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I stomp away from him, my nerves fried, and in the distance, I can see the sun lightening the horizon. I may as well stay awake and deal with the aftermath when Milo goes to school. Once I’m at my steps, I turn back to the nosy agent, though I suppose he’s just out here doing his job. “I guess I’m not to leave the state?”
“I don’t think they’d let you leave the town, Miss Hart.” He leans on the railing, looking casual, but I watch his eyes take in everything around us.
“Who?”
“Now, Miss Hart, I can’t answer that.”
“Can’t or won’t?” I snap. “If I’m in danger, shouldn’t I know whom I’m in danger from?” I should have known that the hitman leaving me alive would be an issue.
“Tell me what he looked like, and I’ll tell you.” He attempts to negotiate.
The only problem is, I’m willing to negotiate now, and maybe after, I’ll decide whether to keep the information in my memory or let it go. “Black,” I whisper, looking around, especially at Jani’s windows. “Everything. Gloves, boots, scarf. He wore a designer wool coat, but I think it was just a part of his costume.”
“Costume?” He raises a brow. “Explain what you mean by that.”
“He wore a cowl that dipped over his eyes and steampunk glasses. He also had on a black bandanna that completely covered his face.” I shake my head. “I’m sorry, it isn’t much to go on.”
“It’s more than I’ve ever had.”
“How do you know it’s the guy you’re looking for?”
“The bullet.” He pulls a baggie from his pocket and turns it to the non-damaged side. “It was in the refrigerator door. See this engraving?”
I don’t need to look to know it’s a feather. I look anyway, seeing the faint lines. That isn’t what makes me nauseous though. It’s that he said the bullet was in the fridge. “The bullet wasn’t in his head?”
He pockets the baggie and looks me over. “Where were you standing?”
“Right in front of him.” My voice feels far away, and I know at any moment, I’m going to dive headfirst back into shock. I look up at Agent Hayes. “Right in front of him.”
He tilts his head to the side. “He missed you on purpose.”
What do I even say to that? A hitman purposely missed shooting me.
“Do you understand that you’re in danger now, Miss Hart?” He’s trying to plead to my self-preservation. The only problem is, who do I trust to keep me safe?
The FBI agent tracking the hitman, or the hitman who has a strange interest in me?
It’s a paradox I can’t understand. “I appreciate what you’re trying to say, I do, but I’m no one, Agent Hayes. Just a diner waitress raising her little brother. There’s nothing special about me, so you are wrong.”
He nods, and I see he isn’t pleased with my response. “Well, I hope you get some rest, Miss Hart. I’ll be in town for a while, so expect to see me around.”
I grind my teeth as he slowly backs away with that foreboding retort. This isn’t the last I’ll see of Special Agent Matthew Hayes, and I don’t know how to feel about that.
Seven
I havethis fantasy where I’m lying on a beach, and the sun is just starting its descent toward the horizon. If I close my eyes, I can even feel the heat from the sun warming my skin and the sand beneath me, warm from the hot sun. The air that rolls off the waves smells faintly of salt as it brushes against me.
Usually, I’m alone, just sitting there on the beach, waiting for the waves to kiss my toes and wash away all my worries.
Only this time, when I close my eyes and imagine this place, this safe place built by my consciousness, I’m not alone.
As the waves crash on the shore in the distance, I can just make out fins—three of them. They circle each other. As the next wave rolls and crashes, it brings red-stained salt water that kisses my toes.
My peaceful sanctuary is not safe from the blood splashed on me.
As the water from the showerhead swirls down the drain, it washes the blood from my skin. I can’t stop looking at it as the water runs red.
Turning the dial hotter, I scrub and scrub, working my loofa across my skin.
