Twice Dead - Catherine Coulter [28]
“Yes, I know,” she said, and took a step back.
“Once I got used to it, though, I found I couldn’t eat the other peanut butter, too much sugar.”
“That’s true.” She took another step away from him. Who was he? Why was he trying to be so nice?
“Miss Powell, I’m Young Jeff. Ah, Old Jeff is my pop, he’s the assistant manager. Hold still and I’ll clean off your sneaker.” He picked up her foot, nearly sending her over backward. The man held her up while Young Jeff wiped a wet paper towel over the bottom of her sneaker. He was very strong, she could feel it since his hands were in her armpits. “I’m sure glad you’re here, ma’am. I wanted to know if that poor dead skeleton was Mrs. McBride. Everyone is talking about how it can’t be anybody else, what with Mrs. McBride up and disappearing like she did not all that long ago. Everyone says you know it’s Mrs. McBride, too, that you were sure, but how could you be? Did you meet Mrs. McBride?”
He finally released her foot. She pulled away from Young Jeff and the man, a good two feet. She felt cold, very cold. She rubbed her hands over her crossed arms. “No, Jeff, I never met Ann McBride. I didn’t know anything about her. No one said a single word to me about her. Also, everybody is being premature. Now, I’ll bet we’ll be hearing very soon that the poor woman I found can’t be Ann McBride. You tell everyone I said that.”
“I will, Miss Powell, but that’s not what Mrs. Ella says. She thinks it’s Ann McBride, too.”
“Believe me, Jeff, I was there, and I saw the skeleton; Mrs. Ella didn’t. Hey, I’m sorry about the mess. Thanks for cleaning off my shoe.”
The man stuck out his arm and helped her over the shards of glass. “Young Jeff is a teenage boy with raging hormones,” he said, very aware that she had pulled away from him again. “I’m afraid you’re now the object of his affection.”
She shuddered. “No, I’m the object of everyone’s curiosity, nothing more, including poor Young Jeff.” She stopped. The man couldn’t help it that she was spooked. She drew a deep breath, gave him a nice big smile, and said, “I’ve got a few more things to buy, Mr.—?”
“Carruthers. Adam Carruthers.” He stuck out his hand and she automatically shook it. Big hand, hard, just like the rest of him. She’d bet the last dime in the bottom of her purse that even the soles of his feet were hard. She knew without being told that he was very disciplined, very focused, like soldiers or bad guys were focused, and that made her so afraid she nearly ran out right that minute. Which was silly. Only one thing she really knew for sure—she didn’t ever want to have to tangle with him. Actually, if she never saw him again, it would be fine by her. “I haven’t seen you around town before, Mr. Carruthers.”
“No, I got here yesterday. The first thing I heard about was your finding that skeleton. The second thing I heard was it was the missing wife of your neighbor, Tyler McBride, and that you were seeing him and now wasn’t that interesting?”
A reporter, she thought. Oh God, maybe he was a reporter or a paparazzo, and they’d found her. Her brave new world in the boondocks was going to be over just as it was beginning. It wasn’t fair. She began backing away from him.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes, of course. I’m very busy. It was a pleasure to meet you. Good-bye.” And she was nearly running down the aisle lined with different kinds of breads, hamburger buns, and English muffins.
He stared after her. She was taller than he’d expected, and too thin. Well, he’d be skinny, too, if he’d been under as much pressure as she was. What mattered was that he had found her. Amateurs, he thought, even very smart ones, couldn’t easily disappear. He thought about how he had managed to misdirect the FBI, and grinned at the jars of low-fat