He might be carrying, of course, on the ankle or in the waistband. Could just be a creep not used to seeing a pretty woman. Could be some kind of weirdo with specific ideas about when women should be outside, making a point about them being out here on their own past midnight. Could be that Rebecca reminded him of someone.
Or maybe he knew where they were going and had made it his business to stop them.
Cait looked at Rebecca, still lost in her own thoughts. She hadn’t clocked the guy yet. Good. It meant she would have less time to freak out when Cait made her move. In the dark glass of the window, she could see that the man had turned his body away from them, but also that the mirrored chrome above the pass-through to the kitchen allowed him to watch them. She caught his eye in the reflection and felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.
Time to go.
Rebecca looked at Cait, and Cait gave her the look. It was the sort of look a woman learns to feel rather than see. Cait flicked her eyes toward the man at the counter and then gave a barely perceptible shake of her head. Rebecca’s face transformed into a mask of raw fear.
“What do you say?” Cait asked, as calmly as she could manage. “Back on the road?”
Rebecca nodded, her eyes still fixed on Cait’s. She was scared—that was obvious—but she was keeping her cool. Cait was impressed. She reached a hand across the table and lightly tapped her wrist.
“Don’t look,” Cait said quietly.
Rebecca nodded. “I’ll get the check,” she said. Her voice was shaking a little but steady.
“No time.” Cait dropped a twenty-dollar bill on the table. No time to wait for change—the waitress really would be getting a good tip. “Ready?”
Rebecca went first, Cait close behind while she kept one eye locked on the man. He didn’t seem to see Cait at all: his gaze was all for Rebecca. He tracked her all the way across the diner, but he didn’t make a move. He just watched. That was worse, in a way. If he tried something here, there would be witnesses. Those guys in the back might decide to play the role of hero. The chef would at least have a knife at hand, and she’d be surprised if there wasn’t a gun tucked under the counter. Place like this, out in the middle of nowhere, people usually didn’t take chances.
Cait glanced out the window at the empty stretch of parking lot. Once they were outside, they’d be on their own.
The door jangled as Rebecca opened it. The waitress looked up from her crossword and, once she clocked the money lying on their table, gave them a half-hearted wave. Cait couldn’t remember the door jangling earlier. How had she not heard him come in? She’d let her guard down, gotten too comfortable. She’d been sloppy, and now they were going to pay for it.
A step across the threshold and they were outside, the air sharp and cold on their faces, sprinting across the parking lot together. The El Camino was long gone, but the pickup was still there. Other than that, it was empty. The Jeep was on the far side of the lot. Cait berated herself for not parking closer to the building. The tarmac stretched in front of them, endless and black. Cait gripped her keys between her fingers and listened for his footsteps, sure she was about to feel his hands on her throat. She could hear Rebecca’s ragged breath, and the echo of their shoes slapping against the pavement, but the door behind them didn’t chime. He was still inside.
Unless he’d used the back exit.
Just a few more steps.
She hit the unlock button on the key ring and the headlights flashed on.
The two women dove inside and slammed the doors behind them.
Rebecca hit the locks.
Cait threw the Jeep into reverse.
She cast one last glance through the window as they peeled out onto the road. The counter was empty. The man was gone.
Jake
“The thing that gets me,” Jake said, dangling his beer bottle by its neck, “is I feel like she tricked me. You know?”
Craig ducked his head, which was his way of showing he was listening. It reminded Jake of being in confession as a kid, lying about how many times he’d punched his brother, leaving out the impure thoughts.