Don't Cry. Beverly Barton

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СКАЧАТЬ into the office.

      “Then it’s real,” Audrey said, barely believing her own eyes. “It’s the actual skeletal remains of a human child?”

      Tam set two colas on the desk, one by her sandwich and the other by Audrey’s. “All too real. We’re waiting on DNA results in the hopes we can identify the child, but the UT Body Farm has identified the remains of the child found with Jill Scott as a white male, probably between the ages of twenty and thirty-six months.”

      “What about Debra Gregory? Was there a…?” Audrey couldn’t bring herself to say the words.

      “Yes, there was another child found in her lap,” Tam said. “About the same size.”

      Willie stood and placed his big hand on Audrey’s shoulder. “Pete Tipton will examine the remains, take DNA samples from bone and teeth, and forward them to the lab.”

      Audrey suddenly felt as if someone had dealt her a body blow hard enough to knock the wind out of her. For a few seconds, she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t allow herself to accept the impossible possibility. Not now. Not after twenty-five years.

      “Is there any chance that one of those little bodies could be…” She swallowed hard. “Could be…” She couldn’t get the words out, couldn’t say the unthinkable.

      “It’s possible,” Tam said. “We’ll know as soon as the DNA testing is completed.”

      “Oh, God, does my father know?” Audrey asked.

      Whitney Poole hated her job, especially when she drew the Sunday lunch shift at Callie’s Café. Crowds of churchgoers descended on the restaurant in droves, and many of those good Christian people treated the waitresses as if they were unemotional robots. As if being yelled at, ordered around, and occasionally cursed wasn’t bad enough, the cheapskates who ate at Callie’s because they could buy a meat and three vegetables for $5.99 were definitely not big tippers.

      Whitney glanced at her wristwatch—4:15 P.M.—and smiled when she realized her shift would end in fifteen minutes. Her feet ached, her head hurt, and she probably had a bruise on her butt from where a customer had pinched her. The son of a bitch had actually pinched her ass. When she’d given him a nasty look and told him to keep his hands to himself, he and his two buddies had whooped loudly in her face.

      After going from table to table and refilling coffee cups and tea glasses, she hurried to print out the bills for her two remaining tables. One was a blond guy sitting all alone. He seemed quiet and shy and hadn’t said another word to her after placing his order. He had simply answered when asked if he wanted more tea or a dessert. He had declined both. He’d been pleasant enough, although he hadn’t smiled at her or anyone else, but she had caught him staring at her a couple of times, and the way he’d looked at her had sent chills up her spine. She couldn’t pinpoint what it was about him that spooked her; she just knew that he did, despite the fact that he was young and good-looking.

      She laid his check on the table, asked if he wanted anything else, and turned to go to the next table.

      “Wait,” he called to her.

      She hesitated, feeling a sense of dread spreading quickly through her; but she turned, smiled, and said, “Yes, sir?”

      He held up a five-dollar bill. “I just wanted to make sure you got your tip.”

      She stared at the money in his hand for a couple of seconds, then snatched it away from him and said, “Thank you.”

      He rose to his feet so quickly that before she had time to move, he was facing her, only a couple of inches separating their bodies. Instinctively, she moved backward, forced another smile, and rushed to the next table. By the time she laid down the check and glanced back, the man was walking out the door. She released a heavy breath, glad to see him leaving.

      But suddenly he stopped, glanced over his shoulder, and smiled at her.

      The only thought that came to mind was something her grandmother had said whenever she got a peculiar feeling. I feel as if somebody just walked over my grave.

      Get real, Whit. Just because that guy was sort of creepy doesn’t mean you should freak out or anything.

      By the time 4:30 rolled around, she had all but forgotten her weird customer. The only thing on her mind was her Sunday night date with Travis. He was bringing over pizza and a DVD. They’d eat, watch the movie, and then do the nasty. They’d been dating a couple of months. Nothing serious. At least not yet. But neither of them was seeing other people. That meant something, didn’t it? He hadn’t said the L-word and neither had she, but she already knew she loved him. And she knew better than to push him. She’d done that before, with disastrous results. Danny had walked away and never looked back, leaving her with a broken heart. That had been nearly two years ago. She wouldn’t make the same mistake with Travis. She’d wait for him to make the first move, to say “I love you,” and take their relationship to the next level.

      Whitney dug the car keys out of her Wal-Mart red purse and slung it over her shoulder as she exited Callie’s Café through the back entrance. When she reached her Honda Civic, a reliable used car she’d bought last year, she paused when the hair on the back of her neck stood up. Someone was watching her. She could feel it.

      Play it cool. Don’t panic. It’s broad daylight. You aren’t alone. There are people inside the restaurant and probably out here, too.

      She glanced around casually, doing her best not to draw attention to herself. Besides the other employees’ vehicles, she counted three other cars, all three empty. And she didn’t see another soul anywhere in the parking lot. No one was following her. No one was watching her.

      After hurriedly unlocking her car, she slid behind the wheel, closed the door, locked it, and tossed her purse into the passenger seat. While starting the engine, she surveyed the parking lot again and saw nothing out of the ordinary. But just as she drove into the street, she spotted an older-model car parked across the road at the nearby Kangaroo gas station and mini-mart. A man stood beside a white Lincoln, the driver’s door open, and he was looking right at her.

      My God, it was the weirdo from the restaurant, the one who had given her the five-dollar tip.

      Her heartbeat accelerated.

      What would she do if he followed her?

      You’ll drive to the nearest police station, that’s what you’ll do.

      For the next few blocks, she kept looking in her rearview mirror to see if he was following her. He wasn’t. No sign of his big old car or one that even vaguely resembled it.

      If that guy ever came back to Callie’s Café, she’d ask one of the other waitresses to take his order. And if he ever dared to follow her when she left the restaurant, she’d sic the cops on him.

      She was the one. He had known the minute he saw her. Everything about her was familiar, everything from her long, dark hair to her young, slender body and full, round breasts.

      Her name tag had read Whitney.

      But she couldn’t fool him.

      He knew who she was.

      He always recognized her.

      I’m СКАЧАТЬ