The two rode in silence. Allie stared down at the remains of the jelly donut on her hand and wished she could undo the last few minutes.
“And you’re telling me no one is looking for you?”
Allie shrugged.
Johnny turned and stared at her, then his eyes went back to the road. For a moment, the silence was deafening. Then he started laughing.
Allie frowned, thoroughly confused. But after a few seconds, she got it. He thought she was joking.
“You have quite the imagination, Li’l Bit!” he said, then began laughing some more. “Oh my. Really, you’re something else! C’mon, give me that beer. I think you’ve had too much!”
Allie found herself laughing, too—out of relief—because she realized that if he had believed her there was a good chance he wouldn’t want her around anymore. That he wouldn’t save her.
Now, sitting in front of the motel room window, she lit another cigarette and chastised herself. She should’ve known he was about to leave. After three weeks of traveling back and forth together on his pastry routes, out of nowhere two mornings ago he’d just said, “Go home, Allie. Surely someone misses you. Besides, you have no clue who I really am.” His blue eyes had held hers as he said it. And it was the very first time she’d ever seen him look so serious.
But he was wrong. No one missed her.
Everything she’d said in the rig had been true. And she didn’t care who he truly was. She would like him no matter what. After all, who was she to judge anyone?
After two hours and smoking all but three of the cigarettes, she finally rose. Her heart knocked angrily against her chest. The nicotine hadn’t calmed her one bit. In fact, it seemed to have done the opposite.
Her situation was beyond hopeless and she was miles beyond exhausted. She had nothing and no one. The world was a frightening place. And a place where she had never seemed to belong. She was tired and just wanted it all to end.
She stuck her hand in her brother’s backpack and rummaged around her belongings, drawing out a bottle of pills she’d stolen from a truck driver. She examined the label and wondered if there were enough of them to end it all—the whole miserable mess of her life.
She went to the room’s little bathroom to fill up an empty beer bottle with water from the sink. Then she sat on the bed and took the pills two at a time—a total of twenty-three—until the bottle was empty.
The air conditioner kicked on, the fan sputtering. She walked back into the filthy bathroom and stared at herself in the mirror. Her gray eyes were puffy and raw. Black mascara coated her cheeks, and a thin stream of clear snot had worked its way out of a nostril.
No wonder no one loves you. You’re hideous.
Drawing warm water into the tub, she undressed, stepped in, and lit another cigarette. Then she lay against the fiberglass and closed her eyes, welcoming the comfort of drifting away from her world. Away from the unbearable loneliness.
And hopefully toward her brother again.
CHAPTER 4
THE PRETTY BLONDE from the supermarket was in the master bathroom, running a bath.
He waited in the adjoining bedroom just inside the doorway, listening to her each and every movement. Hunting knife in hand, he stood motionless, enjoying the adrenaline rush. The heat coursing through his veins.
His short stint as a small-town local was making him claustrophobic. He was ready to be back in the big city. But he couldn’t leave yet. No, he had to wait. He had responsibilities. People who finally needed to be taken care of.
She splashed quietly every now and then. But for the most part, she was quiet. She was reading a novel. He’d watched as she had taken it in with her. Some sort of thriller.
Apparently, she likes to be afraid.
A few minutes earlier, she’d walked from the bedroom into the bathroom, her firm little naked backside swaying left to right. She was holding a bottle of wine, a glass, and something else. Something odd.
A freshly sharpened knife.
Strange, he thought.
Eerie even.
In fact, during his first thirty minutes of being there, he’d watched her sharpen two knives in the kitchen. She’d placed one beneath her pillow before disappearing into the bathroom. The other was now in the bathroom with her.
He smiled to himself. As if wielding a knife against someone like me will keep you safe.
Maybe the knife had something to do with the thriller she was reading. Maybe the book had her just a little freaked out. Although he had watched her check the locks on all the doors and windows of the house, perhaps she was still feeling insecure. If she was, she had good reason to be. It had taken him less than a minute to pick the cheap lock on the back door.
Since he’d been in the house, he had learned several things about the woman. From the books strewn around her room to the affirmations scribbled on several sticky notes she had posted on various mirrors and walls, he could interpret her most private concerns.
She was having relationship troubles, or had at some point in her life.
She was seeking advice on getting out of debt.
And, she wanted to lose weight.
He thought her body was perfect. In fact, it looked much better naked than when it was in clothes. Luckily he’d been in eyeshot when she undressed and had been able to commit the image to memory. It was a memory he could replay over and over as much as he liked.
Wherever he liked.
She had small but perky breasts, a nice slender stomach, narrow hips, and strong, lean legs. Her behind was small, but high, taut, and plump in all the right places.
Splashes from the bathroom. She was moving around in there again. He tensed and another surge of adrenaline poured through him. When she became still again, his gaze went back to her things.
Her bed was unmade. She had tossed her panties, bra, and a pair of jeans on the floor. A T-shirt was also balled up on her bureau next to a dirty plate and a previously used wineglass.