…“Dessert, hon?”
The waitress sidled back over to him, and Roy realized he was her only
customer.
“Sure. What do you
have?”
She rattled off a
series of pies and cakes. He chose apple pie with a scoop of ice cream, and she
left with his dinner plate. Roy slumped against the chair. He had to keep
going. No choice. Not really. A good night’s sleep, coupled with the first
adequate meal he’d had in a couple days might make a big difference in his
attitude. At least he hoped they would.
He’d just begun on
the pie, which had a surprisingly flaky crust, when a rush of cold air yanked
his attention toward the door. A tall woman walked in. Long, dark hair caked
with snow swirled around her, and she held her body tightly as if she were
really cold. Roy glanced at her feet and was shocked to see a pair of tennis
shoes with holes in them. Good God, had she been outside with such inadequate
footwear? Didn’t she understand she could freeze to death? Even his stout boots
didn’t do much to divert the cold.
Keeping her gaze
downcast, she made her way to the counter and sat.
“Coffee, hon?” The
waitress asked.
“How much is it?”
the woman inquired.
“Two bucks.”
“Oh.” The woman’s
shoulders drooped, and she swiveled the stool around, getting ready to go back
out into the storm.
“No, you don’t.”
The waitress’s voice sharpened. “I’ll stand you a coffee. You look about done
in.”
The woman’s even
features melted into what looked like relief before she turned back to face the
counter. “Thank you. That’s really kind and I appreciate it. My wallet was
stolen, and—”
“Never you mind.”
The waitress patted the woman’s shoulder. “Bet you’re hungry too.” She poured
hot coffee into a mug and handed it to the woman, who drew the steaming liquid
to her lips.
“Maybe a little,” the woman ventured. She
clasped the cup with fingers white from cold.
By now, Roy knew
he was staring, but he couldn’t make himself turn away. There was something
waiflike and alluring about the tall woman with long, black hair. Snow dripped
off her, creating puddles around her stool. All she wore against the winter
weather was a thick, gray sweater and worn jeans. No scarf. No gloves. No hat.
He was close to certain her wallet hadn’t been stolen. She looked more like an
abuse victim on the run to him. Maybe he could help her get to her intended
destination, if it wasn’t too far out of his way.
He pushed his
chair back and made his way to the counter. “Say—” he began, but she started
and drew away as if she expected him to hit her.
I was right. Abuse
victim for sure.
“I’m not going to
hurt you.” He kept his voice low, soothing. “Order whatever you want, and I’ll
pay for it.”
She kept her gaze
on her hands clutching the coffee cup. “I can’t let you do that, sir. I’m all
right. Truly I am.”
Without waiting
for an invitation, he took the stool next to hers and called to the waitress.
“Bring her the same meal I just had.”
“You got it, hon,”
rang from the direction of the kitchen.
“You are not all
right,” Roy said. “You’re thin as a rail, and you were shivering when you came
in here. In fact, you still are. I’ll bet your shoes are wet clear through.”
When she didn’t respond, he ploughed on. “Let me help you.”
She shook her
head. “Don’t want your kind of help. It always comes with strings.”
“Mine doesn’t.”
He pushed a little
with his enhanced mental ability to get her to look at him. If she did, maybe
she’d see truth in his eyes. A shudder ran down her thin frame, but she dragged
her gaze upward reluctantly. Roy felt bad for forcing her, but he didn’t have
time to soothe her wounded places, which he suspected ran deep.
Eyes a shade of
green he’d never seen inspected him. Long, thick lashes framed those eyes, and
they were set in a face with high cheekbones, a high forehead, and black
eyebrows winging a track over porcelain skin.
“Who are you?” The
words tore from him. He hadn’t meant to say them. She was nervous as a feral
cat as it was.
She shook her head
sadly. “No one. I’m no one. You’ll forget all about me when you leave here.”
Something shifted
in his mind, but he fought it. Before he could determine if something real had
just happened or if he were imagining things, the waitress showed up with the
woman’s dinner.
“Here you go, hon.
Hope medium’s okay for that steak?”
“Fine, thank you.”
Before the words were out, the woman picked up the fork and knife and shoveled
food into her mouth.
Roy congratulated
himself on a good call. Even though she’d been reluctant to admit it, she
really was starving. He had no idea what she’d do tomorrow or the next day, but
it wasn’t his problem. While she ate, he observed her from the corner of his
eyes. In addition to being hungry and underdressed, she looked young. Maybe
twenty. He’d be surprised if she were much more than that.
He shook a mental
finger at himself. The country was full of abused women running from the men
who used them as punching bags before they raped them. It was one part of law
enforcement work he’d never understood: why the women kept going back for more.
“There are safe
houses for girls like you,” he said, and could’ve kicked himself. What the hell
was wrong with his mouth tonight? He couldn’t seem to keep words on the other
side of it.
She stopped
chewing long enough to glance at him. “What’s a safe house?”
“A place where
women like you can go so whoever’s after you can’t get to you.”
“What makes you
think someone’s after me?” Color splotched across her white cheeks.
Roy took a deep
breath. “I was a cop for a long time.”
Her entire body
tightened, and he wondered if he’d been wrong about why she was out in the
storm. “You said was.” She swiped a paper napkin over her lips. “Are you
still?”
“No. Not anymore.”
She took another
bite, clearly thinking about what he’d said. “These people you think are after
me. Could they still find me in a safe house?”
He wanted to lie
to her, but didn’t. “Sure. Anyone can find anybody with the Internet and all,
but the people who run the safe houses won’t let anyone who might hurt you
inside.”
She drew her
arched brows together and drank some coffee. “I’d have to go outside sometime.
Work. Earn my way.”
He nodded. Those
things were all true. He scratched his head and pushed too-long hair out of his
eyes. “Sometimes, when a man is really persistent, there are ways of setting
you up with a different identity in a different part of the country.”
Interest lit her
features, and she cut up the last of her steak. “Where would I go to have that
happen?”
“I’m not sure, but
we could check with local agencies in the morning.”
A blank expression
washed over her face, as if someone had shut out a light. She shot him a look
she might have given yesterday’s overripe trash. “Morning, huh? You’re just
like all the rest of them, mister. Means I’d have to spend the night with you.”
Roy winced. He
hadn’t been thinking. Of course she’d make that connection. “No.” He shook his
head emphatically. “I’d buy you your own room for the night. You can clean up,
get some sleep, and we’ll regroup in the morning after breakfast.”
She narrowed her
eyes, and he felt himself drawn into their depths. “My own room with a locked
door?”
He nodded
solemnly, willing her to believe him. If he could just do one decent deed, it
would make up for the last two weeks of beating his head into a brick wall.
Maybe it would give him enough juice to keep hunting for the scientists who
were a bunch of Houdini fuckers.
“Mmph.” She
started on her potato, taking large bites. In between them, she said. “I’m
trying to figure out your angle. If I’ve worked my way around to believing you
won’t hurt me by the time I’m done eating, I’ll accept your offer.”
It was the best he
was likely to get. Roy stood. “Fair enough. I’m going to finish my pie.” It was
sitting in a pool of melted ice cream, but he didn’t mind. “If you’d care to
accept my help, just stop by my table on your way out. If you walk past, I give
you my word I won’t bother you.”
“Deal.” She said
around a mouthful of food. Swallowing, she twisted to look at him.
It felt as if she
were staring straight through him, but Roy held his ground even after he
identified a zing of power withdrawing from his mind. What the hell was she,
anyway? When she returned to her dinner, he retreated to his pie, thoughts
racing a mile a minute. What the fuck was he doing? If he were smart, he’d
forget his offer, throw enough money on the table to cover both meals, and run
like hell for his car.
There was
something about the woman, though, an appeal that drew him, snared him, and
wouldn’t leave him be. He ate mindlessly, not tasting the pie. He knew the feel
of freak mind control. Was that it? Had he inadvertently stumbled onto one of
them?
Impossible.
They’re never by themselves, and whatever she examined me with didn’t feel
quite right.
Plus, she didn’t
resemble the ones he’d killed before. They had dark hair, but animal eyes.
Amber, not green like hers. Of course they’d been men, but simple genetics
argued they’d all look much the same if they came out of the same petri dishes.
Were there other
augmented humans beyond those he already knew about? The thought fascinated and
chilled him at the same time.
He scraped his
fork over the plate and realized it was empty. Slugging back long-since-cold
coffee, he dug for his wallet and extracted what he was certain would cover
dinner, laying bills on the table and placing his empty mug atop them.
The woman looked
almost done with her meal. What would she do?
What would he do
if she walked by him and out the door? Would he be able to keep his promise and
not go after her?…
Flame Crown by Kay L Moody
