“Well, I’m getting this information thirdhand, so don’t quote me on this, but I think the grocery store and the gas stations stay open. Like Hugh mentioned, the hardware store’s year-round. The diner does, although it’ll be at the VFW for most of the winter. Um…this thrift store.” Jules sent her a sly grin. “Bet that makes you happy, huh? Let’s see… What else is open all year? The post office, the drugstore, the library, the police department—although about half the cops are semi-retired and follow the hordes to Florida for the winter—the liquor store, the taxidermy shop… Actually, the liquor store and the taxidermy shop are one place.”
From what she’d seen of Monroe so far, this didn’t shock Grace at all. “One-stop shopping,” she said dryly, making Jules laugh.
“Indeed.” Jules gave her a push toward a curtained cubicle. “And I’m sure there are more, but that’s all I can think of right now, and you’re stalling. Get in there and start trying on clothes.”
Although Grace didn’t want to try on flannel jeans—or really any of the practical secondhand clothes piled in her arms—a huff of laughter escaped her as she moved into the dressing room. After sorting through the clothes, she had to admit that they weren’t bad. She was just being stubborn because a part of her didn’t want to get new things. There were perfectly good clothes sitting in her condo that she couldn’t access because Martin Jovanovic had chased her out of her home, forcing her to share a bathroom with five other people and buy clothes at a thrift store that smelled ever so slightly of mothballs and mildew.
Stiffening her shoulders, she commanded herself to stop being a whiny baby. For now, she needed to suck it up. She was alive, and that was what mattered. Grabbing the flannel-lined jeans, she gave them a hard look.
“This isn’t going to be fun for either of us,” she told the pants, “but this is what needs to happen, so we’re going to have to make the best of it.”
She started to unbutton her hastily purchased Walmart jeans, but a sound made her freeze. The noise had been faint, just a slight hiss of breath, but it had come from the other side of the dressing room curtain—as if someone was pressed close, listening.
Without moving, she strained to hear more. There was only silence, but she swore she could feel someone’s presence. In her gut, she knew someone was right outside her dressing room.
It’s just Jules, she told herself, but she didn’t believe it. Jules wouldn’t linger like that, hovering so close and quiet. In fact, Grace was fairly certain that Jules was physically incapable of not talking for more than a few seconds. If Jules had been on the other side of the curtain, she would’ve been peppering Grace with questions about how the clothes fit and if she should grab a few more coats.
Grace’s thoughts began to jump around like popcorn. Had Martin found her already? Was it one of his lackeys, ready to take her out the second she emerged? She wasn’t sure if she could actually hear someone breathing, or if her imagination was determined to freak her out.
Buttoning the top button of her jeans again, Grace reached for the edge of the curtain. She had to look. It was far worse not knowing who—if anyone—was silently standing there, watching her. It annoyed her how pale and uncertain her hand looked as she extended it. Her fingers closed around the rough fabric, but then she paused.
Just open it, she ordered herself. Rip it open and get it over with. Taking a deep breath, she yanked the curtain to the side.
No one was there.
Her gaze scanned the open space, finding Jules on the other side looking at books with Dee. The three boys were in a huddle around a table covered with hand tools. The woman at the counter looked as if she might be taking a quick nap in her chair. Grace took several steps out of the dressing room so she could see the entrance to the store.
The door was closing. Grace hurried to the front, jerking open the door and rushing outside, only to crash into someone. With a startled yelp, she tried to stumble backward, but the person grabbed her upper arms. He’s here! He found me! Immediate panic hazed her mind, and she began struggling against her captor’s hold.
“Grace, it’s okay. You’re safe. It’s just me.”
It wasn’t Martin’s voice. Her vision cleared and her heart rate slowed as her terror eased. Tipping her head up, she looked into Hugh’s concerned face. Relief warred with embarrassment, and she stepped backward. This time, he let her go, although his hands stayed up, as if to grab her again if she looked like she was going to fall.
“You okay?”