"You little mother-fuckin'-bitch," he spat, giving himself another once-over. His necklace, a slim gold chain, was still hanging around his neck, and his keys were still clipped to his belt loop.
Fuming, he darted across the room, grabbed his duffel bag, and dumped out the contents. Finding everything accounted for, most importantly the roll of cash he'd stuffed inside a dirty sock, he sank down onto the bed beside his belongings and glared at the wall.
It could have been a lot worse. He still had plenty of money and an extra jacket in his bag. Still, she'd pulled the wool over his eyes. Him, outsmarted by a street rat.
He continued glaring at the wall, his jaw clenched and twitching.
"Females," he muttered, "give ‘em an inch, and they take your fuckin' wallet."
Chapter 9
Debbie pulled a pinkish-peach tank top off its hanger and added it to the growing pile in her arms. Moving along, she looked over the shelves in dismay. The store's selection was a far cry from anything she actually needed, and none of it would hold up for very long. But since beggars couldn't afford to be choosers, she grabbed several more items and moved on.
Sweat beaded on her forehead. Grimacing, she swiped her face with the back of her hand, wishing for a cool drink. The hours-long walk in the sun had been arduous. She was overheated and thirsty, and wearing Preacher's heavy leather jacket inside this poorly ventilated building was only making her feel worse. Yet she couldn't take it off; not when the pockets and sleeves were brimming with stolen goods.
This was her second time today venturing off the highway. The first attempt had been fruitless; she'd only come across a gas station that had had little to offer. When she'd chanced another exit, she'd found a town, and this Five and Dime.
"Did you just climb out of a mud pit?" Blonde and slim, a teenage girl was eyeing her with obvious distaste. Her two companions, a curvy brunette and a boy wearing a letterman's jacket, stood nearby, their faces screwed into ugly sneers.
"Poor, dirty little piggy," the brunette laughed.
Snickering, the boy pushed up his nose and began to snort.
Cheeks burning, Debbie spun away.
"Run away, little piggy!" one of the girls called after her. "Run away!"
While the group howled with laughter, Debbie ducked down the next aisle.
She hated towns for many reasons, but people were the first and foremost. When cities were few and far between, she stuck to the highways and the truck stops and the mom-and-pop shops scattered along the way. Places where people were always coming and going, where she went largely unnoticed.
Having to deal with the occasional judgmental truck stop waitress paled in comparison to the sort of scrutiny she received in towns like this. Typically, the smaller the town was, the worse she was treated.
Plucking a pair of sunglass off a display, she slid them discreetly inside her jacket, latching them onto the torn collar of her T-shirt.
Passing a rack of pretty summer dresses, she reached out to finger the gauzy material. She used to look like those girls. She used to wear things like this. Better than this, even. Her clothing had always been current, her hair always cut in the latest style, her nails manicured. On the outside, Debbie had looked perfect, pristine. Her mother had insisted upon it because, in her mother's mind, appearance was everything.
Debbie released the dress with an angry sneer. Fuck those girls. And fuck her mother, too.
Her arms full, Debbie started toward the front of the store, had nearly reached the counter when the front door opened with a groan. Debbie halted, her eyes going wide. Tall and broad shouldered, a police officer in full uniform stepped inside. Removing his hat, he flashed a friendly smile at the elderly man managing the cash register.
"Afternoon, Wendell!"
A wave. "Mike! Hello! It's a hot one today!"
Debbie backtracked, disappearing down an aisle and behind a bin filled with flip-flops. Her heart pounding, her breath shallow, she quickly ticked through her options. Half of her wanted to simply drop everything and leave, while the other half balked at that idea, knowing it could be quite a while before she found another store.
As it was, she'd been shopping for long enough that up and leaving would look suspicious. She already stuck out like a sore thumb. Filthy, her clothing torn, she was wearing a bulky leather jacket several sizes too big for her, in the summer heat, no less. Once that police officer got an eyeful of her …
She swallowed thickly. Sweat trickled down her forehead. She could suddenly feel every stolen item she'd hidden inside the jacket biting uncomfortably into her skin.