A Marked Man. Stella Cameron

havin’ a hotel, or comin’ into a lot of money. When we met she was strugglin’. We’re together because we love each other. Now leave it.”

      “I gotta speak my mind. It’s time you had your eyes opened.”

      “Homer—”

      Homer cut Spike off. “Let me have my say. I do fine for myself. I don’t need no woman’s money and if that means I gotta stay away from Charlotte Patin if I want to feel like a man, then I’ll stay away. For her sake as well as mine.”

      At the counter, Annie rested her elbows and put her face in her hands. Irene inched around until she made a striped fur collar for her boss’s white blouse. Wazoo stared hard at Homer.

      Escape was on Max’s mind, but he’d stay put until Annie went upstairs. He wanted to make some calls of his own to some of the people who were being contacted by the sheriff’s department. They didn’t have his number, not that he thought too many of them would try to make contact. They would be too frightened for Michele. And there were bound to be those who wondered if Max Savage was a killer who duped them into believing in him.

      Spike and Homer stood silent, inches apart, looking hard at each other. “You finished?” Spike said finally. “I say you are anyway. And you’re full of bull. Vivian and I don’t need your interference, especially not now. Not ever. Do you remember Wendy? She’s the granddaughter you supposedly love and she’s happier than she’s ever been. Don’t mess with that. And if you do something stupid about Charlotte, you’ll answer to me. Now I’m out of here.”

      The son strode outside, throwing the door open as he went and letting it slam shut.

      The father stared after Spike for a moment, chomping down on a wad of gum with his back teeth. He took off, repeating the door-slamming performance, and Max avoided turning to see the men through the window.

      Within seconds, several women—evidently the book group—filed quietly from between the stacks and left in a shuffling bunch. Once the door closed again Max heard them burst into conversation. Homer would get his wish. His argument with Spike would be all over town by morning.

      Wazoo leaned toward Annie and spoke quietly to her. Annie nodded, then she stooped to gather the canvas bags she’d set at her feet and moved in the direction of the door at the back of the café.

      “Annie Duhon,” the man on his own said, folding his newspaper. “Didn’t take me so long to find you this time. You’ve got to stop running away from me.”

      She stopped, just stopped. She didn’t even start to turn toward him.

      “You afraid of me, Annie? You afraid of a good old friend? Or are you too important to talk to me anymore?”

      Max noted how she straightened her back—or stiffened it. The bags must be heavy, they dragged on her arms. “Hi, Bobby,” she said, and looked at him.

      She is afraid of him. Well, damn, Max didn’t know a whole lot about Annie before she settled in Toussaint but she had seemed open, if quiet, and sure of herself—until today. From what he could see, Bobby didn’t seem fearsome at all. Clean-cut with short sandy curls, the man’s dark brown eyes smiled at Annie, did more than smile, they invited. A fit guy with a good body.

      The emotion Max felt wasn’t so familiar but he recognized a flash of possessiveness.

      “Nice cat,” the stranger said. “I’m gonna have another cup of coffee. How ‘bout you join me? We got a lot of catching up to do.”

      Annie swivelled to see the whole café—and Max. Her mouth tightened when their eyes met. She looked from Bobby—whoever he might be—to Max and what he saw was a woman who felt trapped.

      Max grinned and got a slight smile in return.

      “Maybe this isn’t a good time,” Bobby said. “I can come back.”

      “Leave me a number,” Annie said. “I’ll give you a call sometime.”

      “Annie, I wouldn’t do a thing to interfere with your new life. I want to talk about old times, is all. Reminisce. We had good times together.” A lopsided smile was a combination of boyish charm and hinted-at intimacy that didn’t make Max feel any better.

      “We were kids,” Annie said. Bobby’s familiarity speeded up her pulse. “And I haven’t avoided you. Our paths haven’t crossed and there was no reason to think about you.”

      “You know how to make a man feel small,” Bobby said.

      “You’re responsible for your own feelings,” Annie told him. “I’m not into hanging out in the past. I’ve got things to do. A lot of paperwork.” She lifted her heavy bags a fraction.

      “Not good enough,” Bobby said, and Annie glanced nervously at Max. Why did this have to happen in front of him? Bobby continued, “The last time I saw you, before this mornin’, we weren’t kids anymore. I’ll never be able to explain how I felt that night. I—”

      “Thanks for being there when I needed you,” Annie said, praying she never had to see him again. Why had he decided to follow her around after so many years? She set the bags down, unwound Irene from her neck and handed the cat to Wazoo. “I almost forgot somethin’. Be back in half an hour or so.” Max, sitting there listening to Bobby say things that could only raise curiosity, destroyed any shred of peace she had managed to restore while she was at work that afternoon.

      “How was your day—the rest of your day?” Max asked.

      This impossible encounter was a nightmare. No…she would not even think about nightmares. It was up to her to change what was happening.

      “Annie?” Max said. His smile did not disguise tension. He’d not only heard every word Bobby said, he must have drawn conclusions she couldn’t bear to think about.

      She breathed in through her nose and concentrated. “Hi, Max.” If she was lucky, she sounded more cheerful than she felt. “This afternoon was great, thanks. Business is steady and that always makes me happy. Kelly came in. He knows how to make a person feel good.”

      “I’m glad to hear it,” Max said but nothing about him relaxed.

      He was worried about Bobby, she could feel it.

      “I came here to meet with Spike. There’s still no news on Michele Riley.”

      Of course, Michele. His concern for her made him anxious and that’s what she was picking up on. “I’m so sorry,” Annie said, constantly aware of Bobby listening. “Kelly talked about it, too. All of you have to be upset.”

      Max’s dark, dark eyes flickered away for a moment. “We are,” he said.

      Annie looked at his mouth. The corners turned up even when he was troubled. “What are they doing to find her?” she said.

      “Searching,” he said. “And checking with friends. The usual procedure, I guess.”

      “How about that coffee?” Bobby said with a forced laugh. “Guess you aren’t in so much of a hurry to leave after all.”

      She continued to look at Max and said, “Bobby’s right. I’d better get on. ‘Bye.”

      Max turned his head to see where Annie went. She got into the Volvo and drove out of sight, but didn’t appear to head back down Main Street. Out of sight from the shop windows, one small street cut to and from the square. Annie might have taken that but she could just as well have used the alley that led to parking places behind this building. He wanted Annie to have gone home rather than set off to drive aimlessly.

      He didn’t want to look at Bobby and even more, he didn’t want to talk to him. The sensation that he’d like to slam him against a wall and demand to know why he was bothering Annie unsettled him. Max got up and went to the counter. Wazoo stood opposite him at once and kept her voice way down. “There’s really big trouble,” she said. “That Annie, she is in danger.”