Hopefully for a very long time.
He decided he would take his time before leaving the house. He was exhausted. He wanted to lay next to her for a while, breathe in her odor and thoroughly enjoy the peace he’d finally found.
He lay down, closed his eyes, and, before he knew it, fell into a deep, luxurious slumber.
At some point, he heard the voice. “Mom?” It sounded like a young boy.
Clawing out of his deep slumber, he wrenched open his eyes. He blinked the sleep away and tried to get his bearings. He was with the woman . . . and there had been a voice.
Or had there? Maybe it had been his imagina—
“Mom, what’s going on? What’s wrong with the lights? Hey, Mom?”
Suddenly the overhead light bathed the room in mind-bending brightness.
Where the fuck did he come from? And how the hell did he turn on that light? I flipped off the fucking— He saw the boy standing in the entrance of the room and his heart nearly leapt out of his chest. The kid stared, quickly comprehending the scene. He fumbled for his knife, grasping it just as the kid disappeared down the hallway . . . and he tore after him.
CHAPTER 28
CASHIERING WAS MINDLESS WORK.
It was also the type of work that could make you lose your mind, Allie thought a few hours into her first day at Sherwood Foods. You just say hello and smile at the customers as though you were honestly happy to see them.
Then, after the greetings and fake smiles, scan the groceries, tuck the items in the bag, making sure that fragile items like eggs are secure. Announce the total, make change, tear off a receipt, and say “Good-bye, have a wonderful day!” with a big cheesy smile on your face.
Then do it all over again.
And again.
And again.
The work in and of itself was fine. It was so easy, Allie could do it in her sleep. The difficult parts were the boredom and being in such a public place for a long period of time.
Too many people were milling around. Too many eyes were on her, watching. Staring. She tended to wilt under people’s curious eyes. Eyes made her insecure.
As soon as Miss Bitty had dropped her off in front of the store, she knew it was a mistake. Then, when she started manning her register, she could swear the sea of customers was talking about her. Judging her. But, of course, she was just imagining it.
Well, wasn’t she?
She dutifully followed her manager’s commands, even though she was having a tough time concentrating with his thick hand resting on the small of her back. Many times she wanted to slap it off. To tell him what else he could do with it.
But it was important to her to do well. To make Miss Bitty proud. After all, she imagined the woman didn’t have an easy time getting her the job in the first place.
At least Miss Bitty had made it a point to get her a job outside of Grand Trespass, in a place where it was less likely folks would know her and her story. Even though she had been a social hermit all her life, enmeshed with the rest of her family, chances were someone would eventually recognize her in Grand Trespass. At least here, miles outside of town, the odds were slim.
After her lunch break, someone set a few items on the conveyor belt: an egg salad sandwich, a bag of Fritos, a can of Coca-Cola. When she looked up to greet the customer, she was surprised to see Hannah’s stepfather, Ted.
“I didn’t realize you worked here,” he said, smiling.
“I didn’t. Um, well, not until today anyway,” she said, remembering how much of a fool she’d made of herself the last time she’d seen him. She scanned his items quickly.
“This place is kind of out of the way, isn’t it?”
She shrugged. “I guess.”
“I’m building a fence for a family out here today,” he said. “Figured I’d grab myself some lunch.”
She rang up his last item. “Um, I guess that’ll be $4.55,” she said, glancing up at him. He handed her a crisp five-dollar bill. She made change and he grabbed his bag. “Well, hope to see you around the house. Hannah could use more friends.”
He wants me to be Hannah’s friend?
He actually approves of me?
“Uh, sure. Okay,” she stammered. Maybe she’d gotten him all wrong. After all, if he approved of her, he couldn’t be that bad of a guy, could he?
“Have a good day, Allie.”
“You, too, Mr. Hanover,” she said, and threw him a half smile.
After he walked off, someone tossed a box of powdered donuts on her conveyor belt. She looked up to greet her customer and her blood ran cold. The man glared down at her with dark, hard eyes and hissed, “How does it feel being a killer’s sister?” He leaned even closer and, eyes blazing, said, “Your mama was a killer, too. Isn’t that right? Both a killer and a whore?”
Adrenaline flooded Allie’s veins. The words, said aloud and so angrily, frightened her.
“You sick, too? See, I have little kids to protect. I don’t need no loony tunes working close to where they go to school and play. You follow what I’m sayin’?”
Desperate for help, Allie turned toward the automatic doors but saw that Ted was long gone. She peered up at the manager’s office, but the manager wasn’t there. Finally, she turned back to the man, the back of her neck on fire.
“Just so you know, I’m watching you,” the man continued. “All of us are.”
She heard voices close by. Looking over her shoulder, she saw a small group of teenage girls in soccer uniforms, ringed socks up to their knobby knees, staring at her from aisle eight. Five pairs of cold eyes watched her; judged her. She inwardly cringed, imagining what they must be thinking.
Allie turned back to the man and gripped the box of donuts so hard, the box imploded. Do not cry . . . do not cry . . . do not cry, she told herself, beads of sweat forming on her upper lip.
She tried to work up a fierceness in her eyes. Tried to play it tough, like she always had, but she was too scared.
Plus, the room was starting to spin.