the head majorette.
The pay phone on the wall near the bathrooms rang. The older waitress, Doris, finished filling his cup, set down the coffeepot and went to answer.
Clint could make out only a few words of her end of the conversation-“doctor” and “prescription”-but not much else. However, the furrow in Doris’s brow deepened as she talked to whoever was on the other end of the line, piquing his curiosity. He was tempted to feign a trip to the bathroom to get close enough to hear more, but she hung up before he could make a move and returned to the counter to check on the younger waitress’s progress.
Boyd Jameson returned from the cashier’s desk and glanced up and down the lunch counter, looking for any errors in the waitresses’ work. Doris came back to the counter and poured coffee for a pair of big-rig drivers at the end of the counter.
Jameson made a grumbling noise but the bell over the front door distracted him. “Customers,” he barked.
Doris was already untying her apron. “Sorry, Boyd. My shift ended at one. Let Alice get it. She’s good with the customers. Here’s my ticket pad.” Doris handed him the order book and disappeared into the back of the diner, leaving Boyd to bark a terse order at a nervous young waitress, who scurried off to seat the new arrivals.
Boyd looked Clint’s way, his scowl disappearing and his game face appearing. “More coffee, sir?”
“I’m good,” Clint said, his mind still on Doris and the mysterious phone call. “You know, I was hoping I’d find that dark-haired girl working here today-curly brown hair, freckles, kind of thin-”
“That’s Jane. She doesn’t work here anymore.”
Clint looked at the restaurant manager, contemplating his options. If he was going to find her anytime soon, he needed to start making alliances.
He pulled out his business card and handed it to Jameson. The restaurant manager’s eyebrows arched upward.
“Clint Holbrook,” he said to Jameson. “Call me Clint. I’m looking for the woman you call Jane Doe. She’s wanted for murder in Wyoming and other crimes back East. And I think your friend Doris might know where she is.”
Gone to get more supplies. Don’t worry-I’ll be back.
JOE STARED at Jane’s neatly penned note and cursed. He should have handcuffed her to the bed spindles when the thought had first occurred to him.
At least this time she’d left his gun behind, safely tucked into its holster on the bedside table.
He pushed himself to his feet, struggling with a wave of dizziness and nausea. He waited for it to pass before he went to the bathroom.
After relieving himself, he moved to the narrow sink and turned on the tap. He splashed cold water on his hot face and looked up at his reflection in the mirror. His face was ashen, dark circles purpling the skin beneath his bloodshot eyes. He looked as bad as he felt, and that was saying something.
He touched the bandage on his side, wincing as the cloth pulled against the ragged wound. How had he managed to get himself into such a helpless state, forced to depend on the whims of a woman he didn’t trust with his dog, much less his life?
He wandered around the bedroom, gritting his teeth against the pain. Pain he could handle. But he couldn’t afford weakness. And if he kept lying around here, giving in to the injury, he wouldn’t be prepared to deal with whatever danger Jane Doe was about to bring into his life with her latest stunt.
He knew all too well that where Jane went, trouble followed.
JANE SLUMPED in the front seat of the Silverado outside the Fill-Mor gas station on Route Five, trying not to draw attention. She had a long wait; the station was at least an hour from Trinity, and it would take a little while for Doris to get her doctor to call in the antibiotics prescription.
She’d already passed the time by using some of her dwindling cash reserves to stock up on food and first-aid supplies, but after a while, she’d realized she could loiter inside the food mart only so long before people started to notice her.
She didn’t like being away from Joe this long. It wasn’t likely that he’d sleep the whole time. And while she’d left him a note, she’d been deliberately vague about where she was going. She knew that would worry him. But knowing exactly what she was doing would worry him more.
She closed her eyes a moment and took a couple of deep breaths through her nose to calm her rattled nerves. The scent of leather mingled with another scent-dark, rich, masculine. The smell stirred a memory, the feel of Joe’s hands on her face, the touch of his lips on hers, tender yet demanding.
They’d known each other before Idaho, back in a place called Canyon Creek, Wyoming. That kiss the night before had proved that their relationship had been far more complex than she’d previously believed.
But did she really want to know just how complex?
She rubbed her gritty eyes, regretting the sleepless night. Whether she liked it or not, she and Joe were being hunted by a man who’d already proven he was capable of cold-blooded murder. And she suspected he had a big advantage over them.
He knew who she really was.
She closed her eyes against the glare of sunlight reflecting off the plate-glass windows at the front of the food mart, and tried to settle her chaotic mind. For five months, she’d lived second to second, afraid to be still for fear that she’d finally start remembering something. Angie had always found that sentiment strange-not wanting to remember? But Angie didn’t live with the bone-deep certainty that her past was something she wanted to escape, not uncover.
Nothing that had happened to her over the past few days had done anything to change her mind about that.
But she couldn’t run away anymore. Her past was the danger now. She had to figure out a way to unlock the door to where her memories lay, or she and Joe might not get out of this mess alive.
An image flashed through her mind without warning. A man’s face. Not the blue-eyed man she’d seen in her apartment but someone a little older, with thick black hair streaked at the temples with silver. He was handsome, but his dark eyes were shifty and restless, moving constantly.
Full of secrets.
A loud rapping noise jerked her upright. Jane snapped her eyes open, squinting against the glare, and almost wilted with relief when she saw Doris Bradley’s warm eyes looking at her through the truck window.
Doris stepped back, giving her room to open the door of the truck. Jane hugged the older woman, grateful for a friendly face. “Thank you so much for this, Doris. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”
Doris handed her the small white bag. Inside, Jane could hear pills rattling. “I wish you could tell me what’s going on,” Doris said.
“I promise, one day I’ll tell you everything.” Jane put the bag in the truck and turned back to Doris. “How much did this cost you?”
Doris waved it off. “Not enough to worry yourself about. You’re not hurt, are you? Or sick?”
Jane shook her head, averting her gaze from Doris’s.
She could see the curious questions in Doris’s eyes, but to her relief, the older woman didn’t ask them aloud. Jane couldn’t have answered them, anyway. She’d already put Doris in enough danger as it was.
Doris gave Jane another swift hug. “Call me if you need anything, okay?”
“I will,” Jane said, although she knew she couldn’t put Doris in the middle of her mess again. “Listen-you be careful driving back, okay?”
There were so few things in her life that felt familiar or comfortable, and watching one of them drive away felt like the ground shifting beneath her feet.
She climbed into the truck and buckled her seat belt, looking at the pharmacy bag on the seat beside her. She hoped it was worth the effort Doris had made-and the hell she’d catch from Joe when she returned to the cabin.
THE DOOR to the cabin swept open before she even stepped onto the porch. Joe filled the doorway, his hair mussed and his eyes blazing. “I suppose I should be glad you left the gun behind this time.”
She stopped on the top step, gauging his mood. Angry but not spitting fire. It could be worse. “Didn’t want to leave you unprotected.”
He looked at the plastic bags she held in both hands. “Shopping couldn’t wait?”
