They were hers. Her white cotton underwear. The ones with the scratchy lace edging around the legs and the pink satin rosette in the front. She looked close. There was something crusty and stiff stuck between the fold…
She jerked her face away from the bag the moment she realized what it was, shame splotched against her neck. She looked around, confused—expecting to see a bunch of town kids giggling behind a tree at the joke they’d made of her.
There was no one there. Just Jason and Riley standing a few feet away, watching her in that way they had. They knew something was wrong and had decided to be very still and quiet until it was safe to move again.
She’d worn them Wednesday. She remembered because the lace trim around the legs had driven her crazy all day. She’d worn them and then thrown them in the dirty clothes basket in her closet, vowing to cut the lace off of them before she wore them again. She looked up, aiming her face toward the back of her trailer. Her bedroom window was directly in front of her, no more than thirty feet away.
Getting her underwear would be an easy thing. Anyone with a few bucks in his pocket was welcome into Kelly’s bed. She was at the diner most nights. It would take only a few minutes to duck into her room afterward and take what you wanted. Someone had stolen her underwear and then stood here and watched her while they—
She swallowed the lump of disgusted embarrassment that threatened to choke her. For some reason, Jed Carson’s face swam in front of her.
Tying the bag off, she jammed it into the pocket of her apron before gathering the twins and hurrying through the trees to the other side of the trailer park.
What could she do with them? Take them to her father? She imagines dropping them on his desk, explaining what they were. Where they’d come from.
She could just hear it—him telling her that all a pair of her semen-covered underwear in the woods behind her house proved was that she was a whore, just like her mother.
Telling Tommy would cause a different kind of trouble entirely. He’d automatically assume it was Jed—just as she had—and do something stupid. Something that would get him arrested or worse.
She couldn’t tell her father. She couldn’t tell Tommy. She couldn’t tell anyone.
As usual, she was on her own.
SIX
SHE’D TOLD KELLY SHE had a double shift at the diner but that was a lie.
She’d get off at three o’clock and if she was lucky, make it across town in time to make the 3:10 bus to Marshall. She tried to get there at least once a month to see her grandmother and to deposit money into the savings account Lucy had started for her when she was a little girl. She’d managed to save over five thousand dollars in the year and a half she’d worked at the diner. Her escape plan if things really got bad. The sudden appearance of Pete and what she’d found in the woods behind the trailer this morning told her that it was no longer a question of if things got bad but a promise of when.
After she’d dropped the twins off at Mrs. Kirkland’s, she’d thrown the underwear in the dumpster near the entrance to the trailer park. There was no way she could tell someone without making herself look bad. No one would believe her. Not even Tommy.
It was best to forget about it. Move on. One of her mother’s customers had found her underwear and used them to masturbate while he watched her undress. Disgusting and mortifying but there was nothing she could do about it without causing more trouble for herself.
She walked through the back door of the diner and into to the kitchen, expecting to see Tommy working the grill but he was nowhere to be seen. Instead, Dale—Tommy’s uncle and the diner’s owner—stood at the flat top, flipping burgers. As soon as she walked in, he cut a look at the clock above the ticket window. She’d made it without a second to spare.
“You sure cut it close, don’t ya?” Dale said with no real heat, shifting over to drop a basket of fries into the fryer.
She thought about what she’d been doing a half hour ago. Examining a pair of defiled underwear left outside her window. Realizing they were hers. Throwing them away because there was no one she could tell who would believe her. “Sorry. Jason’s got a cold. He was fussing all night,” she said, hanging her purse on the hook next to the door. If she wasn’t careful, lying was going to become a habit. “Where’s Tommy?” she said, hoping the question sounded casual.
Dale shrugged. “Called late last night, told me he was gonna jump a bus and head up to see his mom for the day. Last minute but it saves me having to pay him a days’ wage,” he said, reaching over to lift the fries from the oil and giving them a shake before dumping them into the bin. “He also told me what happened last night. Said he closed early so he could walk you home.”
Something close to panic seized her chest. She needed this job. Couldn’t support Jason and Riley without it. If Dale fired her… “I’m really sorry,” she said, the words tumbling out of her mouth in a rush. “I know I promised you that hiring me wouldn’t cause you any problems but—”
Dale held up a hand. “Quit your yammerin’, girl. You ain’t done nothing to cause me trouble.” He shook a generous amount of salt onto the hot, greasy fries. “Truth is, I told Tommy anytime he thought you needed it, that he was to close up and get you home safe.”
She stared at him for a moment, unsure of what to say. Tears pricked the corner of her eyes and she swallowed hard in order to clear her throat of the emotion that suddenly gathered there. “Thank you, Dale,” she said, opening her mouth to say more. She could tell him. About Pete. About what she’d found in the woods. Why she’d really been late. He’d believe her. He’d help her. “I—”
“No gettin’ weepy on me, girl,” he said, grabbing a few buns from the bin, splitting them before popping them onto the grill. He shot a look at her purse. “You want to put that in my office?” He knew that she kept a bank account in Marshall. He also knew that this was the first Saturday in weeks that she wasn’t scheduled to work a double shift.
She thought about the wad of cash she had stuffed in it and nodded. “Thanks, Dale,” she said, sliding it off the hook.
He grunted, jerking his chin at her. “Hurry it up—we’re busy and Terri can’t go five minutes without complainin’ about her feet.”
She nodded and hurried into his office to drop her purse in the bottom drawer of his desk. Tommy had gone to see his mother. She lived in Oklahoma somewhere. Tallulah Onewolf called herself a free spirit. Folks in Jessup called her a crazy hippy. So crazy that she’d actually named her half-Apache son, Tomahawk. He’d talked about taking her to meet his mother someday but now…
She pushed the thought aside. Whatever was going on between Tommy and her, whatever happened, there was little she could do about it now.
“Terri’s got the counter today. Only way I can keep her bitchin’ to a minimum,” Dale called after her as she moved through the kitchen. She usually worked the counter and the bank of booths that lined the front of the restaurant while Terri worked the back tables and booths but she didn’t complain. Jed and Wade sat in one of her usual booths, along with Shelley and some other kids from school. The last thing she needed was to deal with that mess.
“Okay,” she said, shooting Dale a smile over her shoulder on her way through the swinging door that connected the dining room to the kitchen. The second she stepped into the dining room, Jed turned his attention on her like he knew she was there. Like he’d been waiting for her.
Dale was right—this was the busiest Saturday they’d had in a while and she was grateful for it. Within seconds, she was lost in the diner’s hectic rhythm. Delivering food and cleaning up spills. Taking orders and refilling coffee cups.
Michael O’Shea was in a booth next to the waitress station—the same place he’d been sitting at the night before. He glanced her way before lifting his cup to his mouth to take a drink. He had a book in his other hand and had obviously been there for a while but she didn’t remember taking his drink order or filling his cup.
“How long have
you been here?” she said, tipping more coffee into his nearly empty cup and he shrugged.
“A while.” He slipped a scrap of paper between the pages of the book in his hand and set it aside to add sugar and cream to his cup. “I got here about the same time you did,” he said, twirling his spoon a few times. He took a testing sip before setting it down.
“I don’t remember seating you,” she said stupidly.
“You didn’t. You looked busy so I sat myself,” he said, looking up at her innocently. “Got my own coffee too.” He cocked his head at the waitress station. “Terri’s cool with it. Keeps me out of her hair.”
There was something about his tone, the way he looked at her. He didn’t scare her the way Jed did. Or give her butterflies like Tommy. When Michael O’Shea looked at her, she felt exposed. Challenged. Like he saw things in her he wasn’t supposed to. That no one else did. For some reason, it made her angry.
“Does Terri also let you loiter?” she bit out, her tone harsher than she intended.
He smirked at her. “Depends on what you consider loitering,” he said before raising his cup.
Her fingers tightened their grip on the coffee pot in her hand. “We’re really busy today. If you’re not going to order anything besides coffee, I’m gonna have to ask you—”
Mischief flickered in his eyes, deepening his gaze from gray to something a few shades darker. “I could go for some pie,” he said before picking up his book.
It wasn’t the words that threw her. It was the way he looked at her when he said them. Like he knew what they meant. Her spine went stiff and from some reason her thoughts bounced back to what she found in the woods.
He shifted his gaze back to the pages of his book. “Pecan. A la Mode. Please,” he said to the page he was reading.
She stood there for a few seconds, unsure of what just happened or how to react. Michael turned the page in his book.
She finally moved. Back to the lunch counter where she ignored the hole Jed was staring into the top of her head while she cut Michael’s pie. His girlfriend sat next to him, clinging to his arm and glaring at her. She didn’t like Shelley much but Melissa was grateful for her. As long as Shelley was around, he’d keep his distance.
“He’s back,” Terri said in a sing-song voice beside her, clipping her own ticket to the wheel. “And he ain’t happy to be havin’ this old bird taking his order.”
“I imagine not,” she said, transferring the piece of pie to a plate before sticking it in the microwave. “But he won’t kick up too much of a fuss with Shelley here.”
Terri laughed, scooping ice into a plastic pitcher. “You heard from Tommy?”
The microwave dinged and she took the pie out, careful to seem uninterested in the other waitress’s question. “Not since last night.” She added the ice cream before picking up the plate. “Do you usually let Michael O’Shea serve himself?”
“You bet your sweet ass I do,” Terri says, filling the pitcher with iced tea. “The kid comes in and seats himself. He’s quiet, gets his own coffee and leaves me a twenty for an eighty-five cent cup of coffee.”
Before she could answer, the bell above the door chimed, signaling a new customer. She looked up to see Chief Bauer walk in with his deputy, Zeke.
This day just kept getting better.
Picking up the plate she carried it, weaving her way between tables toward the back of the diner. “Anything else,” she said, plunking the pie onto the table in front of Michael who barely glanced at her. From the corner of her eye she could see her father and Zeke, take a seat in her station.
“Nope,” he said, digging his fork into the pie’s gooey center.
She shifted from foot to foot, trying to see his face past the book in his hand. Using Map and Compass by Don Geary. “Is that a good book?” she said, stalling. Not wanting to turn around and face her father. Not today.
“Good?” He laughed and turned the page without looking at her. “That’s not a word I’d use to describe it.”
From the corner of her eye, she could see her father, just feet away from where she stood. He was listening to her conversation. “Then why are you reading it?”
“Because it’s required.” He slipped his piece of paper into the book again and set it aside, in favor of the pie she’d set in front of him.
What had he told Tommy yesterday? He’d been accepted into Ranger school. “For the Army?”
Instead of answering her, he took a bite before looking up at her. “Thought you were busy,” he said, smiling up at her around a mouthful of pie.
She jerked back, stung. “I am.” She ripped his ticket off her pad and slid it across the table. “Pay up front when you’re finished.”
He sighed, lowering his fork. “Shit. Wait—”
She turned. Her father usually sat in Terri’s station. Probably to avoid her but today doing so had planted him directly in her path. He and Zeke sat at a table across from Michael’s booth. Zeke looked uncomfortable. Her father looked like he’d swallowed a bug. Getting up and switching sections was out of the question. It would just draw more attention and speculation than usual. He was stuck. They both were.
Snagging a fresh pot of coffee from the waitress station, she made her way over. “Chief Bauer. Deputy Ramsey,” she said, filling their cups. “What can I get you?” Besides a new waitress.
“Hey, Melissa,” Zeke said before shooting his boss a nervous smile. “Tommy working?”
“Dale’s on today—Tommy had to go see his mom,” she said, setting the coffee pot to the side so she could retrieve her order pad.
Her father huffed out a disgusted snort. “Poor excuse for a mama if you ask me,” he said under his breath, face buried in a menu even though he probably had the thing memorized.
“I didn’t,” she said, snapping her father’s attention to her face. “Matter of fact, I don’t remember asking you a damn thing.” She held his gaze, counting to five. She’d never spoken directly to him before—not ever. He was her father. Everyone knew it. Talked about it. Even now she could feel the whole diner poised, waiting to see how things would play out between them.
She looked away from Bauer’s face and found Michael’s aimed at her across the aisle. For some reason, seeing him made it possible for her breathe again.
“You want the usual, Zeke?” she said, shifting her attention to the deputy. He was a regular at her counter when her father wasn’t around and he was always kind to her.
Today was no exception. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, handing her his menu.
She took the menu, tucking it under her arm before turning her smile on her father. “What can I get you, Chief?” she said again, pen poised above her pad.
“Meatloaf. Extra gravy on the potatoes.” He said it to Zeke but held the menu out to her, letting his gaze rest on Michael, lip curling in undisguised disgust before he let his gaze wander back to her face, his expression saying it all. He’d seen her trying to strike up a conversation with Michael and thought she was flirting. That she was trash, just like her mother. She was surprised by how much it hurt, how quick he was to believe the worst in her.
She yanked the menu out of his hand, mouth open to tell him to go to hell but before she could speak, Michael leaned into the aisle, his quiet gaze aimed straight at her father.
“Not to worry, Chief—your daughter wouldn’t piss on me if I were on fire.” He said it loud. Loud enough so that his voice traveled around the diner, killing conversations and drawing stares as it went. “Matter of fact—” He slid out of the booth and stood, reaching into his pocket to pull out his wallet. “The only reason she hasn’t tossed the entire contents of that coffee pot in her hand into my face is the fact that she was raised by one of the sweetest, kindest people I know.” He flipped a bill onto the table before tucking his wallet away while giving her father the same asshole smirk he’d just given her. “And I think we both know I’m not talking about her mother. Or you.”
Michael picked up his book an
d strolled through the dining room, past a few dozen patrons on his way out the door. All of them watching him go, whispering about him and what he’d just done and the girl he’d done it for.
SEVEN
THE REST OF HER SHIFT flew by. Chief Bauer fell back into his habit of ignoring her while he ate, the closest thing he came to speaking to her was a disgruntled nod when she offered to refill his coffee cup. Zeke over compensated by making useless conversation and tipping her twice as much as usual. “Sorry,” he muttered at her, stuffing a wad of bills into her hand before hurrying after his boss.
As soon as he left, Melissa cleared away Michael’s cup and wiped down the table. A one-hundred-dollar bill stared up at her from where he’d tossed it. Who left that kind of tip for a cup of coffee and a piece of pie? Remembering was Terri, she decided he’d accidentally left her a hundred instead of a twenty in his hurry to get away from her. As much as she needed it, she decided she couldn’t keep it and she quickly pocketed the money. She’d give it back the next time she saw him.
Three o’clock found her in the supply closet, doing the weekly inventory for Dale; clipboard in her hand as she counted cans of ketchup. After the lunch rush the diner cleared out, leaving nothing more than and a few road dusty truckers at the counter with Terri and her with nothing to do.
“You better get goin’ if you’re gonna make your bus,” Dale said, poking his head through the door. He had her purse in his hand.
Shit. A quick glance at her watch had her dropping the clipboard on the shelf next to a row of gallon-sized jars of mayo and grabbing for her sweater. “Thanks, Dale,” she said, hurrying as she pulled it on. It was only a few minutes after three but the chances of her making the bus to Marshall were slim. Still, she took her purse from his grip and smiled. “See you tomorrow morning,” she said as she hurried out the back door, slinging her purse over her shoulder.
Waiting In Darkness: A Sabrina Vaughn Thriller (The Sabrina Vaughn Series Book 1) Page 4
