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“So, um, if you have a few things, then you can go with me a second time to pick out more clothing.”
“I’ll pay you for everything of course.”
Everyone had their pride, and I wouldn’t do anything to strip any of his away. The ground underneath it had to be shaky already.
“I’ll let you know what this morning’s run costs, and you can pay me when it’s convenient.” For all I knew, he had nothing to his name. I wasn’t going to squeeze him to get back sixty dollars or whatever I put out this morning. “I should be back before the quiche is done.” I took another swallow of coffee and grabbed my purse and keys off the counter.
“My waist is thirty-four,” he said. “Inseam thirty-eight. Jeans maybe and a few t-shirts in extra-large?”
“All right.”
“Shoe size eleven.” His voice softened. “I’d offer to go with you if I could.”
“I know you would.” I turned back to the door. “Once you have clothing, you’ll feel more comfortable.”
“Maybe.”
With a nod, I left, driving into town. If I wanted a big box store, I’d have to head east twenty miles, but our general store carried almost everything, even if they couldn’t offer a huge variety. In the clothing section, I was able to find jeans in Gravor’s size, plus t-shirts in neutral colors. I threw in a pair of gray sweatpants so I could drool while he wore them. A hoodie to match. A pair of sneakers. We hadn’t discussed underwear, but most guys liked boxers. I guessed the size on those.
As I was standing at the counter chatting with Betty, the owner of the general store, a man wearing a long-sleeve red and blue flannel shirt, jeans, and very scuffed boots entered, the bell above the door jangling. He looked around warily before striding down the middle aisle and up to the counter, stopping beside me.
I couldn’t help but notice the scars on his hands. As a nurse, I’d seen some horrible ones like them before. They were burns. Bad burns. Second or even third degree, though it didn’t look as if he’d had skin grafts. From what I could tell from the light-colored areas and dark pigmentation changes, they snaked up beneath his shirt sleeves. They poked out from his collar and wrapped around his neck like a noose, a swath ending halfway up his right cheek. Did they cover his torso too? He must’ve suffered greatly. From the burn degree it took to scar like that, he was lucky to be alive.
“I’ll be right with you after I finish ringing Mazie up,” Betty said, giving him a nod.
“I’m not looking to buy anything.” His voice came out low and raspy.
“Do you need directions, then?” she asked. “As you’ve probably discovered, cell phone service is spotty out this way. I imagine your GPS is going haywire.”
“I’m not here for that either,” he said.
“All righty.” She finished scanning and bagging my purchases, and I handed her my card to pay. Once she’d given me the receipt, her smile rose. “Stop by again, love. It’s always great seeing you.” Her smile fell, smoothing into politeness as she turned to the man. “What can I do for you?”
I grabbed my bag and started down the aisle toward the door. I was turning the knob when the man spoke.
“I’m looking for someone. A man about this tall.”
A chill stabbed through me.
A glance over my shoulder showed him holding his hand about five inches above his head—Gravor’s height, though that didn’t mean much. Lots of tall guys around. Still, I remained where I was, making no effort to hide that I was listening.
“Does the man you’re seeking have a name?” Betty asked, her gaze meeting mine. Her eyes flashed with an odd light, and she nudged her head subtly to the side.
I slunk beyond the center aisle and two more before ducking down beside a floor-to-ceiling counter loaded with bags of carrots and potatoes, plus mesh baskets holding garlic and onions.
“I can’t give you a name,” he said. “But I can say this. He’s in a lot of trouble, and I won’t stop until I find him.”
“Is this a legal matter?” Betty grunted. “If so, I need to see your badge before I answer any further questions.”
“I’m not law. Where I come from, we take care of what needs doing nice and tidy on our own. We don’t ask the police to do a damn thing. Get that, lady?”
Betty huffed. “Well, height alone isn’t going to tell me anything.” She kept her voice neutral, but as someone who’d known her all her life, I could hear the thread of steel in her voice. If this man thought she’d tell him much about anyone in our town, he was about to learn how wrong he was. She was friendly, and she was always happy to share, but we in Trickster Falls watched out for each other.
“He probably comes across a bit lost. He’s . . . not right in the head.” The man’s voice softened, but even I could sense he wasn’t being completely honest with Betty. “He’s my . . . brother. Yeah, that’s it. My brother. He’s got mental issues, and he ran away.”
“Maybe he doesn’t want to be found,” Betty said.
“He needs his meds. We need to watch him. If he runs rampant . . . Well, no one wants to find out what might happen then.”
