Page 44 of Agent Zero
Dad might have liked Reese.At least, they would get along, in that military-man way.Not while Dad was sick, though.
Before.When he’d still been the brawny, gruff linchpin of the world.Now Holly wondered if he’d ever felt this kind of fear while struggling through chemo.Maybe his withdrawal hadn’t been strength, closing himself off from the world that had treated him so shabbily.
Maybe he’d just been scared.
“You’re not going to keel over.”Endlessly patient.What would it take to make her traveling companion angry?
Did she want to know?She’d better find out, soon.Just in case.“You can’t smell cancer.”
“Some dogs can.”
“You’re not a dog.”You keep calling yourself one, but you’re not.
“Mmh.”That noncommittal sound again.“Why don’t you go in and get us a table.I’m going to check the motel.”
“Okay.”She reached for her backpack, felt for the doorhandle.Was he just trying to get rid of her?Probably.
“Holly.”Very quietly.
“What?”Why can’t I look at him?At least the diner was bound to have something good on its menu, even though hoping for a decent salad or some pasta was foolish in the extreme.On the other hand, maybe truckers were health nuts.Barb had worked at a truck stop once—good tips, she said,but be ready to smack a few hands away from your rear.
She would never see Barb again.Tony was probably pulling his hair out in fistfuls, bemoaning her lack of reliability.They would think something had happened to her—which, really, something had.But they’d forget her soon enough.
She probably wouldn’t even be able to eat anything on offer here anyway.
“I am not going to let anything happen to you.”Reese said it quietly, almost as if he could read her mind.Almost as if he meant it.
That’s a nice thought.“Okay.”She scrambled to get out of the car, inhaling sharply as the cold hit.Shouldn’t south be warmer?Of course they were tending westward, too, for whatever reason Reese had in his weird little head.
Her stomach growled, so she closed the car door carefully and headed for the diner.
* * *
It was all too familiar—a hum of conversation, clinking dishes, something hitting the grill with a steaming hiss, hurrying feet in sensible shoes.Even smelled the same, grease and heat and overcooked coffee, plus a faint tang of chlorine from the bleach rinse.Holly’s knees almost buckled, but she told herself it was just from spending so long in the car.
“Hep ya?”the waitress on greet duty said, blinking sleepily.Her graying hair, pulled back under a net, was still neatly braided, and though she sounded halfway to dreamland there was a sharp twinkle in her hazel gaze.
“Hello.”Holly tried a tentative smile.“Two, please.”
“Where’s the other?”Rapid-fire, as if the question was repeated several times per day.
What?“At the motel.He sent me to get a table.”
“Just passin’ through?”The waitress—her nametag saidSue—fished out a couple of plastic-covered menus, and slight unease began under Holly’s hair, right at her nape.
“We’re on vacation.”Holly’s tone wasn’t quite cold, but definitely firm.Is it normal to get the third degree when asking for a booth here?
Maybe she looked shabby, or just too tired.Or was this a truckers-only place?
In any case, it must have been the right response, because Sue nodded.“Ah.We get all types here.Smoking or non?”
Holly dredged up a smile.“I prefer non, but whatever you have free.It looks busy.”You need someone to wipe your board, too.I could have that done in a hot minute, if you’d hire me.Was here far enough away to hide?
“It is.”Sue paused.“Most people go straight on into the city from here, except for the boys.They like to stretch their legs, get a meal.”
“The boys?Oh, we saw the truck stop.”Holly followed, nice and docile, and asked for decaf.
The smoking side was packed, and the counter on the nonsmoking side, too.Broad backs, T-shirts and heavy jackets, male laughter.The nonsmoking booths were empty, just a sprinkling of heavyset men, very few women.A bright spill of jukebox music ricocheted from the smoking side as Holly settled on cracked mauve vinyl, keeping her back stiffly away from the faux-needlepoint cushion.Nothing was going to make this sad little place look new again, and she put her backpack on the window side of the booth just to be safe.
