchen.

When she relayed the strange conversation, Caty didn’t think it sounded out of the ordinary for Chuck. Marti wondered. He did seem concerned about her remembering her attacker. Would it be his face Marti would remember? He was watching her again when she glanced toward the kitchen.

A while later, a woman walked in and sat down at the counter. She had a barrel-body, with short, almost-white blonde hair, and a phony smile. Marti glanced at Caty, who sidled over.

“That’s Donna Hislope. She’s a gossip and general bitch. A while back, she had a thing for Jesse, and he pretty much gave her the brush off. Definitely not his type. Anyway, that’s the history. Go see what kind of small prey she wants.”

“Goody.” Marti sauntered over. “So, Donna, what can I get for you?”

She picked up the menu and looked it over. “Um, diet soda—no, make that a chocolate shake. That’s all. Gotta watch my figure.”

“Uh, yeah.” Marti set down the shake a few minutes later. “Here you go.” As she was about to make an escape, Donna spoke to her.

“You look pretty good. I mean, considering what happened to you.”

Marti turned around, forcing a smile. “Why, thank you.”

“It must have been awful.”

“I don’t remember anything about it.”

Donna’s mouth twitched. “I bet they don’t catch him. He was probably just passing through. Do you think he was a drifter? Probably, huh?”

Why was it her place to assure the woman? Wasn’t it supposed to be the other way around? “It could be anyone. Even someone you see every day.”

Marti walked back to the other side of the counter, pretending to clean a dirty spot. That was the scary truth: it could be someone in town. She was fairly certain it wasn’t Jesse, not with the tenderness he’d shown. It probably wasn’t Dean; he looked too innocent. Only two people stood out as strange so far—Chuck and Billy.

As the clock ticked toward eleven, people trickled in for lunch. Caty made a point to clean something nearby and whisper each new person’s identity, as she had that morning. Three young men walked in, shoving one another jovially as they dropped down into a booth in Marti’s section.

Caty scooted over to Marti. “The plumpish redhead wearing overalls littered with pieces of dried grass? That’s Josh. He’s probably been mowing lawns. Skip is the skinny blond with the blue and white hanky around his neck.”

“Looks like a German Shepherd I saw once. Who’s the other guy?” He was dark-haired, tall, and nicely built, wearing dress pants and a crisp white shirt.

“That’s Paul Paton, the sheriff’s son. This week he’s selling insurance. Be careful around him. He and Jesse are like two fighting tomcats; you never know what Paul will do just to piss him off. In fact, don’t get friendly with any of them. They’re all jerks.”

Marti smoothed her skirt, pulling out her pad and pen. “Why do Jesse and Paul fight?”

“There’s bad blood between them, starting in grade school. Some backstabbing, fights over girls, that sort of thing.”

Marti walked over with pad in hand. “What can I get you to drink?”

Paul’s green eyes were as penetrating as Jesse’s could be. “How are you doing, Marti? I heard about”—he glanced uneasily at the two men opposite him—“what happened.”

“I’m fine, thanks. Drinks?”

They spoke on top of each other, giving her their meal choices as well. As she turned to leave, Paul’s pendant, an eagle with wings spread in flight, caught her eye. Something about it bothered her, or intrigued her. Without thinking, she leaned down and took it in her fingers.

“Wow, that’s some pendant,” she said, avoiding Paul’s eyes now that she realized how close she was to him.

“Haven’t you noticed it before? My dad gave it to me last year.”

Her fingers traced the edges of the wings before she abruptly let go and straightened. “Guess I never really saw it.” She retreated to clip their order on the chrome carousel.

Caty reached up to clip her own order. In a low voice, she said, “You’d better watch that flirting. You’re a married woman, and pregnant no less.”

Marti caught the glint of jest in Caty’s eyes, but the warning came through all the same. She started filling a glass with Coke. “I wasn’t flirting. Have you seen that pendant of Paul’s? It’s beautiful.”

“Oh, yeah, he’s shown it off plenty of times. It’s the only thing his father’s ever given him.”

Marti returned with the drinks, careful now to avoid Paul’s eyes. She didn’t want to give him the wrong idea. “Here you go. Your order should be up in a few minutes.”

“You sound kinda sexy, with your voice low and husky like that,” Josh said.

She looked him in the eye. “It’s from being strangled.” She turned her back on the three and strutted to the counter, her gait stiff with outrage. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched them.

Josh leaned in. “She doesn’t look all that upset considering what happened to her. Maybe she liked it.”

It was all she could do not to stalk back over and punch him.
Stay cool. Listen
.

Skip said, “Maybe she did, but she says she don’t remember anything.”

Josh snorted. “How can a woman forget something like that? No, I think she liked it so much, she doesn’t want to put the guy away.” He licked his lips. “Maybe she wants him to come back, and—”

“Shut up,” Paul whispered vehemently, getting up and walking away from the table.

After taking another order, Marti turned to find Paul sitting at the counter behind her.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have asked you in front of them, but I really wanted to know how you were. You seem so, well, different.”

She glanced away for a second. “Yeah, something like that can change a person.” Now that was an understatement.

“We’ve all heard—I’ve heard things, but you know how facts can get blown out of proportion.”

She pressed her hands flat on the counter, facing him. “I’m surprised your father didn’t tell you all the gory details.” Maybe he’d share some.

A bitter laugh escaped Paul’s lips. “He doesn’t tell me anything about his job since I told him I didn’t want to become a cop. I wouldn’t even ask him.”

Chuck slammed the bell down twice to indicate her order was up. She loaded the food onto a tray, glad to see Paul rejoining his friends. With only a few items on her tray at a time, Paul’s table took two trips. She was glad when they were taken care of.

As though he’d materialized like a ghost, she turned to find Jesse sitting at the counter, wearing a surly expression directed at Paul. Despite that, she was glad to see a familiar face.

“Hi, stranger,” she said in her whispery voice.

He tore his gaze from Paul and his buddies. “What did he want?”

“Who?”

“Paul. I saw him talking to you.”

She was surprised to see so much malice in the usually easy-going green of his eyes. “Fine, and how’s your day going, dear?”

He caught himself, then smiled briefly. “Sorry. How’s it going?”

“I hate it. I already smell like a french fry, and I’ve dropped two glasses so far, making me glad they use plastic here. I would trade government secrets to hear one, just one, song by Lady Gaga. And I have a tremendous respect for servers now. Now … he was asking how I was doing. Probably more to pump me for information to feed the gossips around here.”

Jesse leaned forward. “Don’t tell him anything, understand? Especially about you being—”

She put a finger against his lips. “Are you kidding? I’m not telling anyone anything.” His mouth was warm and soft, and she jerked her finger back as though he’d singed her.

Curiosity flared in his eyes, but he picked up the menu. “I’ll have a hamburger with pickles and ketchup and a sweet tea. Dear,” he added with a smile that was more like his usual self.

Her cheeks warmed, even though he was reflecting her use of the word. She hurried to get his tea, then took another order. As she passed the large refrigerator, she paused to peer at her reflection. Yep, she looked awful. Not the tall blonde she kept imagining, but the short, thin girl with the bruised face.

By noon, the place was crazy-busy. Paul and his friends lingered, but Jesse apologetically said he couldn’t stay long. He squeezed her hand before leaving, and she wished he would have pulled her out of the chaos. She was working for her escape, she reminded herself. Thoughts of carefree, windblown days full of sun and fun made her homesick. She sighed, bringing her focus back to the diner and the cacophony of voices and laughter.

Harry, Jesse’s boss, asked how she felt. Billy sat at the end of the counter and gave her a faint smile. Most people were friendly, inquiring about her well-being, tsking at how something so terrible could happen in Chattaloo.

“That’s Carl, the sheriff,” Caty murmured as she passed by. “The guy with him is Lyle, his deputy.”

Carl approached with that confident air of the law. Only a few strands of gray glistened in his black hair, and except for a small paunch, he was in good shape. He walked up to the counter while Lyle found a table.

“How are you doing, young lady?”

“I’m okay, Sheriff. Any leads?”

Carl let out a long sigh. “I think it was a transient passing through, probably long gone by now.” He rubbed his fingers down his moustache. “Have you remembered anything yet?”

“Not a glimmer.”

“That’s a shame. Be nice to throw the bastard in jail and keep him there a long time. Might even have an accident, slip and hit his head.” He shrugged. “Happens sometimes.”

She shivered, hoping she never ended up in jail.

But it was more than the thought of vigilante justice that raised a slew of chill bumps on her arms. Wherever she looked, people watched her, speculating or with concern. Being in the spotlight was one thing. This kind of attention was something entirely different.

The man watched Marti clear a table with deliberation, as though she’d never waited tables before. In the din of lunchtime activity, he could observe all he wanted without seeming overly interested. Every once in a while, her gaze would sweep the restaurant, passing over him as casually as it did anyone else.

She’d looked right at him, not a hint of recognition. He chewed his food but didn’t taste it. He had fought those erotic, demanding impulses for so long. He’d had the best intentions when he’d pulled over to help Marti. She’d been wearing those cut-offs and a tank top that accentuated small, firm breasts. Something about her helplessness summoned those old urges back from the tomb he’d buried them.

With an embarrassed smile, she’d told him she was out of gas, but he could feel her hesitancy around him. It was the same way his truelove, the blood of his heart, had acted after she’d broken off their affair. Marti acting the same way had set something off inside him with that spark of distrust in her eyes and the way she stepped away as he moved closer. He’d grown hot, throbbing, and that dizziness overcame his senses. He lunged for her, and her scream of surprise stirred him more.

With his hand over her mouth, he’d dragged her into the woods that bordered the highway. She struggled so hard that he had to pin her beneath his body, his weight on her stomach and hips. She was crying, “Please don’t! I’m pregnant, don’t hurt my baby.”

He’d looked down at her flat stomach, but he’d heard that she was pregnant, with Jesse’s baby, no less. He’d smiled. And she fought even harder.

He’d been surprised at the petite girl’s strength and desperation. He’d wanted to be gentle, but the harder she fought, the harder he had to pin her down. He ripped off her top—he remembered liking that part the first time he’d raped a woman. The power of control, the shame, and fear in her eyes … intoxicating.