Page 44 of Dolly

“Safety’s still on, right?” I dip my chin a bit, trying to give a stern look.

She rolls her eyes.

“Of course. I don’t want to shoot my damn foot off.” She hops up into the truck and pulls the belt over her chest. “I’m hungry. Can we get pancakes?” She yanks her door shut, but stops it before it slams. We’re still trying to stay quiet.

I situate myself in the driver’s seat and take her hand, bringing it to my lips. Blood stains her cuticles.

“Of course we can,” I promise, then fire up the truck, tucking her hand into my lap.

As we turn onto the highway, heading back to the motel, she squeezes my thigh. “I’ve never been to a pancake house,” she says wistfully. Hope blooms in her words.

“There’s one right by the motel. Let’s get cleaned up, then stop there,” I say, hitting the gas harder.

My girl wants pancakes, and she’s going to damn well get them.

Nineteen

DOLLY

Butter melts over the top of my stack of pancakes, and I lean forward to inhale the sweet smell of it. When I sit back with a smile, Ken stares at me.

“What?” I’m acting weird. I know it, but I can’t help myself. The vibrancy of the world has finally hit me. It’s like I’ve been living in a black and white version of reality and the color returned all at once.

He shakes his head with a soft chuckle. “Nothing, honey.” He stabs his eggs, then shovels them into his mouth.

I pick up my fork and knife and get busy cutting the pancakes into bite sized pieces so I can smother them with maple syrup.

“Can I get you anything else?” Our waitress pours more coffee into Ken’s cup. Her brown apron has smudges all over her stomach, probably from leaning over tables all day long. Several strands of hair have fallen out of her bun, and there’s a shadow beneath her eyes. She must be at the end of her shift.

“No thanks. I think we’re good.” I look at Ken, because maybe he wants something else and spoke too soon. He gives me an approving nod.

“Actually, is there a newspaper around?” I look at Ken again. “Maybe we can go to the movies this afternoon.”

“Yep, have them up front. Let me get one for you.” The waitress disappears.

“I’m sorry. Maybe I should have asked you first.” I lower my gaze.

He reaches across the table with his fork and pokes my wrist. “Eyes up,” he commands, waiting for me to comply. “You don’t have to ask about stuff like that. If you want to see a movie this afternoon, we’ll go to a movie. You’re not a prisoner with me, Dolly.”

“I didn’t think that,” I say too loudly. Readjusting my tone, I continue. “You don’t treat me like that.” He needs to understand I’m sitting with him because it’s what I want, not because he’s forcing me.

His lips soften at the edges, but worry lingers in his dark eyes.

“No one is going to treat you like that ever again.” It’s a promise he’s made several times. My heart can tell he means it, but my brain knows he can’t keep away all the evil in the world forever.

“Can I ask you something?” I shove a forkful of pancakes into my mouth. The butter runs over my tongue mixed with the syrup in a gooey, delicious mess. I could drink this for the next week.

“Sure. Anything.” He sips his coffee.

I swallow and grab for my orange juice. “Why did you become a police officer?” In a world where he could be anything, why work every day facing the scum of the earth?

He puts his fork down on the plate and leans back in the booth. His chest expands with his breath.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want.” I take another large bite of the fluffy breakfast to keep from prying more.

The waitress drops the newspaper on our table as she passes. Ken pulls it toward him and holds it while he waits for me to look at him again. When he pauses like that, it’s because he wants my full attention. He won’t speak until he has it.

“I majored in computer science when I went to college. I was going to get a big job with the FBI one day working in forensics—you know, hack the big computer, track down the bank hackers.” He rolls his eyes like his youth is something to be embarrassed about. “My junior year, my mom went missing. Just vanished.” His fingers crinkle the edges of the paper. “She left work and never made it home. The search went on for weeks. No one saw anything. No video footage in the parking lot at the company she worked for. No real evidence of foul play.”

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