CHAPTER 6
Libby awoke to find her head resting on Tony’s shoulder, her hand lying intimately on his thigh. She jerked up and away from him as if scorched by the heat of a fire.
“Ah, Sleeping Beauty awakens.” Tony smiled at her.
“I’m sorry,” she said, running fingers through her hair self-consciously, trying not to think of how familiarly she’d been sleeping against him. “I guess I haven’t been very good company.”
“That’s all right. You were obviously exhausted.”
She focused her attention out the window. “Where are we?” she asked curiously.
“Just coming into Sedalia,” Tony said, cracking his window a bit to allow some of the warm spring air to make its way into the car.
“Sedalia, Missouri. Isn’t this where the state fair is held every year?” Libby asked curiously, looking out the car window with interest.
“Yes, the fairgrounds are just ahead. You ever been to the fair?”
“Once.” Libby smiled softly at the memory. “It was a long time ago, but I can still remember the sounds, the smells. The laughter and the music from the calliope, the smell of grilling hot dogs and roasted peanuts. Ah, I love fairs.” She laughed suddenly.
“What?” He smiled at her.
“I just remembered. Vinnie bought me a chameleon. Somehow they had managed to tie little chains around them with a safety pin so the poor little lizards could be worn on a blouse.” Libby shook her head softly, memories flooding her. “I wore that chameleon every day for a week, each day with a different-colored blouse. I was utterly fascinated the way the chameleon changed colors.” She looked at the deserted fairgrounds as they drove by. “It was a wonderful time,” she added with another soft laugh. “Vinnie took me on every ride. He even managed to win me a funny-looking stuffed crocodile.” She shook her head, remembering how much money her father had gone through in his efforts to win her the mangy-looking stuffed animal.
“It must have been difficult, raising a daughter single-handedly,” he observed.
“Vinnie was a wonderful father. If I was a burden to him, he never showed it, and I never felt it. He’s a very special man.”
“But it must have been difficult for you at times, not having a mother.”
Libby thought about it for a moment before she answered. “No, actually it wasn’t. I was so young when she died. I don’t remember her at all. I guess it’s hard to miss something you never had.”
“Sometimes mothers don’t die…they just fade into the shadows.”
Libby looked at him curiously, biting back the desire to ask him to elaborate on his strange statement. There was something about his tone of voice, the set of his shoulders that forbade her to question him. Apparently his light, flirtatious ways and his easy charm hid scars—deep ones that marked his soul. She repressed her need to reach out to him, to touch his arm, knowing he would hate her for a show of sympathy.
“You hungry?” he asked suddenly.
Libby shook her head. “No, but I could stretch my legs.”
“My breakfast this morning was far too early to really count.” He looked at his wristwatch and grinned. “And if we hurry, breakfast will be served for another ten minutes—I see the golden arches ahead. My stomach says it’s time for a couple of egg biscuits and some hash browns.” He pulled into the parking lot of the fast-food chain. “What about you?” he asked as they climbed out of the car.
“Just a cup of coffee,” she said.
“I thought you said something about being a junk-food junkie.”
She laughed. “I am, but I never indulge in my vices until after twelve noon.”
One of his dark eyebrows shot up. “Vices? Hmm, as soon as I fill my stomach, I’d like to discuss the other vices you have besides eating junk food.”
With a laugh, Libby gave him a small shove toward the order counter as she headed for the ladies’ room.
Once in the rest room, she looked at her reflection in the mirror above the sink, dismayed at the tousled condition of her hair, the slight mascara smudges beneath her eyes. She washed her face with a wet paper towel, then finger-combed her hair as best she could. Better, she thought as she looked once again at her reflection. She didn’t look half bad for a woman who was in the middle of a mystery that might possibly involve a breach of national security. “Oh, Vinnie, wait until you hear about this,” she said softly, laughing as she tried to imagine her father’s reaction.
By the time she left the rest room, Tony was nowhere to be seen. He must have gotten their order and gone back to the car. She left the brick building, raising her face to the warmth of the sun as she walked toward where Tony had parked. She frowned, startled as a car roared around the side of the building and squealed to a halt in front of her.
The passenger door burst open and before Libby had a chance to respond in any way, a pale, white-haired man jumped out and grabbed her arm. He roughly dragged her toward the open car.
The feel of his deathly cold hands on her arm broke the stunned inertia that had momentarily gripped her. She flailed out at the man, kicking and curving her fingers so her nails could be used as weapons. She didn’t know what he wanted, or why he’d grabbed her, but she did know that if he got her into that car, she would be in the worst possible danger. She grunted in grim satisfaction as she raked her nails down the side of his face.
