Runaway Mistress by Robyn Carr Page B

over-thinking it; she had no way of knowing what had transpired behind the scenes, if anything. Sweep. Just sweep. Look down at the sidewalk as though those two lunkheads don’t interest you.
    Momentarily they came out of the shop and stood talking on the sidewalk. They stopped a man as he passed by and showed him the paper. Ah, she thought. They’re showing a picture around town. The man shook his head and kept walking. As he got closer, Jennifer glanced up from beneath lowered eyes and recognized him as someone who came into the diner regularly. And he didn’t recognize her from the picture!
    This is the moment of truth, she thought. Let them come. Look right at them. Don’t blink. And don’t smile! Look at the picture. If they don’t recognize me now and if no one else in town says they’ve seen the blond woman in the picture, maybe they’ll go away and not come back.
    Unless Nick was in the car. If Nick saw her, she’d be found out. He wouldn’t be fooled so easily.
    She swept. It seemed to take years for them to make their way to the Tin Can. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears. She forced herself to remember her long blond hair was gone, her eyes were a different color, her lips were thinner, her eyebrows thicker. Her face had been transformed. Plus, these idiots were probably looking for a blonde in a short skirt and four-inch heels. Sweep and don’t think too much.
    “’Scuse me,” the man said. She looked up. Lou stood back about ten feet, cleaning under his fingernails with a penknife, waiting. She was really short in her flat shoes. Every time she’d been shopping, with Lou carrying her packages, or at the airport, with Lou carrying bags, she’d been considerably taller.
    “Yeah?” she said, chewing a nonexistent piece of gum.
    “Any chance you’ve seen this woman around here?”
    “No. Why? You lose her?”
    “Somethin’ like that. You’re sure?”
    “Buddy, someone like that would stand out. Don’t cha think?”
    “Yeah. Don’t know what she’d be doing around here, anyway.” He looked around and, if Jennifer wasn’t mistaken, sniffed the air derisively. “This place doesn’t have enough action for our girl.”
    “That a flyer?” she asked.
    “Yeah.”
    “Gimme a bunch. I’ll put ’em up for ya.”
    “Hey, thanks. Hey, Lou, you want a cup of coffee or something?”
    He looked right at Jennifer. Not the slightest question or recognition registered on his face.
    “Naw, I’d rather get back. You done here?”
    “Yeah. Enough is enough.”
    They went back to the car and drove slowly down the street. When they were gone, when the sedan had turned the corner and was out of sight, Jennifer started to tremble. She leaned the broom against the diner window and made fast tracks to the bathroom, holding the flyers against her stomach as she went, slamming and locking the door. She tried to slow her breathing, but she was panting.
    She had been missing for six weeks. Nick had either returned to Las Vegas sooner than his usual three months, or sent his boys. In either case, she was obviously still a hot item. That Nick hadn’t just left this to the police indicated his determination to find her. He must be certain she could do him harm.
    She looked in the mirror. She held the picture on the flyers up next to her face. She smiled at herself. Ew, Louise was right—she could hide with this face, so different from before, as long as she didn’t smile. But the way her lips parted in a smile was identical to the picture, except that now her lips weren’t quite as full. It didn’t show in the picture, but her bottom teeth were just a little crooked. But the shape of her smile…
    You might know.
    Her cheeks were flushed. She splashed them with cold water. There was a tap-tap-tap at the door and Hedda asked, “You okay in there, Doris?”
    “Uh, yeah,” she said. “Give me a minute, okay?”
    “Take your time. Buzz just wanted me to check on you.”
    She felt weak. She needed