All together, he decided, she wasnt bad-looking or what he might call homely, justplain. As in, ordinary. Her hair was kind of a neutral brown, neither curly nor straight, without much body or shine to it and no particular style either, just sort of twisted up on the back of her head. Which struck him as kind of odd for somebody who made her living fixing up other peoples hair. Her eyes were unremarkable, too, a flat greenish-gray in color, like old moss-though it was hard to tell much more about them, hidden as they were behind a pair of dark-rimmed glasses even he knew were both too big for her face and years out of style.
Like Buster had said, the woman fidgeting her way from table to sink to fridge as she cleared away the remains of her evening meal definitely wasnt the head-turner type. Not the kind of woman to stand out in a crowd in spite of how tall she was. Not the type to stir a mans juices to lust, either, not at first glance anyway. Though that may have been due in part to the fact that whatever figure she did have was all covered up by the loose-fitting pink nylon smock she wore.
All together, he decided, she wasnt bad-looking or what he might call homely, justplain. As in, ordinary. Her hair was kind of a neutral brown, neither curly nor straight, without much body or shine to it and no particular style either, just sort of twisted up on the back of her head. Which struck him as kind of odd for somebody who made her living fixing up other peoples hair. Her eyes were unremarkable, too, a flat greenish-gray in color, like old moss-though it was hard to tell much more about them, hidden as they were behind a pair of dark-rimmed glasses even he knew were both too big for her face and years out of style.
Can I get you something to drink? she asked as she brushed some imaginary crumbs off the tabletop. Some coffee?
Oh, no maam, thanks, I just had a cup over at the Last Stand. He laid his hat on the tabletop shed just cleared off and pretended not to notice the way shed twitched when he mentioned the saloon. Ill try not to take up too much of your time. I just need to ask you a few questions
Oh-of course. She leaned her hip against the countertop and folded her arms in a way he didnt have to be a student of body language to know was defensive.
He regarded her for a moment, watching her throat move as she swallowed, not intending to make her more nervous than she already was, but simply pondering the best way to proceed with this woman. He felt a little bit like a hunter stalking a doe, part of him not wanting to spook her, but a part of him secretly hoping shed wake up to the danger she was in and get herself out of his gunsights while there was still time.
He quelled that notion and drawled with deceptive friendliness, You can start by telling me your last name. All the folks over at the Last Stand know you by is Mary.
A smile flicked over her lips and died. She cleared her throat, and one hand rose as if to touch her mouth before halting abruptly and diving back into the bend of her folded arms. Its, um, Owen. MaryOwen.
But hed already noted the puffy swelling on her lower lip shed remembered too late not to call his attention to. And the purple bruises on her jaw-hed noticed them, too.
Mary Owen He repeated it as he took a notebook and pencil from his shirt pocket and jotted it down. Then he looked up and casually asked, Do you know Jason Holbrook, Mary?
No twitch this time. She was expecting that.
She met his eyes calmly, poise restored, the nervousness apparently conquered. And during the long pause while she gazed at him without replying, something odd happened to him, something he couldnt recall ever having happened before, at least not under those circumstances, questioning a suspect in the investigation of a crime. For no reason he could think of his pulse quickened and a strange little weight came to sit in the middle of his chest, one that made him feel as if he needed to catch a breath. A breath that was mysteriously hard to come by.
Ive met him, yes. Then she added with a note of quiet reproach, But sheriff, you know that, or you wouldnt be here. I also know he was found shot dead this morning. She paused again, and her mouth twitched briefly with a small, bitter smile. This is a very small town.
He acknowledged that with a nod and a wintery smile of his own. He glanced down, shifted the position of his hat on the table, then returned his gaze to her. Soyou mind telling me when the last time was you saw him?
Her lips tightened again, impatiently, this time. Im sure you know that, too. I saw him last night, at the Last Stand. Hespoke to me while I was waiting to pick up my to-go order.
The way I heard it, he did a lot more than speak to you, Roan drawled, and now for some reason he was noticing her skin, wondering why he hadnt noticed before how clear and pale it was, almost translucent, not like most of the women he knew, whose skin, once they passed infancy, got to showing the effects of sun and wind and cold dry weather pretty quickly.
Noticing, too, the way hers changed color with her emotions, the same way his Susie Graces did. And when she shook her head and looked away, he didnt miss the faint pink blush that washed across her cheeks.
He came on to me. It wasnt the first time. It wasnt a big deal. But she swallowed. He didnt miss that, either.
What about when he followed you out to the parking lot?
Her eyes snapped back to him, the pink in her cheeks deepening to crimson as he watched, and he felt a stab of inappropriate delight that a woman her age could still blush.
You mean you dont know that, too? Her voice was low, barely above a whisper, but he could almost see her body vibrating with emotions fiercely contained, and behind the unattractive glasses she wore, her eyes had come alive. They seemed to shimmer now with green-gold fire. Didnt your witnesses tell you?
He leaned toward her, making his voice as soft as hers, just sort of friendly. No, but I think I can guess what happened. Ive known Jason Holbrook for a long time, so I know what a-pardon me, maam-what a sonofabitch he can be. And Jason had a laceration on his lip the coroner says is a bite mark. Buster, over at the Last Stand, says when Jase came back after seeing you outside, his mouth was bleeding and he was cussin mad. It doesnt take a genius to figure things out, does it, Miss Mary? He ducked his head, cajoling her with kind eyes and a wry smile. So tell me-the truth, now-are you the one that bit him?
She looked away, made a sound, cleared her throat and finally spat it out-and that was what she reminded him of-a cat spitting. Hegrabbed me as I was getting into my car. Her folded arms tightened, and revulsion thickened her voice. Hekissed me. He wouldnt stop when I tried to push him away. So, yesI bit him. Again her eyes lashed back at him, as if to say she wasnt one bit sorry about doing it, either. And this time he knew the green-gold fire in those eyes was defiance.
Ignoring another of those strange disturbances in his midsection, Roan leveled a gaze at her and waited. It had been his experience at times like this that silence was more apt to provoke further revelations than questions. It didnt work in Miss Mary Owens case, though. She stared back at him and didnt give an inch.
He leaned toward her once more, stooping down a little the way he normally did when he spoke to women-a habit hed developed when hed first shot up to where he was a good bit taller than most of the girls he knew. When he remembered this woman was darn near as tall as he was, he straightened up again. And was that absolutely the last time you saw him?
She didnt answer, but the fire died out of her eyes as he watched, leaving them that dull and lifeless gray.
He persisted, his voice gentle againpersuading. Mary? Did you see Jason after that? Did he come back a little later onfollow you home, maybe?
She looked away, still not answering, though he could see her throat working. He stepped closer to her and reached toward but didnt quite touch the bruise on her jaw. He felt a stab of almost physical pain when she flinched. It was either the pain or the surprise of it that made his voice harden. Did Jason do this to you?
She edged away from him and turnedpicked up a perfectly clean dish from the countertop and put it in the sink. No-nobody did it. I-it was just a stupid accident. I tripped on the steps-the porch light was burned out, and Ifell.
That told him one thing: the lady was a terrible liar.
A mans dead, Mary. And lying to me isnt going to do anything but get you in a whole lot of trouble. He paused, waited again. And as he waited he thought about moving in on her, crowding her space, closing her in against that sink where she stood with her back to him, using the kind of subtle intimidation tactics hed have used with any other suspect. But then he got a clear picture in his mind of that swollen lip and the bruise on her face, and of Jason doing the exact same thing but with a whole different purpose in mind, and he went cold and sick with shame at the thought.
He folded his arms across his chest and hitched in a breath. Something else the coroner found, Mary. Jason had some blood on his shirt sleeve that wasnt his. Appears it was a womans blood. And Im guessing if I take a sample of your DNA-and I will have to ask you to let me do that-Im about as certain as I can be its going to match that blood.
Still she didnt say anythingdidnt move a muscle. He could hear the tension humming inside her, like an overload of electricity. He could see the wisps of brown hair that lay on the back of her neck, escapees from the nondescript arrangement that was neither bun nor ponytail but something halfway between and that had already seen her through a hard days work.
He thought how vulnerable that part of her seemed. And that at the same time, oddly graceful, too.
Mary? Barely whispering Did Jason Holbrook rape you?
Again her body jerked as if hed struck her. She turned slowly, and he saw her face, not vulnerable, now, but white and still, like something carved in marble. Her voice was hard, too, and brittle with contempt. No. He was too drunk. He tried. When he couldnt, hehit me instead.