Why did she feel so intimidated? He'd asked the question in a calm voice-he didn't yell or anything. And it wasn't like he was some big, powerful-looking man. He was about average height, not much taller than Liz.
But there was something about him. If Liz had to pick one word to describe Sheriff Valenti, it would be deliberate. She got the feeling that his every word, his every gesture was calculated. And if he was so careful about what he did and said, he must scrutinize every detail about other people.
Did he notice how wet the floor is? she thought suddenly. Does he wonder why we mopped? It was kind of a bizarro thing to do three seconds after someone tried to shoot at her.
Valenti didn't ask another question. He just stood there.
Did he believe her story? Liz wished she could see the sheriff's eyes. But he hadn't removed his mirrored sunglasses. All she could see in them were reflections of her own face.
"Two guys in that booth over there were having a fight," Maria put in. "One was sort of short but not scrawny, more muscular, and the other one was a big beefy guy."
"That's right!" Liz agreed. "They were fighting about money, I think. Yeah, about money."
You're babbling, Liz told herself. Just slow down. The more you say, the easier it will be for Valenti to catch you in a lie.
Valenti raised one eyebrow. "And then what happened?"
"And then one of the guys-the short one-pulled out a gun. The other guy tried to take it away from him, and the gun went off," Liz answered.
"I'll need to get a description of both of them." Valenti pulled a little notebook out of his pocket.
Liz forced herself to laugh. "Definitely," she said. "The guy with the gun had shaggy brown hair. He was about five-nine, maybe a hundred and eighty pounds."
"Mustache, tattoos, anything like that?" Valenti asked.
"I don't think so." Liz glanced at Maria for help. Dealing with the sheriff was making her nervous.
"I don't remember anything, either," Maria added.
"What about the other guy?" Valenti tapped his pencil against the notebook.
"Taller," Maria answered. "Maybe six-two. And bigger, with a beer belly."
Valenti jotted down notes as Maria continued her description. In a few more minutes he'd be out of there. And Liz could find Max.
"I guess that's it," Valenti said. "I just have one more question-where's the bullet hole?"
The bullet hole? Oh, my God, Liz hadn't thought of that. "Uh, it must be in the wall." She turned around and pretended to search for it.
Valenti leaned across the counter. "Don't see anything," he said.
Liz could feel his breath against her ear. He was giving her the creeps. Valenti has no way of knowing you're lying, she reminded herself. She turned back to face him and shrugged. "Maybe I was so freaked out when I saw the gun, I just imagined it went off."
"Well, the mind can play tricks on you-especially when you're under stress," Valenti answered.
Yes, he's buying it, Liz thought.
"But your father heard the gunshot, too," Valenti commented. "And so did the, woman who called in to report the shot."
I didn't think of that, either. I'm totally losing it, Liz realized. I have to just shut up. "I don't know what to tell you," she said. "Do you mind if I go clean up? This ketchup is really sticky."
"Go ahead," Valenti answered. "I know where to find you if I have any more questions."
"Come on, Maria." Liz grabbed her by the arm and pulled her over to the ladies' room. She led the way inside and shut the door behind them.
Liz scooped her hair up and gathered it into a big Pebbles Flintstone ponytail on the top of her head. She reached into her pocket, pulled out a scrunchie, and used it to anchor the ponytail in place. Somehow she could always think better when all her hair was out of her face. Stupid, but true.
Maria rolled out a long sheet of brown paper towel and held it under the cold water. Then she wrung it out and handed it to Liz. "So, do you want to tell me why you lied to Valenti and everyone else?" she asked.
Liz froze with the paper towel halfway to her stomach. She could feel water dripping onto her shoes. "I wasn't lying," she answered, but her voice sounded high and fake.
Maria looked at her for a long moment. "Yeah, right." She pulled a dish towel out of the side pocket of her uniform. "The red stuff on this isn't ketchup. It's blood. Your blood, Liz. I was holding the cloth over your stomach, and I felt the blood soaking into it."
Her voice cracked. Tears glistened in her eyes. "I pressed down as hard as I could, but it wouldn't stop. You were dying, Liz. I was watching you die."
Liz grabbed the edge of the sink with both hands. She suddenly needed help standing up. When Max asked her to lie for him, Liz had just turned off her emotions and done what he wanted. It was like she had formed a big glass bubble around herself, keeping all the fear out so she could deal with her father, the paramedics, and Sheriff Valenti.
But Maria's words blasted a hole in the bubble. I almost died, Liz thought. The words repeated themselves in her head again and again. She sank down to the floor and leaned against the wall.
Maria sat down next to her. She wrapped her arm around Liz's shoulders. "It just hit you, didn't it?"
"Yeah," Liz admitted. Her throat stung, and her eyes filled with tears.
"So tell me."
Liz pulled in a long, hitching breath. "Max healed me. It's impossible, but he did. I heard you screaming. You sounded really far away. Then I guess I blacked out or something."
It felt good to say it out loud. It made her feel less crazy. "The next thing I remember is feeling hands pressed against my stomach. Warm hands," Liz continued. "That's all I felt-no pain or anything. I looked up, and I saw Max."
"Wow. I just… wow. He saved your life."
"Yeah, he did," Liz answered. But she didn't quite believe it. It was like a dream or something, seeming less real with every passing second. How could Max have healed a gunshot wound? "He told me to lie. He said he'd explain everything-then he disappeared."
The smell of ketchup mixed with drying blood wafted up from Liz's uniform. She felt a wave of nausea. She stood up and soaked another paper towel, scrubbing frantically at her uniform until the towel started to fall apart.
Maria joined Liz in front of the mirror. She wiped her eyes and gave a shaky laugh. "This is supposed to be waterproof mascara."
"I don't think they've invented tear-proof stuff yet." Liz tore off a strip of paper towel and handed it to Maria.
Maria's eyes widened. She leaned toward Liz. "Liz, you shouldn't even bother trying to get the ketchup out," she said, pointing to the fabric. "You'll have to burn that uniform or something. Look."
Liz looked down and saw a small round hole in the cloth. She felt her stomach turn over. That's where the bullet had gone in. That's the bullet hole Valenti had been hoping to find-and only some blobs of ketchup kept him from spotting it.
"You're right," Liz said slowly. "I have to burn this. And that cloth, too." She took the blood-soaked dish towel out of Maria's hand.
Maria kept staring at the bullet hole.
"I can't believe there was really a bullet inside my body." Liz wrapped her hands protectively across her stomach.
"Move your hands a second," Maria said. "There's something weird. It's like your skin is shining."
Liz lowered her hands. The patch of skin underneath the little hole did look kind of strange-almost silvery. What was going on?
She slowly unzipped the front of her uniform. When she looked down at her stomach, she began to feel light-headed.
This wasn't happening. None of this could be happening.
But there, on her stomach, were two iridescent handprints. Melded with her flesh. Max's handprints.
Isabel Evans pulled out her top dresser drawer and tossed the contents into the center of her bed. Okay: lips, eyes, skin, nails, scent, she thought. She snatched up every lipstick, lip gloss, lip balm, and lip pencil she saw and piled them in the upper-right-hand corner of her mattress.