Don't Close Your Eyes

by Christie Craig

  “I’m not offering coffee. A piece of advice. Actually a warning. Probably not a great way to repay a favor.”

  “Okay.” Curious, Mark shouldered back in his chair.

  “That girl who always sits here. Annie Lakes.”

  “Yes.”

  “We’ve become coffee buddies. She lost her father not long ago. I’m kinda standing in for him.”

  “Okay,” Mark said.

  “I’ve been coming here every day since it opened. Since I lost my wife, I spend more hours here than at home. I sit there.” He pointed to the booth. “I read, think about how I can fix my old mistakes, and I people-watch. Actually, I do more than watch—I figure out who’s going to heaven and who’s going to hell.”

  “That’s quite a job.” Mark wondered if the guy wasn’t a few freeways short of a map.

  “For five months, I’ve watched Annie. She’s heaven bound, by the way. After she saw you buying others coffee, she started doing it. I’ve seen her smile and say hello to the grumpiest sour-faced strangers for no reason but to be kind. Once she held a woman’s crying baby so she could order and pay for her coffee. She made paper airplanes for one little guy who was bored because his mom was too busy staring at her phone to pay attention to him. Annie’s got a big heart. I’d hate to see someone break it.”

  Mark’s grip on his cup tightened. “I don’t plan on breaking it.”

  “Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying you don’t have a heart. You bought coffee for a lot of people. But I know you. I know your type.”

  “Do you?” Mark asked, not quite offended, but working up an attitude.

  “I used to be you. Carried a badge for forty-five years. I was pissed at the world, pissed that some of them got away, pissed at the system for letting it happen. I took it out on anyone close to me—women mostly. I was married five times. Divorced four. It took Gertrude before I realized it hadn’t been my exes’ faults. To be honest, it wasn’t even all my fault—not completely. It’s the job. Most guys I worked with were just like me. Unhappy fuckers needing a dog to kick. Gertrude taught me to stop kicking.”

  Somewhere in the talk, Mark had stopped being annoyed.

  The old man looked down at his gnarled hands. Then his faded blue eyes met Mark’s head on. “Maybe you aren’t like me. Maybe it’s not going to take you so long to learn how to stop letting the ugliness affect how you treat people. Perhaps you’re ready to see and appreciate the slice of heaven Annie is. But if you’re not, walk away before you hurt her.”

  The man stood, his stance shaky. He steadied himself with the back of the chair. As he shuffled away, Mark recalled thinking Annie was too good for him. In one quick swoop, he recalled his list of failed relationships and an uncomfortable feeling lodged in his chest. The same feeling he’d gotten last night seeing Bubba drunk and worried Annie had seen him that way.

  Well, shit, this was no way to start a day.

  * * *

  Mark arrived at Coleman Concrete early. But a car was parked at the side of the building.

  The CLOSED sign still faced the door, so he sat gripping the steering wheel, fighting the feeling the old man’s words had brought on. No way in hell was he walking away from Annie. And yet…

  Finally, someone flipped the sign.

  Ready to tackle something less personal, Mark exited his car and walked through the door.

  “Can I help you?” the feminine voice asked at the same time laughter—kids’ laughter—spilled out of the back room.

  He recalled what the old man said about Annie holding a screaming baby and making paper airplanes for a boy. Did Annie want that? The whole white picket fence and 2.3 kids? That certainly wasn’t in Mark’s cards.

  But Jeezus! Why was he thinking about that? They were just getting to know each other.

  He spotted the woman sitting at a desk in the corner. She looked like she belonged in the kitchen baking cookies and not in the dusty concrete office. “I’m Detective Sutton with Anniston PD.” He moved his coat to show his badge.

  Concern tightened her round face. “What can I do for you?”

  He let his coat flutter shut. “Is Mr. Coleman here?”

  “No, he’s in Florida burying his mother and dad. They were killed in a car accident. I’m taking care of his kids.”

  “Sorry to hear about that,” Mark said. “Is the office manager here?”

  “That would be me. Babysitter, manager, sucker who can’t say no to her boss because he’s a decent guy.”

  The laughter in the back turned to bickering.

  “Excuse me.” She went to the door. “No fighting!”

  Mark waited for her to return. “Brian Talbot worked for Mr. Coleman four years ago. Do you have any employee records telling how long he worked here, when and why he left?”

  “That was before I was hired. But we keep the employee records”—she shifted her chair and faced a metal file cabinet—“right here.” She glanced up. “What was that name?”

  “Brian Talbot,” Mark said.

  “Here.” She pulled a file out and opened it. “He worked here for a year.”

  “When was his last day?”

  She turned a page. “On April nineteenth.”

  Talbot’s daughter didn’t go missing until the twenty-first. Brian hadn’t been lying. Mark was surprised, yet he really wasn’t. He’d believed Brian in the beginning. But why had the man acted put off when Mark asked about the job? Something didn’t add up. “Was he fired?”

  “Afraid so.”

  “Does it say why?”

  She glanced down at the file. “No. There’s a space to list the reason, but it wasn’t filled out. Is this man in trouble?”

  She obviously didn’t follow the news. “Not really.” He rubbed the palm of his hand against his chin. “When is Mr. Coleman due back?”

  “Today,” she said.

  Mark got Coleman’s number, but since he was at his parents’ funeral he didn’t plan to call now. “Thank you.”

  Mark was almost to his car when the two noisemakers ran out.

  They yelled out hello. He waved. They had to be siblings with that matching bright red hair. He opened his car door then…stopped.

  He looked at the kids. That would be too damn easy. But damn if he wouldn’t welcome a little easy.

  * * *

  Annie, hiding behind her sunglasses, walked into the coffee shop. Fred, sitting at his booth, smiled, then commenced reading. She glanced around, realized she was searching for Mark, then stopped. Did she want Mark to be here? Would telling him about the memory of Jenny drowning make him doubt her story?

  How could it not when it gave her doubts? What if the dream was wrong? What if she was destroying her relationship with her mom over nothing? But why would her mom lie about her cutting her knee? Why all the secrets? Why was someone threatening her?

  Shit. She needed to stop obsessing over things and believe she’d done the right thing. But believing in oneself was hard when others didn’t.

  She recalled with clarity the time she’d put a pen on the dotted line to sign the form to commit herself. She’d lost her job, her friends, and her fiancé, and the dream had been happening every night. At the last minute, she chickened out.

  It was one thing to watch people you love walk away, but when you questioned your own sanity, that was worse. Before her trip to the park, she’d felt validated. Now?

  Stop. Stop. Stop.

  Inhaling the coffee scent, pushing away from the negative, her thoughts went to Mark. She’d missed him the previous night. Missed sleeping with him. Missed waking up in the darkness and hearing someone else breathing. Missed knowing she could reach out and touch someone. Someone who believed her.

  Two nights sleeping with him and she didn’t want to sleep without him. Mentally, she reached down and pulled up her big-girl panties. Who wanted to be a woman who needed a man to believe in her before she could believe in herself?

  She fake-smiled at James behind the counter and
ordered her coffee.

  As she reached in her purse for her wallet, a voice behind her said, “I got hers.”

  In spite of her concerns, Mark’s voice washed her with warm relief. She turned around and grinned up at the six-foot man with dark hair who, like her, wore shades.

  Fred’s words echoed in her head. She knew what she was hiding, but what was he hiding? Still, she soaked up his smile. “I’ve always wanted to be your good deed for the day.”

  A sexy grin pulled at the creases of his mouth. He leaned down and under his breath whispered, “Wait until tonight.”

  She smiled her most genuine smile of the day, and when she breathed in and caught his spicy male aroma, her senses devoured it. Anticipation purred low in her abdomen.

  They ordered and moved away from the counter and both looked around at the filled tables. Annie saw Fred staring at her over the paper, but he quickly returned to reading.

  “There’s one outside.” He placed his hand on the small of her back. His touch was soft against her skin. Sweet tingles climbed her backbone. It took everything she had to not turn around and fall against his chest. Beg him to hold her. To believe her.

  Yup, she was investing in some elastic for those big-girl panties. They stepped outside. The warm air, probably already in the eighties, brushed over her. Before they sat down, he shifted his chair close to hers. Once seated, he lifted her glasses and frowned. “Bad night?”

  “Yeah.”

  She lifted his glasses. His eyes looked tired, almost haunted. “You?”

  He bypassed her question. “Another nightmare?” He was so good at bypassing, she wondered how many times he’d done it without her noticing.

  “What was it about?” he asked.

  Dread tightened her gut. “I went to the park this morning.”

  His blue eyes rounded. “By yourself?”

  She nodded.

  He frowned. “And?”

  “I had…It was so fast and I’m not sure…”

  He put his hand over hers, his thumb slowly brushed across the top of her hand. “What happened?”

  “I remembered playing in the lake, catching tadpoles. Fran told Jenny not to go out too deep. Then she screamed and went under.”

  Shock filled his expression. “Now you think she drowned?”

  “No. I mean, I don’t…I even…The dream last night lasted longer. A man grabbed me. Fran ran back for me. She protected me.”

  His expression didn’t change. “I’ve heard dreams are seldom accurate.”

  His words ran laps around her heart. “You don’t believe me?”

  “I believe you dreamed it. I’m not sure how much of it is real.” He squeezed her hand. “There’s a guy—”

  “What about the cut on my knee?”

  He let out a tight breath. “I’m not saying everything you dreamed is wrong. I have to look at this, at…all angles.”

  She swallowed disappointment. “One angle being that I’m wrong.”

  “Maybe, but that wouldn’t explain the calls, your place being vandalized, or your missing cousin. So—”

  “But you still think—”

  “I don’t think anything, Annie. I’m looking for the truth. Isn’t that what you want?”

  “Yeah,” she admitted. “I’m sorry, I just don’t like thinking my mind’s feeding me lies.” She looked at his hand over hers. The touch no longer offered comfort.

  “Hey. Look at me.”

  She did.

  “It’s going to be okay. We’re getting to the bottom of this.”

  She nodded.

  “I’m serious. And I’m here for you.”

  Was he? Would there not be a point when he turned his back on her like everyone else?

  He leaned in and peered into the coffee shop, probably checking to see if their coffees were up. “I can’t stay long.”

  She noticed the tension in his shoulders. Had he learned something else? “What’s going on?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You look upset.”

  “Just the case. You want me to pick you up tonight?”

  “No, I’ll drive. Text me your address.”

  “Sure. It might be six before I get home.”

  “Do you want to cancel?” she asked, feeling uncertain about everything.

  “No. Why—”

  “Fine, I’ll see you around six.”

  He placed his palm over hers and studied her. “Any more phone calls?”

  “No.”

  “Good.” He glanced at the crowd. “You still need to keep your guard up.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m serious. When you park anywhere, look around and make sure there are several people around. If not, find a different parking spot.”

  “You’re scaring me,” she said.

  “If scaring you keeps you safe, it’s worth it.” He leaned in to see through the glass door again to check on their order. “They’re up.”

  He left and came out balancing three cups. “I’ll see you tonight. I’m looking forward to it.” There was the sexy smile again. He looked as if he wanted to kiss her. But he didn’t.

  She understood why he wouldn’t. He was a detective. She was a witness. But she could have really used a kiss.

  “I want to kiss you right now, but I shouldn’t,” he said, as if reading her thoughts.

  She recalled her mom seeing him. Her mom knowing Annie was sleeping with him. “Will you get in a lot of trouble if it gets out we’re dating?”

  “It’ll be okay. I’m planning on giving Connor the lead on the case.”

  “But you’ll still—”

  “I’ll work it, but he’ll be the face of the case. See you tonight.”

  She watched him drive away. Seeing several people leaving the shop, she went inside where it was cool.

  She barely got settled when she sensed someone standing beside her.

  Thinking it was Fred, hoping he wasn’t going to say anything negative about Mark, she faced him.

  It wasn’t Fred.

  Annie’s heart stopped, dropped, and rolled. Her mother’s brother, Sam Reed, stood there, a solid, angry mass. His blond hair was cut short. His blue eyes were just like her mom’s, but never had her mom’s looked at her with such contempt.

  Annie’s breath caught. He looked like every little girl’s nightmare.

  But had he been in hers?

  She couldn’t tell.

  “We need to talk.” Was it the same voice in her dream?

  Mark’s words rang in her head. I’m not sure how much of what you dreamed is real. Could she be sure the dreams were right?

  Wasn’t Sam showing up here proof that something had happened? Gathering her shredded self-confidence, she tilted her chin up. “Where’s Fran?”

  Sam looked around as if feeling crowded. “Let’s go for a drive.”

  “No!”

  He reached for her arm. His touch sent panic through her.

  She jerked back.

  “I just want to go somewhere that’s private to talk.”

  She swallowed. “I want to stay where it’s public to talk.”

  His mouth tightened. His thin lips turned white. “I can’t believe you’re hurting your mom like this.”

  She held her shoulders tight. “I can’t believe she lied to me all those years.”

  “You’re imagining things. I’ve heard you do that a lot.”

  Suddenly, angrier than scared, her backbone stiffened. “What happened to Jenny?”

  “We don’t know.”

  “You’re lying.” And right then she believed it with everything she had. She wasn’t imagining things. She wasn’t crazy. Someone had killed Jenny and she’d been a witness to at least some of it.

  “Come on!” He stood and caught her arm again.

  “Let me go!” she seethed, her mind yanking her back to the dream, to someone holding her against her will.

  “Let her go or you’re going to be sorry.”

  Annie
glanced up. Fred’s stance was rigid. For the first time, she saw the police officer in him.

  “Mind your own business!” Sam said, but he let her go. “We’re family.”

  Fred’s shoulders hardened. “I know I’m just an old man, but—”

  “—but he’s not alone.” The woman who always sat in the booth beside Fred stood up.

  “Me too,” said James, the young tattooed cashier. “And I can jump over this counter and whip yo’ ass.”

  Emotion rose in Annie’s throat. Her pretend family was more of a family than she knew.

  Sam lit out the door.

  “You okay?” Fred asked. “Do we need to call the cops?”

  “No.” She didn’t know how to explain so she didn’t. “It’s fine. But thank you.” She grabbed her phone, hit the camera icon, and rushed outside.

  * * *

  Mark, trying to make heads and tails of Annie’s new memory, approached the office. Had this whole case been for naught?

  Juan and Connor looked up as he entered.

  “What?” he asked, reading something in their looks.

  “Brown just left.”

  “And?”

  Connor readjusted in his seat. “He made me lead in the Reed case.”

  “I know.”

  Connor and Juan looked surprised. “You’re not pissed?” Connor asked.

  “I’m still on the case.” If there is one. He lowered himself into his chair.

  “What happened? You don’t think he knows you’re dating a witness, do you?” Juan asked.

  “Yeah. I told him.”

  “Damn, you got balls.” Connor laughed. “And he didn’t toss your ass off the case?”

  Mark set his coffee on his desk. “No.” He pushed that topic aside. “I solved the Reed case.” Nothing helped a bad mood like cracking a case. So why wasn’t he feeling it? Oh, yeah, Annie. The old man and his warning.

  “What?” Juan asked.

  “Maybe not the case, but I know who dumped the body.”

  “Who?” Connor and Juan asked in unison.

  “Gary Coleman, concrete entrepreneur and Brian Talbot’s brother-in-law.” Mark glanced at Juan. “Check if he’s on a sex offender list.” But Mark’s gut said he wasn’t.

  Juan’s fingers went to work. The tap-tap-tap of the keyboard filled the small room.