Page 9 of Traces Of You
She moved toward the door, he threw his money on the counter, left his half-eaten muffin and picked up his coffee to walk out too.
Ford didn’t show any rush or panic, just moved the way he always did with a cocky swagger, nodding to those he passed.
When he got to the parking lot, he noticed her speed-walking toward a car with Florida plates.
Nope, she wasn’t getting away. Not this time.
His long stride had him reaching her car before she could shut the door.
“Reenie?” he asked.
She looked up into his face and shook her head.
She was lying.
“I’m sorry, you’re confusing me with someone else.”
“I don’t think so,” he said. He shifted, his badge and gun, not to mention his uniform, clearly stating who he was.
“Did I do something wrong?” she asked. “Am I being held or something?”
“No,” he said. “You looked a little lost in there.” He could play it this way if he had to. “Just passing through?”
“Yes,” she said. “I thought I’d get a good breakfast and be on my way. I’ve got a long trip.”
“Where are you heading?” he asked.
He looked in the back of the car. There didn’t seem to be any luggage that he could see. Just a bag with some electronics and a cooler within reach behind the passenger side.
“I’m not sure yet,” she said. “Just driving around enjoying the Adirondacks.”
“You’re a long way from home to be doing that,” he said. He noticed the registration said March on it. Brand new. It was only a week into April.
“It’s always been a dream of mine,” she said. Her long, thin fingers were plucking at the cuff of her shirt like she’d always done when she was nervous.
Her nails were almost perfect. He remembered that as a kid. That she could have modeled her hands.
When all the girls were getting their nails done, Reenie’s were bare of color or shine, but flawless just the same.
He’d never forgotten a thing about her. It had taken him over six months to earn her trust, slowly breaking through every wall she’d built, and then, without warning, she vanished like she was never there.
His eyes were staring into hers. He saw the recognition and didn’t know why she was hurting him this way.Again.
“You know who I am,” he said.
She blinked her doe-like eyes a few times. “I’ve got to go.”
He stood in front of the driver’s door, blocking her from closing it. She’d never be strong enough to move him out of the way.
“Don’t run from me again.”
“I didn’t run from you,” she said, her hand slapping in front of her mouth.
He crouched down to get eye level with her. She feared something. Just as he’d seen in her so many times their eighth grade year.
He wasn’t a kid that couldn’t carry weight behind a promise to keep her safe anymore.
He was the fucking sheriff here and if she was in trouble it was his job to take care of it.
