Ch 19

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I was watching the seconds tick by. I was off at 6:30, and it was 6:28 and twelve seconds. The kids had gone home a while ago, after a million more questions about Charlie and the investigation – which I evaded as much as possible – followed by significantly less questions about shoes. After that I wandered aimlessly around, retying laces and straightening shoes here and there, until Maria left at 5, and then I took her spot at the register. Naomi was in the back somewhere doing paperwork, but at 6:30 exactly, she would come up and take over my job until the store closed at 8.

So, of course, with less than two minutes to go, a customer came up to the register. I did not want to stay late to help this guy... this guy who looked oddly familiar...

After only a moment, I realized where I had seen him before: he was that creepy dude who was sitting behind me at the Bromm the night Lilly Stuart was murdered.

"I'd like another pair of these exact shoes," he said, a pair of very used and very dirty shoes thudding onto the counter as he spoke. He still creeped me out. I didn't know what it was about him, but something just rubbed me the wrong way.

I glanced down at the shoes he had set on the counter. They had a strange design on the bottom that I guessed made for some odd footprints. Why anyone would want that was beyond me, but to each their own. I recognized the style as one we currently carried and sighed in relief before I could stop myself. I really didn't want to say no to him, even if it was in the faux sweet and polite tone that was worded carefully enough to keep everyone relatively happy.

Something about the way he was looking at me just made me want to hide in the back and make Naomi take care of him, which was not a feeling I got often. But there was only two minutes left on my shift, and I was about to walk away and retrieve the shoes anyway, so I decided against the cowardly option. Besides, I don't do cowardly.

I checked the label on the inside and wrote down the size and stock number and then told him I'd be right back, grateful to leave his presence. Usually I would have checked the computer first to make sure we had some on hand and also get the aisle number, but I knew where I was going and I was anxious to get away. He watched me the whole time I was walking away, though, making me wish I was back behind the counter, barely in his view. I was tense and self-conscious until I knew he couldn't see me anymore.

Once I was in the right section, I glanced at the paper and started muttering to myself. "102508, 102508. Ah, here we go. Size..." I glanced at the paper again. "twelve." I started looking at sizes. "Ten, eleven, eleven..." I wasn't seeing a twelve. Where were the twelves?

My phone started buzzing in my pocket, and I pulled it out distractedly, missing the answer button twice before actually looking at the screen long enough to push correctly. "Hello?" I asked as I turned over tags to check the sizes. Was I really going to have to tell that creep that we didn't have any on hand?

"Hey, Callie. Is this a good time?" I recognized the voice immediately, even with the distortion that usually accompanies a phone call.

"Not really, Charlie." I had gone through the whole section without seeing a single size twelve, but I started over again. Maybe I just missed it. "What do you want?"

He was unfazed by my bitter and distracted tone, replying cheerfully. "Oh, I was just going to see what your schedule looked like for the next couple days and compare it to my own."

"Texting works better for me," I said.

"Okay. I'll do that. But since I already have you..."

I had reached the end of the section again, and there still weren't any twelves. Maybe someone put it away in the wrong spot. I started quickly looking up and down the aisles.

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