Chapter 35

The air was stale and stagnant as Steele stepped into the alley from the Red Dog Saloon. He ducked behind a stack of crates he had seen when entering the bar to allow his eyes to adjust in the scant light. A person waiting in the shadows would have an advantage over someone emerging from the well-lit bar. Steele had stored that information somewhere in his brain the last time he had been there and his action was automatic. That kind of instinct kept him alive.

When his pupils adjusted to allow more light in, Steele scanned the alley for danger. It only took a few seconds. Then he walked away from the light spilling from the saloon and faded into the darkness, strolling back up the alley toward Main Street. His eyes constantly active. His ears alert.

Steele stopped about thirty yards before the end of the alley. Movement at his car had caught his eye. A figure. Not a large person but, at that distance with the streetlight providing the only illumination, he couldn’t make out much. He continued on at a slower pace, hugging the side wall where the shadows were thicker, watching intently at the figure while also checking for any movement within the alley. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as the familiar adrenaline flooded his body.

The person next to his car turned to look down the alley. Steele flattened himself against a boarded storefront window. His body was as stiff as the plywood he leaned against. The only movement was his eyeballs as he watched the figure over his right shoulder, and his heart muscle pumping inside his chest. The person was wearing a skirt. It was a woman. Maybe five and a half feet tall. Slender. Dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. Dark complexioned. Hispanic. She stared right at him. And then she turned to gaze down Main Street.

Steele glanced at his dark clothing and surroundings. All she probably saw was blackness. Did she have something to do with the couple at the table? The man’s wife? Another young girlfriend? She looked uneasy and was obviously waiting for something. Or someone. The woman continued to fidget. When she turned her back to Steele his swift, long strides covered the remaining fifteen yards with the light-footedness of a panther. Steele stopped right behind her. Towering over her.

The woman turned again. Her shoulder bumped into Steele and her nose brushed the shirt covering his chest. With a shrill screech, she leapt backward, banging into the side of his rental car. She sucked in a deep breath and gawked up at his face with wide eyes. Panic-filled eyes. Her hand flew to cover her open mouth.

“I’m sorry,” Steele said. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“What are you doing here?”

“This is my car.”

She leaned back against the vehicle, creating as much space between them as possible. “I mean behind me.”

Steele stepped back. “I didn’t mean to crowd you. I was going to ask you why you were hanging out next to my car. And then you just turned around.”

The woman shuffled crablike to her left with her upper body tilted back, sliding along the fender, her large pocketbook hanging from her shoulder dragging on the metal, her eyes locked on Steele’s face. Now with some distance between them, she stood up straight. Her large pocketbook slid off her shoulder. She caught the strap with her thumb and guided it back onto her shoulder.

“This is your car?” she said.

“Yes.”

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

Steele raised an eyebrow. He crossed his arms, but remained silent. The woman held onto her pocketbook strap with a deathlike grip. Like she was holding a lifeline.

The woman glanced down and back up. “I was waiting for you.”

“You already said that.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. It’s just that you surprised me. I didn’t expect you to be so big.”

The woman’s knuckles on the hand gripping the shoulder strap were white. Her breathing ragged. Steele had seen panic attacks before. He reached out to lay a hand on her shoulder. She jumped back.

“Why were you waiting for me?” Steele said in the calmest voice he could muster.

“I hit your car.”

“What do you mean?”

“I wasn’t paying attention. I was driving and hit your car and broke the light.”

Steele looked around and saw the sedan parked behind his. He walked to the rear of his vehicle. The other car had Mexican license plates. He continued on between the two cars and saw the exposed bulb for his left brake light. Bits of broken red plastic sprinkled the ground. Along with a rock the size of a fist. There was no damage to the woman’s car. He walked back to where she was waiting.

“So you’re an honest woman,” Steele said.

“What do you mean?”

“You hit my car and didn’t leave the scene. I call that honest.”

“It was my fault.”

“And I thank you for doing the right thing. Let’s forget about it.”

The woman’s eyes opened wide. “That’s all! Don’t you want me to pay for it?”

“For what? A broken tail light? It’s no big deal.”

The woman stared at her feet as she shuffled them. She twisted her right foot on the concrete as if she were squishing a cigarette. She looked back up. “I thought you’d be mad.”

“For a broken tail light? At an honest woman? One as pretty as you.”

The woman lowered her eyes and covered her face with her left hand. The right one still clutched the pocketbook strap in a death grip. She dropped the hand from her face to her side. Even in the dim light her cheeks glowed a little red. Steele noticed the absence of a ring although there was a band of paler skin.

“Are you sure you are all right?” Steele said.

“What do you mean?”

“You seem upset. Nervous. It’s just a tail light.”

“I didn’t expect you to be so nice.”

“So you were expecting someone shorter and not nice. I hope I didn’t disappoint you.”

“Oh no! I didn’t know what to expect.”

“Fair enough. Do you live in Cactus Point?”

“No. In Diablo del Norte.”

Steele stifled the surprised expression before it formed on his face. He held out his hand.

“My name is Lincoln Steele. Friends call me Linc.”

The woman stared at his hand and then unraveled her fingers from the pocketbook strap and shook it. Her palm was sweaty.