Page 28 of The Woman Who Couldn't Scream
Her iPad drooped.
His lip curled. Deliberately he turned his shoulder and headed to a far table. With his back still turned, he sat down and started texting.
He had snubbed her.
Or… or perhaps he hadn’t recognized her.
She put her hand to the buzzed side of her head. She brought the long strand in front of her eyes. She looked down at her outfit: a bright orange sleeveless T-shirt that showed off the colorful falcon tattoo on her left bicep, ragged jeans and her worn college-era Birkenstocks.
He really hadn’t recognized her. That shallow snob, that pompous academic, had looked at her, seen a badly dressed woman with hair dyed the colors of the United States flag and immediately decided she was not the kind of person with whom he wanted to associate.
She wilted with relief. Her disguise, such as it was, had passed the test.
But she couldn’t stay here and take the chance he would remember her. Standing, she gathered her tablet and purse, put a twenty on the table and hurried toward the door. She extended her hand to push it open—
And met Elsa Cipre coming in.
Merida tried to turn her head away, but ofcourse,Elsa recognized her immediately. She never seemed as self-absorbed as her husband. She caught Merida’s outstretched wrist. “Helen!”
Merida shook her head.
“How good to see you. I never expected to find you in this little corner of the world. How did you get here?” She looked around the café, spotted her husband and said, “Dawkins is right over there. Come and sit with us.”
Merida shook her head more emphatically.
“Dawkins will be so pleased to see you again.”
Merida set her heels.
Without any seeming effort, Elsa dragged her toward Dawkins.
For a skinny, nervous academic, the woman had impressive upper body strength. “Dawkins, look who I found in this godforsaken town.”
Dawkins gave Merida his patented superior sneer, then visibly started. “Helen Brassard! I didn’t realize…” He rose to his feet. “Helen, my dear, we had no idea we would find you here.”
If I had known I would find you, I wouldn’t be here.But Merida couldn’t say it, didn’t sign it, smiled tightly. Pulling out her iPad, she typed, “Not Helen. I’m Merida now. I don’t tell anyone about my husband.”
“Why not?” Dawkins boomed.
Elsa lowered her voice. “Because of the money. Of course. We understand.”
Merida nodded.
“Do you still have your bodyguard? What was his name? Carl Klinger?” Dawkins didn’t know how to lower his voice.
“Carl Klineman, dear,” Elsa said.
Merida shook her head, put her finger to her lips.
Dawkins leaned forward and in a piercing whisper said, “You should get him back so you could use your real name. It’s not safe for you to be alone.”
Merida typed, “Most of the money went to Nauplius Brassard’s children. I don’t need a bodyguard for my small savings. What brings you to Virtue Falls?”
“I’m on sabbatical from Oxford and Washington State University begged me to come and lecture on French medieval poetry and its influence on the customs of romance and chivalry.”
Merida could see a free lecture coming at an unstoppable speed, and she clutched her backpack closer in preparation for a panicked escape.
Elsa didn’t wait for him to get rolling. Instead she stroked his ego. “They are so lucky to have you.”
