Page 22 of Hold Your Breath
“Of course.” The touch of disapproval in his tone made her clench her molars as she gave him a wide grin showing lots of teeth. “Once a year, whether it needs it or not.”
The appalled look on his face made her laugh for real.
“Good night, Cal.”
Stepping back, he checked to make sure she was clear of the door before closing it. He lifted a hand and watched as she backed out of her parking spot. When she turned onto Main Street and headed for the highway and home, she glanced in her rearview mirror.
Callum was still standing where she’d left him, illuminated by the sodium lights of the Simpson Bar parking lot, looking gorgeous and strong and achingly alone.
Chapter 5
The next day, an unseasonably warm spell brought hordes of people out of hibernation and directly to The Coffee Spot. It was late afternoon before the shop emptied, and Lou finally had the chance to pull out her laptop and log onto the Internet.
But before she had time to do anything else, the sleigh bells from hell jangled, announcing the entrance of yet another customer. Biting back the curses that wanted to escape, she closed her laptop and plastered on a smile.
“What can I get…oh, Cal!” Her fake smile morphed into a real one. “Thank God. I’ve been dying to talk with you. My brain wouldn’t turn off last night. I just kept thinking about everything Belly told us, so now I have a gazillion questions.”
Although he wasn’t smiling, his expression was slightly more pleasant than his usual dark scowl. He held out his travel mug, and Lou filled it while still talking.
“We now know a lot more. I mean, HDG had—”
“H-what?” he interrupted.
Flushing a little, she explained, “HDG, as in Headless Dead Guy. Sorry, I know that’s insensitive, but I had to call him something, so I’ve been referring to him as HDG in my head, and it just slipped out.”
Callum looked more amused than offended. “The job—the dive team, not the coffee job—tends to make all of us more callous. Just watch how you talk around civilians.”
“That’s what the initials are for. So I don’t actually say the words ‘headless’ or ‘dead.’” She grinned. “Anyway, now we know he’d been in the Army, had diabetes, and was missing two toes. So I’m wondering if we should check out the nearest veterans’ hospital? Or maybe a VFW or something?”
He sipped his coffee, considering.
“I like your idea about the VA hospital, but how are you planning on getting any information? With HIPA, they won’t give out patient information to random people.”
Making a face, she admitted, “You’re right. I hadn’t thought it out that far.” She rested her chin on her cupped hand, her elbow propped on the counter, and thought. “So we probably won’t get any information from the staff, but what about the other patients?”
He nodded slowly. “The VA hospital in Denver is probably too large for that to work, but the closest VA outpatient clinic is in Connor Springs, just about twenty miles from here. Want to take a field trip?”
“Yes!” Bouncing up onto her toes, she restrained the urge to flip the sign in the window to “Closed,” lock the coffee shop door, and head to Connor Springs that very moment. Reality intruded, and she sighed, lowering back down to her heels. “I’m off tomorrow—would you be able to get away from work?” As the team leader, Callum was the only paid staff member on the dive team. From what Lou saw, he earned every penny of his paycheck, often working twelve-hour days dealing with local board members and still taking calls at night.
“Yes. Board meeting’s tomorrow evening, so my morning will be free. I’ll pick you up at eight.”
Wiggling around in a tight circle, she did a little dance of excitement. “Field trip!”
When she finished her final rotation, Lou realized that Callum was watching her, frozen with his travel mug halfway to his mouth. With a shake of his head, he pushed off of his stool and headed out the door.
“Don’t you want me to top off your coffee for you?” she called after him, but the only answer she received was the wordless clang of the bells against the door.
* * *
She stared at the green leaf lettuce as if it had done something to offend her.
“Six dollars,” she muttered under her breath, eyeing the wilting tips of the leaves balefully. “Not worth it.”
With a sigh, she poked around in the stack of lettuce bunches before giving up on greens. As she walked to the measly display of apples, she knew she had no one to blame for her lack of fresh produce except herself. If she had sucked it up and gone to Denver that morning, she wouldn’t be poking through expensive and unappealing vegetables and fruit at the local grocery store.
She hated driving to Denver with a passion, though. Too many people, too much traffic, too…everything. Plus, if the weather took a turn for the worse, she could get stuck there overnight, which meant her woodstove would go out, and her pipes could freeze. Lou found she could get away with ordering almost everything she needed online, but fresh food remained a challenge. When she’d lived in Connecticut, she’d never considered fresh vegetables a luxury. The difference between her former life and current existence boggled her mind sometimes. She couldn’t believe it’d only been seven months since she’d escaped to the mountains.
Roaming the aisles with little enthusiasm, she was examining an on-sale jar of bread-and-butter pickles when her nose twitched. There was a nasty smell floating her way—body odor and pot, mostly, mixed with patchouli. She turned her head and immediately identified the source. Smelly Jim. Of course. The bearded man was an occasional coffee shop visitor, requiring a cappuccino and, once he left, half a spray bottle of cinnamon air freshener and the windows open for as long as possible before the customers started complaining about the cold.
