Mask Of A Hunter. Sylvie Kurtz
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long stainless-steel counter along the side, the round white tables in the middle and the booths forming an L along the far edge and the window wall. The place was bustling with activity, especially along the counter. The aroma of fresh-baked cinnamon rolls and coffee sent her stomach gurgling. A harried waitress shouted, “Seat yourself, honey.”
Rory chose a newly vacated booth by the window and Hannah was soon busily reaching for the caddy of sugar packets, the tray of jelly tubs, and the bowl of butter pats wrapped in foil. Clumsily, Rory pushed each out of reach while trying to free the baggie of Cheerios and the purple bear she’d stuffed in the pockets of her jacket.
“Hi, sweetie,” a tired-eyed blonde armed with a coffeepot crooned at Hannah. Hannah’s bright answering smile and babble said this wasn’t a stranger. “Coffee?”
“Please.”
The blonde gave Rory a series of quick looks, as if she wanted to stare but didn’t dare. “You must be Felicia’s sister.” Her voice croaked.
“Rory.”
“Oh, that’s different. What can I get you?” She didn’t offer her name in return, but it was there on the red tag tacked to her white polo shirt. Heidi.
Was Rory imagining the nerves? She glanced at the chalkboard menu on the wall, keeping Heidi in her peripheral vision. She was hungry enough to eat the lumberjack special, but settled for French toast. She could handle that and Hannah at the same time.
“Great,” Heidi said. “I’ll be back with a high chair for Hannah.” She couldn’t seem to get away fast enough. That didn’t bode well for a flowing supply of coffee—or answers.
“Wait!” Rory extended an arm across the table to keep the coffee cup from Hannah’s curious grip. “Have you heard anything from Felicia?”
Clicking her pen like a twitchy rabbit, Heidi stood frozen. She tucked her pad and pen in the pockets of her red apron and cleared her throat. “Not since we last worked a shift together.”
“When was that?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Four, five days.”
She knew something. Of that, Rory was sure. Why else would she be so nervous? “I know you’re busy now, but when the rush dies down, could I talk to you for a few minutes?”
Heidi glanced toward the kitchen, then wrenched her lips into a strained smile. “Okay, I guess.”
Heidi was no sooner gone than the bells on the door jingled, and Ace folded his long limbs into her booth. “Crowded,” he said by way of explanation.
He was back to pirate mode this morning. His uniform matched Mike’s—except Ace’s T-shirt was plain white and no sign of tattoos peeked above his collar or beneath his cuffs. Why was it so hot in here all of a sudden? She unzipped Hannah’s jacket and stuffed it in her tote bag, started wriggling out of hers, then changed her mind. Ace had a way of making her feel transparent.
A busty brunette settled a mug of coffee in front of Ace without asking if he wanted any. Must be a regular.
“Hi, there, handsome.” She all but batted her lashes. Disgusting the way some women threw themselves at men.
“Meg.” His smile was one of a man who knew he had the interest of a woman and enjoyed it. Was she part of his job of fitting into town?
“Heidi’ll be right with you.” Meg’s tone suggested she found this personal loss regrettable. Rory couldn’t see the appeal. Why would anyone want someone so hard and unyielding as a partner? Of course, maybe partnership didn’t enter into the equation.
“What are you doing here?” Rory caught the bits of paper Hannah dropped as she ripped a napkin to shreds. “Not checking up on me, I hope.”
He studied the chalkboard menu. “I’m eating breakfast before I go to work. So’s most of this crowd. Ease up on the starch, sweetheart. It’s bad for your arteries.”
“You can’t cook for yourself.” Rory snagged the knife out of Hannah’s reach and distracting her with two more Cheerios.
“I can take care of myself.” He added a container of half and half to his coffee. “Sleep okay?”
“You are checking up on me.”
“It’s my job, remember.” Taking a swallow of coffee, he seemed to take apart her face, recording each tired line, the twin half moons bruising the skin beneath her eyes, the matte sallowness of her skin for a memo regarding her inadequacies.
Why that look managed to both unhinge her and make her feel guilty she had no clue, but she refused to squirm under his scrutiny. Having her here was not his idea, and having to deal with him was not hers. They’d both have to get over it. She beamed her most sugary smile at him. “I can take care of myself.”
“Here you go.” Heidi jammed a wooden high chair at the edge of the table. Then she looked at Ace. “The usual?”
He nodded.
As Rory slipped Hannah into the high chair, she raised a brow in question.
“See and be seen,” he said in a low voice that barely exercised his lips.
“You eat out every day?”
“Most.”
“Part of the job.”
His mouth curved up. “You catch on quick.”
Soon both their orders arrived. Even though Hannah had already had breakfast, she cooed at the sight of the French toast, so Rory cut her a finger-sized slice and let her gum away at it.
Ace dug into his lumberjack special. “What are your plans for today?”
“See and be seen.”
He chuckled. “You’ve already made an impression.”
“On who?” The French toast practically melted in her mouth. Her stomach appreciated that she finally fed it.
“Mike.”
She sniggered. Her opinion of Mike didn’t rank too high. She couldn’t care less what he thought of her.
Ace spread strawberry jelly on his toast. “You should care.”
“What are you?” She pointed a fork at him. “A mind reader?”
“Your every thought is a billboard.”
God, I hope not, she thought, as she concentrated on cutting another finger of French toast for Hannah. The last thing she needed was for him to know how uncomfortable he made her. “Why should I care?”
“Because even though there’s a board of selectmen who runs the town, what Mike wants pretty much goes.” His face was a mask of joviality, and when he spoke, the noise of the diner nearly cloaked his voice.
She cocked her head and tried to read the granite set of his face. “And if I don’t play nice—”
“You don’t get any of your questions answered.”
“Noted.”
He paused over his eggs. “Rory—”
“I’m not stupid.”
“I never said you were. Just determined.”
“I need to find her.”
“I know. But you digging might make things harder for Felicia.”
She stopped her fork midway to her mouth. “What do you mean?”
He handed Hannah the corner of toast she was reaching for. His voice was low, barely above a whisper. “There’s more than Felicia at stake here. Can you understand that?”
She stirred a bite of French toast in the lake of maple syrup at the bottom of her plate and sighed. She could understand how stopping the traffic