When the Dead Speak

Chapter 73

Chapter 73

"You hardly touched your meal," Alex said.

Abby pulled her shawl up around her shoulders and leaned back against the bench outside of Flanigan's. The restaurant was across the street from the Three Oaks Shopping Center, a huge, renovated, enclosed center with aqua-colored spires at its entranceways.

Abby looked up toward the sky. The bright lights from the center and Flanigan's parking lot hindered any view of the stars on this clear night.

"I just have this uneasy feeling."

A young couple walked past, the mother holding the hand of a young girl. Abby smiled at the girl whose wide eyes stared back. The mother and daughter took a seat on the bench next to them while the father walked off to the parking lot.

The little girl, dressed in a pale yellow shorts outfit which matched her corn-silk hair, walked over to them.

Holding out her doll to Abby, the girl said, "See my dollie?"

"Your dollie is beautiful."

"Josie." The young mother gathered up her daughter. "Let's not bother the nice people." She led Josie back to the bench.

"You should not let your grandmotherly hormones take over your emotions, Abby. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to go out tonight. We should have stayed home." Alex rose from the bench, positioning his hat on his head.

"I only wanted to give Sam and Jake some time alone."

A large bird was circling the parking lot. Seagulls scurried from their feasts of food scraps. Patrons emerging from the restaurant looked up as the bird with its forty-inch wing span descended on a nearby light pole.

The hawk turned its head, its beady eyes trained on Abby. It let out a rambling diatribe, a screeching that drowned out the noise from the traffic and the hungry seagulls.

Alex studied the bird and asked Abby, "What does the hawk say?"

Abby sighed heavily and hung her head. The hawk's report on Abby's home front was not good.

"Come." Alex helped Abby up from the bench. "Why don't we go take in a good blood and guts war movie?" He wrapped a consoling arm around her shoulder. "Definitely no romance movie."

As they walked toward the truck, Abby patted his hand and asked mournfully, "Dear Alex, is there really a difference?"