Eye of the Falcon (Psychic Visions #12)(38)

He stared at her, hardness coming into his eyes. His tone like flint, he said, “Did I ask you for any money? No. Lunch is on me, and make sure you order something substantial. Otherwise I’ll order for you. And we will stay here to make sure you eat it.”

She glared at him. “Are you always this bossy?”

“When people piss me off, yes.”

And she realized she’d offended him. Muttering, she said, “I’m sorry.” She settled in to study the menu. Her stomach was still touchy. She didn’t dare fill it too much. They had a beef and barley soup. She put her mind to that. “I think I will have the bowl of soup. That might stay down.”

He considered her for a long moment and nodded. “Too much of anything would likely upset your system.” When he placed their order, he added French bread to her order.

She sat back, feeling the fatigue of the long drive in her bones. “How long until we’re at your home again?”

“About thirty-five minutes. Do you think you can handle a clothing store for a couple pairs of pants and Tshirts, shoes and socks?”

She shivered and pulled her arms around her chest tighter. “I’m not sure about Tshirts. I’m still so cold. I need sweaters.”

He frowned.

She leaned forward. “Is there a thrift store around? Obviously my body weight is very low. We could find some sweatpants and sweatshirts cheap until I can put some weight back on. And right now I don’t care what I look like, as long as I’m warm.”

He lifted his gaze in surprise.

She shrugged. “I know. My mother was a skinflint, and apparently I picked up a few of her habits.”

He chuckled. “It’s not necessarily a bad thing.”

The food arrived. He’d ordered a burger and fries, and her soup bowl was an impressive size. When the French bread was delivered, she knew she couldn’t eat both. She shook her head. “If I keep eating like this, I will build my weight back up with no problem.”

“It’ll take months.” He kept his gaze locked on her. “What was your body weight before you went missing?”

She frowned and glanced down. “I’ve always been lean,” she confessed.

“One hundred and twenty-five pounds?” he hazarded a guess, and she nodded.

“My mother had a scale. I think the last time I weighed myself, I was about a hundred and twenty-four pounds.” She wondered at a man who could pin her weight so accurately. “What would you expect me to weigh now?”

He shook his head. “I’d be surprised if you weighed a hundred and eight.”

It was hard to stare at her hands, the skin so thin that the veins showed through. “I got mononucleosis when I was in high school. I dropped down under the one hundred mark to around ninety-four pounds, but, even then, I wasn’t in this condition.”

“This condition isn’t just loss of weight. It’s malnourishment, stress, and injuries. What they did to you has accelerated the damage.”

She picked up her spoon and took a sip of the soup. It was delicious. “Well, at least they won’t have a chance to do it to me again.”

“It’s still a lot of damage and a lot of physical decline for just a couple or three weeks.”

“They were very rough weeks.” She took another sip of the soup, and suddenly she couldn’t get enough. She was hungry, and the soup hit the spot. She stopped all efforts of maintaining her calm and literally inhaled it. She did try to dip the French bread into the broth, but the slice was thick and not a whole lot of the broth came away with it. By the time she hit the bottom of the bowl, she broke up the French bread, softening it, but she couldn’t finish it.

She sat back. “Now that was good.” She stared in amazement at the bowl. “I didn’t think I’d be able to eat it all.”

“That’s because your body has been starved.”

She nodded. “We should probably pick up some multivitamins or something to help me get back on top again.”

He didn’t say anything but worked his way through his fries and burger.

She sipped her coffee and asked, “How do I go about getting my ID?”

“Hopefully we’ll find some documents, like your birth certificate, to make that job simpler.”

She brightened. “Right. I forgot about the boxes.”

By the time they went back out to the truck, she was in a pleasant state—feeling warm, cozy—and the fear had fallen back.

When he pulled into a large thrift store, she laughed. “See? This was a good idea.”

“I don’t know that it is,” he admitted. “But I couldn’t figure out what kind of clothing store would have clothes in your size. I was tempted to take you to a kid’s store.”

She shot him a look of outrage. “I’m sure we can find something here that works. And I’d feel much better if it didn’t cost an arm and a leg. I do intend to pay back every penny you spend on me.”

She ignored the fact he slammed the truck door hard at her words. She’d been raised to be independent, and she had no intention of taking advantage of the situation. But she needed to find something that would somewhat fit at this store.

With his help and a cart, she pulled out several pairs of sweatpants, a couple pairs of jeans, a few leggings, long-sleeve shirts, sweaters, and sweatshirts. When he looked through the winter jackets, she protested, seeing the tickets on some of these items were quite large.