He parked close to the side of the building so that she would be protected when she stepped out. He turned the motor off,
slipped the keys into his jeans, and as he sprinted around the hood of the car, she saw him tuck the gun into his waistband.
They heard rap music blaring as a car pulled into the parking lot. John Paul went to the corner of the building and looked out
front. Four young men in their late teens piled out and stood laughing and guzzling their beers. On top of the old Chevy were two kayaks roped to the roof.
John Paul motioned to Avery to stay put, retraced his steps, and said, "I'm gonna check out the back again."
He let the man at the window watch him walk into the woods, then circled around, swung over the railing at the back door, and looked inside. The woman was hunched over the desk, still talking on the phone.
Even though she was much too young, she reminded him of Ma Kettle from the old movies he used to watch on television when he was a kid. Dressed in dirty overalls and a muted plaid flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up, she was rattling off numbers into the phone as she turned the pages of a Sharper Image catalog. She didn't notice him watching her. He stepped back as the swinging door opened. A man poked his head in the room and braced the door with his hand to keep it from hitting him.
"Chrystal, we got us a problem," he said in a thick hillbilly accent. "There's two cars out front now. Four drunks just got out of one car. They're most likely stoppin' to stock up on more beer, I expect, but I'm most worried about that gal in the other car. She's gonna be knockin' on the front door any second now. I think maybe she spotted me peekin' out the window at her 'cause that car she was in is parked on the side of the building now. Think she's the one?"
"Can you hang on a minute, hon?" Chrystal said into the phone. She turned in the swivel chair and frowned at the dark-haired
man. "Most likely she is, but I'm not finished with this catalog yet, and you promised me I could-"
He interrupted. "Maybe she ain't the one. Maybe she just needs to use the facilities. There was a big fella with her, but he went off into the woods to find his own facilities, I expect, like those four drunken boys. One of them is peein' on the petunias."
"Can't you see I'm busy here, Kenny? If that gal wants to use our facilities, you make her buy something first, and don't let her wander back here. I've still got a good ten pages to go."
"Don't know why you didn't think about doin' that earlier. Had to wait till the last minute, didn't you?"
John Paul went back to the entrance and was on the porch by the time Kenny unbolted the door.
Avery slipped around the corner of the building and ran to stand next to him. He pushed her behind him. He was being protective, and she didn't mind. She was so worried that they might not be in the right place, she couldn't think about anything else.
"Can't you read the sign? We're closed," the man said.
Avery stepped to John Paul's side. "It's an emergency," she blurted.
"Then you got to buy something first."
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me. You got to buy something, and after you pay, I'll let you use the facilities."
Kenny was snarling at her like an attack dog. He was a thoroughly unpleasant-looking man with blue-black dyed hair and bushy brown eyebrows. He wore a dark plaid shirt tucked into his faded black jeans. His gut hung down over his belt.
"Did you hear me?" he asked when she didn't respond. "I ain't gonna budge until you agree."
He changed his mind when John Paul stepped forward. If Kenny hadn't gotten out of the way, he was sure the big man would have walked right over him.
Up close, Kenny was much younger than John Paul had estimated. He couldn't have been more than thirty-five or forty years old. He was also agile. He warily kept his eye on John Paul and hurried around the counter as though the barrier would protect him.
Planting his big hands on the counter, he leaned toward Avery and smiled. One of his eyeteeth had a gold cap that gleamed in the sunlight streaming in through the dirty window. "All right, little lady. I'll tell you what I'm gonna do. Since you're so pretty, I'm gonna break the rules for you. You don't have to buy nothin'. Nothin' at all. The bathroom's right over there," he said, pointing to the door in the far corner.
She shook her head. "My name's Avery Delaney, and this is John Paul Renard. Has anyone come in here asking for us?"
"No," he answered, a little too quickly. He was lying. All the telltale signs were there. He couldn't look her in the eye, and he was becoming more and more agitated by the second. Hostile too.
He kept glancing up at John Paul as he shifted his weight from foot to foot.
The door crashed into the wall when it was thrown open. Avery and Kenny turned to see who was coming inside, but John Paul kept his attention on Kenny. He wasn't going to trust the bastard for as much as a second.
Three of the four boys sauntered in and staggered to a stop when they spotted Avery. She could hear the fourth boy. He was leaning over the porch railing throwing up.
"Hi there," one of them called out. Another tried to whistle, but he couldn't get his lips to work. Spit sprayed out of his mouth instead.
Two of the boys were obviously brothers, for they looked alike and sported identical eagle tattoos on their forearms. The oldest-looking one of the group had a scraggly goatee and a pierced eyebrow with a silver ring.
"The store's closed," Kenny shouted.
"No, it ain't," Goatee said. "You let them in," he added, pointing to Avery and John Paul. "We only want some beer."
"Yeah, beer," one of the brothers parroted.
They staggered toward the cooler against the back wall. One of them tripped into a display of cans and sent them careening everywhere. Goatee thought that was hilarious.
Kenny wasn't amused. He looked as if he wanted to kill someone. "You pick up every damned one of them cans and put them back like I had them. You hear me?"
A brother snickered while Goatee gave Kenny the finger.
"Get the hell out of my store," Kenny bellowed. He turned his wrath on Avery next. "If you ain't gonna use my facilities, and you ain't gonna buy nothin', then maybe you folks ought to leave."
"What about phone calls?" she asked, sounding as desperate as she was feeling. "Have you gotten any calls for me?"
"No."
One of the brothers was standing about three feet away from Avery and was fixated on her as he swayed on his feet. His stare was unnerving.
"Stop staring at me."
He grinned stupidly at her, then lunged with both arms outstretched with the obvious intent of hugging her.
John Paul was about to pull Avery into his side, but she was already moving. She lashed out at the drunk with a kick that was quick and effortless. Her foot struck him square in the stomach and sent him flying into the wall. He hit with a loud thud, slid down, and landed on his butt.
She pointed a finger at him. "You stay there."
And still the stupid grin remained on the drunk's face. He was too far gone to feel any pain.
She turned her attention to Kenny again. "May I use your phone?" Out of the corner of her eye she spotted Goatee and the
other brother coming around the corner. Each of them had two six-packs of beer and a bag of ice. She didn't mince words.
"Over there, both of you. Sit down next to your friend and be quiet until I'm finished."
Goatee shook his head. "You can't tell me what to do, sweet cakes."
"We don't have a phone," Kenny muttered at the very same time.
"Sure you do," John Paul asserted as he stepped toward Kenny.
"What happened, Mark?" the other brother asked.
Goatee strode forward, thinking he could elbow his way between Avery and John Paul.