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ONE
NATALIYA
“Oh my. Look at that,” Alice, my partner for the lunch shift, wolf-whistled. Alice was in her sixties and absolutely unafraid to say whatever was on her mind. I admired her for that.
I followed her gaze to the man standing in the doorway to the diner. Oh my, indeed. The adage tall, dark and handsome definitely fit this guy: broad shoulders, strong jaw, piercing eyes. A real dish, as Alice would say.
Not a St. Francisville local, that was for sure. My son, Elias, and I had been living in the small Louisianian town since October, almost five months now, and I was pretty sure I’d met just about everybody. If I’d crossed paths with him before, I’d have remembered. He wasn’t the kind of man you forgot.
Should I be worried? I wasn’t sure. On the one hand, strangers could mean bad news for me. On the other hand, I didn’t want to upend this new life I’d managed to carve out for Elias and me just because I got paranoid.
I shrugged and tried to ignore the little thrum of adrenaline spidering through me, turning instead to grab the carafe of coffee on the back counter. “If you’re into that sort of thing.”
I smiled at the pair of elderly men in front of me. “More coffee?”
They both nodded and thanked me as I filled up their half-empty mugs. Lunch was usually crowded at the diner. St. Francisville was the only “town” for miles around, so the locals all tended to coalesce here around mealtimes. It made those shifts a little chaotic, but I didn’t mind. I liked the day patrons. They were nicer and tipped better.
Alice’s laughter was warm. “Now, don’t be coy,” she chided me. “That’s a good-looking man.”
One of the elderly men—Lester, always orders a tuna melt, I thought absently—grinned at Alice. “Handsome as me, cher?” His voice was thick with a Cajun accent I still sometimes struggled to understand. I’ve been fluent in English all my life—it’s one of the three national languages of my home country—but before I moved to the US, I had no idea just how heavy different American accents could be, especially in Louisiana. Sometimes I wondered if Southerners actually enjoyed being hard to understand.
“Oh, much more handsome than you, Les,” she cooed, and I laughed with the rest of them, warm and happy.
I glanced at the man in question again. He had found a booth in the corner and had dug out a menu from the pocket fastened to the wall. “Well, there you are,” I said. “He’s in your section.”
Alice clicked her tongue against her teeth. “I think you should take him, darlin’.”
“He’s in your section.” I glanced over at my section. The patrons there were all eating and chatting. I’d need to check drinks in a few minutes, but there was nothing I needed to rush to handle.
“Leah, honey,” Alice said, “sometimes you gotta live a little.”
I raised my eyebrow at her. “Live a little by taking your customer for you?”
“He’s handsome,” she insisted. “Go flirt with him.”
I scoffed at her. “Absolutely not. You know I don’t bother with all of that.” Even if I wanted to bother with a relationship, which I didn’t, caring for Elias didn’t leave much time for it.And anyway, it wasn’t safe. Letting anyone in too close risked them finding out too much about me. I couldn’t risk it. Not after last time.
Alice pushed at my arm, playful but firm. “I’m not telling you to marry the man, darlin’. Just go get his order for me. Smile pretty at him.”
I sighed, but my irritation was mostly feigned. Something about Alice reminded me of my mother, and it was hard to say no to her when she got stubborn like this, especially when I knew she saw it as her way of looking out for me. I grabbed my order pad. “Okay.”
Alice smiled, brilliant. “I’ll start marrying the ketchups for you.”
I waded through the busy diner, noting the plates that could be cleared and drinks that needed to be filled for when I came back through, until I was standing beside his booth. Up close, the man was even more attractive—he’d taken off his jacket, and his Henley emphasized the muscles in his shoulders and arms. For a moment, I let myself wonder what it would be like to flirt with someone like this for real. But I couldn’t—not here, not now.
I put on my best smile. “Hi, I’m Leah,” I greeted, doing my best to keep my words in the front of my mouth. To sound American. In a big city, maybe it wouldn’t have mattered that I spoke English with an unusual accent, but in a small town, I did my best not to stand out in any way. I couldn’t quite sound like a native Louisianan, but I could sound neutrally American. “Do you want to hear about today’s specials? Or are you ready to order?”
“I’m not actually here for lunch,” he said. He flipped over what I thought was his wallet on the table to reveal a badge. “Nataliya Koza, I’m Special Agent Adrian Pierce, with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. I need to ask you a few questions.”
As soon as he said my real name, the bottom dropped out of my stomach. “I don’t know who that is,” I bluffed. “My name is Leah, like I said.”
Agent Pierce didn’t believe me. I could see it in his face. “I know that’s not true, Ms. Koza.”
A tremor of fear ran through me, and I gripped my order pad until the paper crinkled beneath my fingers. “I’m not who you’re looking for,” I said. “If you’re not going to order anything, you need to leave. We’re busy.” I tried to turn and leave, but then I felt his fingers encircle my wrist. I jerked back out of his hold. “Do. Not. Touch. Me,” I hissed at him. “Get out of here.”
“I can’t do that, Ms. Koza,” he insisted, his long fingers still gripping me tight. “I need to talk to you about the night your brother was killed.”
Anton. My mouth filled with saliva and bile splashed the back of my throat, but I forced myself to breathe through it. I hadn’t allowed myself to think about my brother in a long time. Since I’d gotten word that he’d died nearly two years ago, shortly after Elias and I left the Republic of Waathan. “You need to leave. Now.”
