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“Not a lesson.” I said, oozing confidence as I stepped past her to open her door. “See you on Sunday.”

“Unless you need a caffeine fix.” Meg teased.

“Unless I need a caffeine fix.” I grinned.

She hadn’t actually answered me yet, so I asked, “Can I take that as a yes for next Sunday?”

“Maybe.” She said as she got in her car.

I watched as she struggled with the idea. I was sure she thought I wanted something in return, but I didn’t. Well, I did, but probably not what she thought. I wanted to get to know her better but had a feeling it wouldn’t be easy. I shut her door and watched her pull away. I knew there was a lot more to her than met the eye. Megan Hayes was a mystery I desperately wanted to solve.

Chapter 10

Jack

Meg and I met at the range the following Sunday. After shooting, I suggested we go to the coffee shop. I was hoping to get to know her a little better. We texted a little during the week, but I didn’t ask too many questions. I wanted to talk to her face-to-face. Most communication is non-verbal, and I planned to put my skills to good use. I tried to pay for our coffees but gave up when she insisted she on paying. Meg ordered snacks too, I could see them on the tray as she walked over. I didn’t enjoy letting her carry our order, or serve me, but she insisted. It seemed important to her, so I swallowed my pride. I appreciated her independent streak, but didn’t love the bruised ego.

We made small talk as we sipped our coffee and ate the cookies. “Oatmeal raisin cookies are the reason I have trust issues.” I wrinkled my nose at the cookies on the plate.

She covered her mouth when she laughed then swallowed her tea before saying, “I don’t like them either.”

“Is it the oatmeal or the raisins you don’t like?”

“The raisins. I love oatmeal cookies. Especially oatmeal chocolate chip.” She sipped of her tea. The scent of peppermint hung in the air. I bet it tasted great with the chocolate chip cookie she was eating. “What about you? Why don’t you like them?”

“It’s the combo. I like oatmeal and I like raisins, but not together in a cookie.” I ate the sugar cookie, it wasn’t my favorite, but I knew she liked chocolate, so I left the chocolate chip cookies for her.

Meg rubbed her eye, causing her contact to shift. I saw a hint of bright green before her contact shifted back into place. It happened so quick I wondered if I’d even seen it. I knew I was staring, but couldn’t help myself. Why on earth would anyone cover up gorgeous green eyes with plain brown contacts? Not that I thought Meg had plain or boring eyes. Quite the opposite. Her expressive eyes were the main reason I was so intrigued by her. They gave away her feelings, even when she was trying to hide them, and held her secrets.

I looked away before she finished blinking and could catch me staring.Just ask her about it. I leaned forward and rested my forearms on the table. I stared deep into her eyes. And chickened out. “You should carry eye drops. The range can be a bitch for people with contacts.”

Her hands clenched her tea cup as fear flashed across her eyes. I’d hit a nerve.

“Good idea, thanks.” She looked down, hiding her eyes.

Damn it. I leaned back and crossed my arms. Should I push for more, or let it go? She closed herself off any time I got too inquisitive and it only made me more curious. “You’re welcome.” I let it go, for now. It wasn’t like me to wimp out, but with Meg, I felt like I had to take it slow and walk on eggshells. Like a timid kitten, she’d spook and run if I moved too fast.

Making a mental note, I added colored contacts to the growing list of reasons I thought she might be on the run, but not from the law. We ran background checks on all applicants at Grannie’s and nothing popped up, but I had a feeling she was running from someone. If I was going to help her, I needed to know more. She might not share, but I had other ways of finding out. I could do a little digging around. You could learn a lot from a person’s social media presence.

I changed the subject back to the cookies, hoping to lessen her anxiety. Picking up the last cookie, the dreaded oatmeal raisin, and holding it between two fingers, I winced. “I’ll take one for the team.” I scrunched up my nose in disgust as I chewed. Her laugh was hollow. I could already tell the difference between her genuine laugh and her fake one. And I had just suffered through eating an oatmeal raisin cookie for the fake one. It might have been worth it for a real one. Before we left, I convinced her to join me for another range date the following Sunday. I enjoyed our Sunday mornings together and wanted them to continue. Plus, I learned a little more about her each time we got together.

I walked her to her car. She always told me I didn’t have to, and I always replied the same way, “Ma’d kill me if I didn’t.” It wasn’t a lie, so much as an exaggeration. She wouldn’t literally kill me, but I’d get a tongue lashing about failing to be a decent southern gentleman. And the dreaded speech about how disappointed she was. A fate much worse than death. I had suffered through that speech more often than I cared to admit when I was a semi-rebellious teenager. I planned on being the kind of son, the kind of southern gentleman, who never had to hear that speech again.

“I’ll be out-of-town most of the week on assignment, but you can call or text me if you have any questions,” I paused, “Or if you want to chat.” Meg hadn’t once reached out to me. She seemed content to let me take the lead. I was happy to take it, but I hoped someday she’d want to reach out to me. I wasn’t holding my breath.

During some downtime on Monday, I did what everyone does these days. I searched Meg’s social media accounts. My gut was telling me something bad had happened to her. I instinctively made a mental list of the most likely scenarios while I searched. Hiding from a stalker or an abusive ex? Witnessed a crime and is in witness protection? I doubted she was on the run from the law.She might be a criminal mastermind, hiding in plain sight, but I doubt it. She didn’t give off that vibe.

Being on the run or in protection would explain why she dyed her hair (I had noticed her roots last week) and wore colored contacts, her reluctance to talk about herself, her family, or her past, and her constant anxiety.

My first search through the normal social media sites yielded nothing, so I dug a little deeper and found a recently deleted Facebook account. I scrolled through her page. There weren’t a lot of posts, and there were no pictures of her. Weird, most kids in college over-shared on social media, but Meg was the exact opposite. Most of her vague posts were about her classes at the Community College she’d attended in Indiana. From what I could tell, she had been working her way through school, but hadn’t graduated, at least not before deleting the account. I pieced together a few things: she attended part time, didn’t go out much or didn’t post about it if she did, she didn’t belong to any clubs, and she walked away from it all without notice shortly after her semester started.

A few weeks later, she was in Texas interviewing for a job at Grannie’s. “What happened to you Meg?” I asked the empty room.

Meg’s account was only active for three years. She created it with her college email address, which was no longer active. I knew not everyone wanted a major social media presence, hell I was one of those people. I’d had a Facebook account forever, but since graduating high school, I rarely used it. It was mostly for professional contacts and opportunities, and keeping up with Army buddies. I rarely posted anything. Still, the fact she opened her account when she started college and closed it days before moving to Texas raised a red flag for me. Especially when I added it to the growing list of mysteries.

I searched the other common sites and apps but couldn’t find any other accounts. Typical college students broadcast their entire lives for all the world to see on multiple social media platforms. Meg only had the one, and she had barely used it. I found very little online about Megan Hayes prior to her first semester at college. Which was odd. It was almost as if she didn’t exist before college.Did you change your name?

I couldn’t ignore my gut instinct: Meg was hiding. But from who and why?I need to talk to dad and Jamie.

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