I Know Lucy (A Fugitive #1)(11)

Her last meal had been the scraps from a garbage can. She didn’t think she’d ever smile again.

Why she wanted to even live, she wasn’t sure.

That man had taken everything from her in less than ten minutes.

She was surprised she didn’t feel unguarded rage at him, but it hadn’t surfaced yet. She figured she was probably still in shock or something. Maybe the anger would come, but for now, she was living on instinct and it was telling her to somehow survive this.

The waitress walked away and Lucy gently picked up her burger, her stomach cramping at the very idea of consuming it. It took all her will power not to stuff the food into her mouth. She probably would have if she hadn’t gobbled the first mouthful down so fast and nearly choked. She felt the lump of un-chewed food ease into her stomach. It was a slow and painful process. After that, she took a breath and had a smaller mouthful, savoring the flavors, pretending for a moment that she was a normal girl grabbing a bite to eat on her way home.

Except normal girls had a home and they wouldn’t have been out at midnight in some cheap diner feeling shaky and weak from days of terror-filled running.

Swallowing back the depressing thoughts, she focussed on the burger, taking another mouthful and just chewing.

Chew Lucy. Just chew and don’t think.

She was nearly finished with her burger when she noticed him. He was a lanky boy and looked to be in his late teens. His sunken cheeks were gaunt and his big grey eyes studied her with a haunted look. They almost bulged from his face and reminded Lucy of a fish. She swallowed down her mouthful, looking away.

A couple of french fries later she glanced up and he was still staring at her. She tried to grin, do something polite to get him off her back. Maybe a scowl would be better.

She hardened her gaze, but it didn’t deter him. A second later he flicked his head towards the TV and it wasn’t until then that she finally tuned into the news anchor’s voice.

“…Found dead in their home on Tuesday night. The police are still unwilling to comment on the exact details of the victims’ deaths, but it is clear that Jack and Edith Tate were murdered. The FBI are determined to discover the person responsible for this tragedy. Special Agent William Tenner has said that they will be doing everything in their power to bring the culprit to justice. Many questions remain, the most prevalent being, where is their daughter Lucy? Was she taken by the person responsible for this crime? Or is she in fact the prime suspect?”

What did she just say?

Lucy’s appetite fled. Her mouth went dry as she took in the news, absorbed by her seventh grade yearbook photo that flashed on the screen. She’d forgotten how chubby she was last year. That was before she got into the cross country team and started training. She gazed at her rounded cheeks and felt sick. The shot quickly reverted back to her house surrounded by yellow police tape and her heart couldn’t take it.

Pushing her plate away from her, she glanced across at grey eyes, but he was gone. For some reason, she found it disconcerting. Stumbling out of her booth, her frantic need to escape made her hit the half empty Coke glass. It flew to the floor before she could stop it, hitting the tiles and smashing into a hundred pieces. Brown liquid splattered her jeans and shoes.

“Sorry,” she whispered as the waitress approached her with a mop in hand. She leapt passed the frowning lady, making a quick escape for the door before anyone saw her and put two and two together.

Pushing the glass door open, she staggered outside and around the edge of the building. She needed darkness right now. Anything that could hide her.

Scurrying feet seemed to follow her movements and at first she thought it was the guy from the diner, but it was so much worse. The man following her was big, his checkered shirt only just buttoning over his round belly. His broad shoulders and towering persona made her want to shrink.

“Hey, hey you.” His voice was gruff and demanding. “Did I just see you on TV?”

Lucy shook her head, mumbling a no over her shoulder while picking up her pace.

“Don’t you walk away from me, kid.”

Lucy lurched into a run, fear making her feet fly across the asphalt. Unfortunately the move only enraged the man behind her and he let out a grunt and started chasing her.

She knew she was fast enough to out run him, but that’s when she was healthy and hadn’t been living on two hours sleep a night and garbage scraps for breakfast. The food in her stomach threatened to re-enter the world as her lagging legs lost steam. She tripped as she neared the edge of a grass verge, losing her footing on the loose gravel chips.

The man grabbed at her jacket, yanking her to a stop. She fell to her knees, her heart thrumming, her ears ringing. Her mind felt numb and cold. With trembling lips she looked up at the man, willing herself to say the right words, to somehow convince him that she was innocent.

“You’re coming with me.” He hauled her to her feet.

Then came a thud and the grip on her jacket went slack. She shuffled away from her captor as he fell to the ground with a groan. Behind him stood the grey-eyed boy with a broken beer bottle in his hand.

Etiquette had taught Lucy that she should say thank you, but with fear induced adrenaline running through her veins, she did nothing of the sort. Instead she turned and ran.

“Hey wait!”

She listened to the remains of the glass bottle shatter on the concrete and heard quick feet behind her.