Faces in the Fire by Hines Read Free Book Online Page B

dabbed at it with her napkin, looking embarrassed.
    â€œYou don’t know? So why’d you get them?”
    â€œI didn’t ask for them. I didn’t even know they were there until you saw them.”
    â€œBut they mean something to you, don’t they?”
    She paused for a long time. “Yeah, they mean something.”
    â€œThey . . . they mean something to me, too,” he said. “I just can’t put my finger on it now.” He continued staring at the tattoo, as if searching it for more hidden answers.
    He found none.
    The waitress brought the check, and he paid the tab. As he put away his wallet, Corrine dug in her bag for a few minutes, then quickly pushed her way out of the booth.
    â€œBe right back. I’m going to the restroom.”
    He watched her walk away. He had no illusions about her really coming back. Not after what he’d just told her. He’d be lucky if she didn’t sneak away somewhere and dial 911.
    Actually, that might be good.
    He stood, noticed something on her side of the booth; she must have dropped it when she got up to leave. He bent over and picked it up: inside a plastic sandwich bag, a napkin with the numbers 1595544534 scrawled on it. The same numbers hidden inside her tattoo. He caressed it between his thumb and forefinger, lost in thought. What was so special about this napkin, these numbers, the catfish connection?
    (brain damage)
    â€œSo where you headed?”
    He spun around, slipping the plastic bag and the napkin into his front pocket as he did. “Huh?” he asked, flustered by her sudden return. “Oh, Chicago.”
    Was she actually hoping to catch a ride with him? Bad idea. Bad, bad idea.
    He smiled, instantly feeling a cathartic clarity in his thoughts for the first time that morning. He started to walk toward the doors, and she followed.
    â€œHow about you? Where you going?”
    â€œNo clue,” she said. “Just trying to outrun my past.”
    â€œIt’s a vicious circle,” he agreed.
    She stopped walking suddenly, and he turned to see what had stopped her. For a moment, he thought she’d been shocked, or maybe she’d bitten her lip.
    â€œWhat did you say?” she whispered.
    â€œA vicious circle,” he repeated.
    She stared off into the horizon, a smile creasing her face. “Yes, it is,” she said, almost dreamily.
    Her next question was even more of a surprise.
    â€œDo they . . . ah, have a computer I could use in here?”
    Odd question. But then, he’d hit the jackpot on odd this morning, hadn’t he?
    â€œTruckers’ lounge upstairs. Wireless Internet, a computer workstation you can use. Nothing special.”
    â€œI don’t need anything special.”
    â€œI think . . .” he started, then shook his head. “I need to get going.”
    They were standing at the glass doors, looking at the parking lot. He wasn’t the person who ever offered to shake hands, who ever offered to touch anyone else at all, but for some reason, it seemed right this time. He extended his hand, waiting for her to shake it. He wished he was still wearing gloves, but that was one habit Todd had managed to help him break several years before. He didn’t have to wear gloves anymore, but he secretly yearned for them. Once an alcoholic, always an alcoholic; once a glove addict, always a glove addict, he supposed.
    She looked at his hand a moment before she stepped close, hugged him, and kissed his cheek. It felt awkward, but on a deeper level it also felt right. He was a bit disappointed when she stepped away again.
    â€œYou take care of yourself,” she said.
    He nodded numbly and felt his body turning toward the doors, his legs carrying him to the clear air outside, leaving her behind the double-paned glass.
    As he walked toward his rig, he turned to glance back, and she was still standing there, watching him walk. When he turned a second time, she was