Then his grip tightened on her again, almost hard enough now to make her cry out.
'You're lying the old man shouted. 'He's out there! I can see him! He's been followin' me for days!'
From the corner of her eye, Liz watched Michael slip from the kitchen through the door beside the pass- through window. Michael took his apron off, balled the garment up, and tossed it to the floor behind him as he started for Wilkins.
'Swanson!' Wilkins brayed in his hoarse voice. 'You're not gonna get me! All that business that we done between us, all of that's over with! You're dead!'
Dead? Liz's mind flipped and spun. Wilkins is talking to a ghost?
Michael reached for Wilkins. The old man still wasn't aware of Michael standing there. Before Michael's hand fell on Wilkins's shoulder, a cloud of swirling debris… fast-food containers and cups, newspapers, and bits and pieces of unidentified matter… rose up from the street.
Liz didn't think the swirling wind was too strange. Dust devils were a common occurrence out in the desert. But she'd never seen one that grew the way the dust devil in front of the Crashdown Cafe grew. In the space of a few heartbeats the dust devil increased in size large enough to cover the cafe's front door and most of the glass window that looked out onto the street.
Liz glanced at Michael, wondering why he wasn't doing something about Wilkins. Instead, Michael had frozen in place, watching the front of the cafe.
What does he see? Liz asked herself. There was no doubt that Michael saw something. She stared hard through the glass, turning most of her attention from Wilkins, ignoring the pain in her shoulders.
All she saw were papers swirling in midair. Some of them slapped against the glass of the door and the window, creating eerie tapping noises, the kind she'd heard on sound tracks of cheesy horror movies. A silvery glimmer sparked out on the street, something that raced in between the traffic. But the glimmer was gone before Liz could be certain she'd even seen it.
In the next instant the dust devil slammed against the front of the cafe. Glass shattered as the windows gave way before the assault.
'NOOOO!' Wilkins shouted, yanking Liz backward. He stumbled and almost fell, only maintaining his balance because Liz kept hers.
Michael launched himself into action, stepping forward and grabbing one of Wilkins's arms. He tore the panicked old man's hand from Liz's shoulder, then spun her out of her captor's grip.
'Noooo!' Wilkins howled, raising both arms in front of him. The wind caught up to him, ripping his cowboy hat from his head. 'Don't, Swanson! Don't do… ' His frightened plea ended in a sudden detonation of thunder.
A white-hot spark filled the cafe for just a moment. Liz felt the heat of the lightning strike… if that was what it was… but only on her face and one arm because Michael turned her so that he could shield her with his body. Thunder rolled and echoed inside the cafe.
The explosion of light left dark shadows floating in Liz's vision. She barely made out the regular customers and tourists hiding at the rear of the cafe and under the tables.
'Are you all right?' Michael asked.
'Yeah,' Liz said. 'I think so.' Her ears hurt, and a headache had formed behind her eyes. She extricated herself from Michaels protective grip.
Leroy Wilkins lay sprawled on the ground. A dark crimson blush stained his features, spreading out along on his hands and arms as well.
Michael retreated from Liz and knelt on the floor by the old prospector. Michael started to reach for Wilkins's wrist like he was going to check the man's pulse. While he was doing that, several of the cafe's patrons made a quick exit through the door.
Without warning, Wilkins reached up and grabbed Michael's shirt. Startled, obviously a little freaked out by the experience, Michael jerked back and slapped the old man's hands away.
Wilkins gasped and fell back. His mouth worked hard, opening and shutting like a fish out of water. Then he began to shake and shiver the whole length of his body.
'What's wrong with him?' Liz asked, standing behind Michael.
'It went into him,' Michael answered.
'What went into him?'
Michael didn't answer.
'You saw it? Liz asked.
Michael hesitated, then he nodded.
For a moment Liz was halfway expecting something to burst out of Wilkins. If something had gone into the old man, maybe now it wanted out. Before she knew she was moving, she stepped back as Michael continued to watch the old man's body jerk and writhe.
'Somebody call nine-one-one!' a man yelled. 'Can't you see he's having a heart attack?'
'You know, if I didn't know we were hiding out from your parents, I'd think you were ashamed to be seen in public with me.'
A twinge of apprehension rocketed through Isabel Evans, but the feeling was anchored by guilt. She'd never hidden anything from her parents. Well, except for the development of the powers that came with her alien genetics. But now she was hiding possibly the biggest secret she'd had in her life. Not even Max knew. That was pretty bizarre, because she'd never hidden anything from Max, and he'd never been able to hide anything from her since they were kids. But since Tess had left with the baby, Max had had his hands full with his own problems.
And the guy sitting across from her had been totally unexpected, and had so totally knocked her off her feet. She glanced at Jesse Esteban Ramirez seated across the public picnic table. 'I'm not ashamed.'
Jesse was tall and dark, and extremely handsome. He wore slacks and a dress shirt. His tie was back in his car. Leaning back on the concrete bench, Jesse waved his half-eaten sub sandwich at the desolate surroundings. 'The picnic was a good idea.'
'I'm glad you think so,' Isabel replied. 'But?…'
Jesse took another bite of his sandwich. His white teeth flashed. 'Why do you think there has to be a 'but? Suspicious mind?'
'On the contrary,' Isabel said. 'The question came from a trained and orderly mind.'
Jesse blotted his mouth with a paper napkin. 'There are no 'buts.''
'I beg to differ. There was a telling absence.'
One of Jesse's eyebrows rose in perplexion, arching over a dark, deep orb. Isabel had discovered his gaze to be magnetic, a well that she could gaze into and always find something new and different.
'An absence?' Jesse asked.
'Oh yes.'
'And what would this alleged absence be?' Jesse plucked a grape from the bunch Isabel had packed in the picnic basket.
'A decent segue,' Isabel told him.
Jesse munched on the grape and appeared to give her accusation his full attention. 'Between you possibly being ashamed of me and the fact that the picnic was a good idea?'
'Between your halfhearted attempt to assign guilt for our circumstances and rudimentary effort at changing the subject.'
Jesse waved at the empty space around them. When he spoke, his voice was serious. 'The picnic is a great idea, Isabel… don't get me wrong. And the food is fantastic. I didn't know you could cook so well.'
'It's just sandwiches, potato salad, fruit, and macaroni and cheese,' Isabel protested. 'Not exactly a true culinary feat. Or even a balanced meal.' She felt bad about that, but she'd been in a rush and hadn't had time to run to the store for other items. Brown bagging for one didn't attract too much attention at home, but packing food for two in a rather nifty-looking picnic basket… if she had to say so herself… was a definite giveaway.
'I know, but with you making the meals for these lunches, I don't feel like I'm doing my part.'
'What part would that be?'
'The taking-you-out-to-dinner-for-a-good-meal-in-Roswell part,' Jesse said.
Smiling, Isabel touched the single red plastic rose in the glass vase between them on the table. The blossom clashed with the red-and-white checked tablecloth she'd brought, but she didn't mind too much. 'You brought the
