"Steak and fries."
She jotted it down on her pad. "How would you like your steak?"
"Well done."
"Can I get you a salad to go with that?"
"No, thanks."
"Gotcha." She smiled at him again, a real smile this time, because he looked like he could use one. He smiled back and she realized that he wasn't bad looking.
"You've got pretty hair," he remarked. "Is it natural?"
She nodded, a sudden jolt of fear coursing through her. The murderer liked women with red hair.
"I'd better turn your order in," she said, and hurried away from the table.
What should she do? Should she call Ned and Arnie? Maybe she was overreacting.
Lots of men had remarked on the color of her hair. But there was a killer on the loose now, a killer whose victims had all been women with red hair and green eyes.
When his order came up, Vicki took Bobbie Sue aside. "Remember that favor you owe me? Well, take this order to table four and finish my shift, will you, and we'll call it square."
"Sure, girlfriend. Something wrong?"
"No." Vicki thrust the tray into Bobbie Sue's hands. "I'll see you tomorrow night."
Going into the back room, Vicki grabbed her coat, then opened the kitchen door. "Gus, I'm going home."
"You sick?"
"No. Bobbie Sue's going to cover for me for until closing. I'll see you tomorrow night."
"You sure everything's okay?" he asked, his brow furrowed with concern.
"I'm sure. Night, Gus."
"G'night, kid."
Slipping into her coat, Vicki ducked out the back door into the parking lot.
She was about to get into her car when a tingling down her spine warned her that she was no longer alone.
"You should park out front," a deep voice remarked. "Under a light."
She whirled around, her mind racing. Her keys. She could use them for a weapon if she had to. Or she could just scream. Someone in the diner would surely hear her. She wished that she had remembered to take Arnie's advice and asked Gus to walk her out to her car.
"No need to cause a scene," the man said. "I just want to ask you a couple of questions."
It was the man from the diner. She clutched her keys tightly in one hand. "Questions about what?"
"My name is Tom Duncan. I'm looking for someone. A man about five foot ten. Looks to be in his late thirties. Blond hair. Yellow eyes."
"Yellow eyes?"
"Have you seen him?"
"No. And believe me, I'd remember someone with yellow eyes. Are you a cop?"
"No."
"Why are you looking for this guy?"
"It's personal."
"Well, I haven't seen him. Good night, Mr. Duncan."
"Good night, ma'am. You'd best be more careful in the future. Try to park under a light, and keep your doors… "
"Yes, I know. Keep my doors locked and don't invite any strangers into the house."
The man's gaze grew sharp. "Who told you that?"
"Practically everybody. You, the police… an acquaintance of mine."
"Have any strangers approached you?"
"Just you. Like I said, it's not likely I'd forget someone with yellow eyes."
"What's the name of this acquaintance? Is it someone you've just met?"
For a man who claimed he wasn't a cop, he sure sounded like one. "Yes, his name is…
" She paused, suddenly reluctant to give out Antonio Battista's name. She didn't know this man. Of course, she didn't really know Antonio, either. "I'm sorry, Mr. Duncan, I don't think I should give out that information."
"It might be very important, Vicki."
"How did you know my name?"
He gestured at her uniform.
Of course, she thought, feeling foolish, it was on her name tag. "Who are you, anyway?"
"I'm a bounty hunter."
"A bounty hunter!" she repeated skeptically. "Didn't they die out along with the cowboy and the buffalo?"
"No, ma'am. We're still doing our job."
"So, you're looking for Yellow Eyes to collect a bounty? What did he do?"
"He's wanted for murder."
"Murder! Is he the one who killed Sharlene and the others?"
"It's very likely. Are you sure you haven't seen him?"
She nodded, overcome by a wave of relief. Antonio wasn't the killer.
"Thank you for your help, Vicki. If you see him, run like hell." He scribbled something on the back of a card and handed it to her. "That's my cell phone. Call me if you need me."
She tucked the card into her skirt pocket. She could feel him watching her as she slid behind the wheel. She locked her door, switched on the engine, turned on the lights.
She glanced out the rearview mirror as she drove out of the parking lot. He was still standing there, watching her, his hands jammed into his pants pockets.
She shook her head. First Antonio, then the murders, and now this bounty hunter looking for some guy with yellow eyes. If she didn't know better, she'd think she was in the middle of a nightmare that refused to end.
She drove home faster than she should have and felt an overwhelming sense of relief when she pulled into the driveway. She stopped in front of the garage and stared at the door. Call her a coward, but there was no way she was driving into that dark garage tonight.
Shutting off the engine, she took the key from the ignition. She was about to open the car door when she happened to glance up at the front porch.
And saw a pair of glowing yellow eyes staring back at her.
Chapter 7
Frozen in terror, Vicki stared at the unblinking yellow eyes. He was here. The murderer was here, waiting for her on the front porch.
She made a stab at putting the key back into the ignition so she could restart the car and get the hell out of there before it was too late, but her hand was shaking so badly she couldn't manage it.
He was here!
She was still trying to put the key in the ignition when the yellow eyes blinked at her.
Laughter bordering on hysteria rose in Vicki's throat as her neighbor's black cat jumped off the railing and disappeared into the hedge that separated her property from his.
Vicki sat in the car for a minute, taking deep breaths while she waited for her heart to stop pounding. When her breathing had returned to normal, she opened the car door.
Feeling foolish and relieved, she grabbed her handbag and got out of the car. Shaking her head, she climbed the stairs and reached for the doorknob. She frowned when the door didn't open and then blew out a breath of exasperation when she remembered she had locked it. She fumbled in the dark as she tried to insert the key into the lock. If she was going to start locking the front door, she was going to have to remember to leave the porch light on so she could see what she was doing.