The Last of the Moon Girls(96)
He glowered at her, clearly frustrated. “I can’t tell if you’re kidding.”
Lizzy managed a half smile. “Only a little.”
She understood his concerns for her safety, but the truth was she couldn’t think of anything more dangerous than spending two or three days with Andrew in Boston. It would be too easy to backslide, to surrender to the delicious pull of memory. She needed to keep her distance and give her resolve time to jell.
Andrew pulled his keys from his pocket, removed one from the ring, and laid it on the counter. “You’ll stay at my place again tonight.”
“Andrew—”
“Don’t worry. I won’t be there. From the sound of things, I’ll be gone several days, which means you’ll have the place to yourself. There isn’t much in the fridge, though, so you’ll still need to hit the market. Make sure you drive over. Don’t cut through the woods. And make sure everything’s locked up once you’re in.”
Lizzy looked at him, stung by his frosty tone. She wished there was something between icy aloofness and the hot sting of rebuff, some middle ground where they could coexist in the wake of last night’s brief lapse in judgment. Again, she found herself casting about for something to say—for anything to say. But they’d already said it all. Except perhaps goodbye.
It was nearly three by the time Lizzy arrived at the market. It was a relief to have the trip to the police station behind her. She understood the need, but she’d known before setting foot in the station that nothing would come of it.
Detective Hammond had run her through the questions. No, she hadn’t seen the intruder’s face. No, there was nothing she recognized about him. No, nothing had been taken from the house. The only detail she felt confident in sharing was that the intruder appeared to have been male, and even that was speculation.
The entire interview had taken less than an hour and had ended with Hammond handing her his card, encouraging her to call if she happened to remember anything else. He’d promised to keep her apprised of future developments but hadn’t sounded especially optimistic. Perhaps because the knife had turned up negative for prints.
The market was relatively quiet. Lizzy wandered the aisles, picking up enough to get her through the next few days at Andrew’s, then turned down the household aisle. A Google search on how to clean up fingerprint dust had suggested microfiber cloths and a multipurpose cleaner with ammonia. She grabbed several of both, then headed for the checkout, eager to get back to her work in the barn before tackling the mess in the house.
Unfortunately, there was only one cashier working, and three people already in line. Lizzy scanned the tabloid headlines to pass the time, played peekaboo with the sticky-faced toddler in the cart in front of her, browsed the display of gum and mints. Finally, the mother of the toddler paid for her groceries and told her son to wave goodbye to the pretty lady.
Lizzy fumbled in her purse for her debit card while the cashier scanned her items. About halfway through, the woman looked up. Her hand stilled, her pasted-on smile slipping as she locked eyes with Lizzy. Her hair was different, pulled back in a lank ponytail, and she was wearing a heavy layer of foundation, but there was no mistaking the woman who, a few weeks back, had given her a chilly once-over from the customer service desk. Lizzy glanced at her name badge—Helen.
Helen dropped her gaze and resumed her work, avoiding eye contact until it was time to collect her money. “Thirty-seven twenty-six is your total.”
Lizzy slid her debit card into the reader, tapped in her PIN, then waited for Helen to bag her order. Getting the cold shoulder wasn’t new, but her nerves were still raw after the events of the last twenty-four hours, and it irked more than usual.
“Have a nice day,” Lizzy huffed as she lifted the pair of paper bags into her arms. She didn’t realize Helen had stepped from behind the checkout until they collided, dislodging a pair of peaches from one of the bags and sending them skittering across the floor.
Before Lizzy could bend down to retrieve them, Helen beat her to the punch. She met Lizzy’s gaze squarely as she dropped the peaches back into her bag, her brown eyes flat and unblinking. “You should be more careful, Ms. Moon. I’d feel awful if you ended up getting hurt.”
Lizzy gaped at her, preparing to point out that it was she who had caused the collision, and not the other way around, but something in Helen’s gaze brought her up short. The seconds stretched, awkward and bristling, until Lizzy finally stepped around her and headed for the door.
In the car, she replayed the incident as she pulled out into traffic, wondering if she’d misread the look on Helen’s face, and overreacted in the wake of her recent run-in with Fred Gilman. There’d been nothing inherently threatening about Helen’s words. Quite the opposite, in fact. She’d merely warned her to be more careful.
Warned.
The word sent a chill through her. Was it possible Helen had smashed into her on purpose, manufacturing an opportunity to speak to her? Or was she simply being paranoid because a man with a knife had crept into her kitchen last night?
At the next traffic signal, Lizzy made a U-turn and headed back to the market. She parked near the entrance and left her purse on the seat. She was probably about to make a complete fool of herself, but she didn’t care. It wouldn’t be the first time a Moon had made a public spectacle of herself.