Dale seemed about to say something else, but Abbey stepped in front of him. "Did you need something, Dale?"
Dale gave Matt one last hard look, then turned back to Abbey. "Just wanted to let you know they found another one. Over at Black Creek. Same as the others."
Abbey gasped. Apparently, she hadn't seen the police cars or heard the sirens this morning. Matt had, but then again, Matt didn't sleep much these days.
"Who?" she asked.
Dale's eyes fell to his boots, and right away Matt knew that whoever the victim was, Abbey wasn't going to like it.
"It was Eloise," Dale said finally.
"Stinnet?" Abbey asked. "Jim's wife?"
Dale nodded.
"Well, ain't that a fucking trick!" Abbey yelled. "She accuses me of sleeping with him, and then she turns up dead. Is that why you're here, Dale? To arrest me? You know I never laid a finger on either one of them. I'd rather fuck a porcupine with no lubricant."
"Damn it, Abbey. Don't you know me better than that by now?" Dale's eyes were earnest, even a bit moist, as though the big fellow might start leaking any minute.
Matt took a step back, wanting to fade into the background. He shouldn't be part of this discussion. It felt like he was intruding, somehow.
Dale noticed him and straightened his expression, clearing his throat as he did. "I just wanted to let you know, Abbey. Folks're liable to start talkin' again. I wanted you to be prepared."
Abbey took a long, deep breath, and then her lips split into a wan smile. "Of course. Thanks, Dale. I appreciate it."
"You're welcome." Just then, Dale's radio crackled, and a woman's voice called him back to the station. She sounded like an older lady who'd spent most of her life a smoker. Dale thumbed the volume down and gave Abbey one more look, then turned to go. He paused when his eyes settled on Matt again. "You know, Abbey, if you need to talk to someone... about anything... you can call me."
"I know," she replied. "Thanks, Dale. I've got work to do, though."
"Of course," Dale said. "Be careful." Even though he spoke to Abbey, his eyes never left Matt's face. "See you later."
With that, the tall country policeman turned his back on the two and strode out the door. The tinny ring of the bell followed him out.
"Nice guy," Matt said. "Friend of yours?" Matt couldn't help but notice the looks that Dale kept giving Abbey, but she hadn't returned them. For some reason, Matt very much wanted to know what the cop's position in her life was.
"Ex-husband," she replied.
"Sorry to hear it."
Abbey sighed. "Not as sorry as he was." She let out a deep breath and shook her head. Then she turned to face Matt. "Well Matt, you've already seen more in this town than you bargained for, I'll bet."
Matt just shrugged. How could he explain the things he'd seen? How could he tell her about his death? Or Mr. Dark? Maybe he should tell her how he'd been forced to shoot his best friend to keep him from murdering that asshole Silbert. Or about how, ever since he died, he had been able to actually see evil in people, which manifested as a rotting, festering sore that spread across the person's skin like leprosy. Ha! Fat chance! If he tried to tell her about himself, about how he was chasing across the country after a mysterious evil "man" that no one else could see, he'd lose the job and probably get locked up in a mental ward. Hell, a run-of-the-mill serial killer seemed more normal than anything in his life. At least since his wife died.
The thought struck him as a pretty sad indictment.
"So when do we start?" he asked.
CHAPTER THREE
Matt loaded the last box into the storage shed, setting it on top of another box with an audible grunt. The fucking thing was heavy! He wiped the sweat from his forehead with a damp towel, then stuck the tip of the towel into his back pocket.
"That's the last one," he said. "Should we do another load?" They'd been at it for seven hours, stopping only for a quick lunch at McDonald's, which seemed to be the only fast food restaurant in town, but so far they had managed to move about two thirds of the inventory from the store to the storage unit.
"No," Abbey replied. "It's almost six o'clock. We'll pick up again tomorrow. Right now I just want to eat something, then go to bed." She groaned as she bent sideways, stretching her abdominal muscles. Matt had been expecting to shoulder most of the work himself, but she surprised him. Abbey stayed with him the entire day, lifting, moving, and hauling just as much as Matt. If the soreness in his back— and Matt had spent a lifetime chopping wood— was any indication, she must be beat, too.
"Dinner sounds great," he said, wiping his hands on his jeans. "Any good places to eat around here?"
"A few," she replied, a hint of a smile on her lips.
"What? What are you smiling about?"
"You're about to ask me out, aren't you?"
Matt stared, his mouth slightly open. "I...uh..."
"Don't worry, Matt. I don't bite." She stepped down from a box of antique clocks and winked. "But if you're going to buy me dinner, you might want to ask me for a raise. I know how much you make, remember?"
"Oh?"
"At ten dollars an hour, I doubt you can afford me."
Abbey turned and walked out of the storage room, jingling the keys to the box truck in her hands. "And wash up first. Use the shower at the back of the store. I hope you have your own shampoo in that duffel, or else you're going to spend the evening smelling like Cucumber-Melon Suave."
Matt smiled. "I do. I even have some deodorant."
"Great," Abbey said through the window of the truck. "I'll pick you up at eight."
"It's a date," Matt replied.
It wasn't until she started the engine that he remembered she was his ride back to the store.
The truck started to pull out of the parking lot. "Oh, shit," he said, and took off at a run, trying to reach the door before she drove away. "Abbey, wait!"
# # #
At a tiny restaurant called Malloy's in downtown Crawford, Matt and Abbey sat outside in patio-style plastic chairs, enjoying the cool evening air after a sweaty day. She had picked him up at eight, as promised, in a white Ford van with the "Abbey's Antiques" logo painted on the sides. Matt had asked if she was going to repaint the van now that she was closing the store, and she'd laughed and asked if he did auto-body work as well as moving and sawing. Her laughter reminded him again of Janey, and he'd had to force her out of his mind for the rest of the drive.
The waitress brought over a fresh pitcher of Miller Draft and a pair of frosty mugs, just the thing to wash down a very dry burger and some greasy fries. He poured a mug for Abbey, then one for himself, and set the pitcher in the middle of the table.
"Thanks," Abbey said, smiling. She must have take a moment to freshen up before she left her house, because she once again smelled of her rosy perfume. She wore a thin white blouse and tight jeans again, much the same look as she had all day long. The only difference was this time, her hair wasn't shoved under a bandana and she'd gone to the trouble of putting on her makeup. The sandals on her feet bore three-inch heels that emphasized the shapely curve of her calves, which Matt couldn't help but notice. Abbey certainly had all the right curves in all the right places. He could see why Dale didn't want to let her go.
"You're welcome." He took a swig of his beer. The cold liquid flowed into his throat, but didn't do much to cool him off. "So you were married, huh? To a cop, no less."
"Do you always bring up failed relationships on a first date?" Abbey asked.
He leaned back in his chair, a hint of a smile on his lips. "I'm a bit out of practice," he conceded.
"Oh? Are you divorced, too?"
A mental snapshot popped into Matt's mind. A resort in Cozumel, not long after his wedding. Palm trees swayed gently in the breeze as Janey lay on a towel at the pool. The only thing separating her skin from the air was a thin red bikini she'd picked up the week before, and even then her nipples poked through the fabric, drawing his eyes right to them. She held a frozen drink in her hand. On the side of the glass that touched her lips, the salt had worn away, but he could still taste it if he licked his lips. Her kiss had tasted like margaritas that day.