Trust Me
By
Sydney Somers

Chapter One

    Babysitting a gift shop wasn't the best approach for an alleged murderer to go about keeping a low profile. But then, what were friends for?
    Maxine Walker turned her head at the sound of the tinkling chimes over the door that signaled yet another customer.
    Please, please let this be the last one.
    Only a couple minutes left until closing time and then she could relax. Somewhat. Watching the shop for even a few hours while Sherry took her daughter to the hospital wasn't wise. Here the news didn't flash her picture or carry the story, but River Bend, New Brunswick attracted a number of American visitors, some from the New York area. The odds of anyone recognizing her with her now shoulder length hairstyle in a lighter, toffee colored shade, were slim. But anything could happen and Max refused to be caught off guard again. Thankfully, the afternoon had passed without incident–thus far–and in another sixty seconds, she could flip over the closed sign and lock the door.
    Max glanced at the man studying a selection of homemade preserves, placing him in his late twenties or early thirties. Any minute she expected the little wife to come prancing through the door after him to giggle over the display of chocolate covered raisins someone had affectionately dubbed Reindeer Poop, and insist on taking some home to show their friends. In her short stay with Sherry, Max had seen enough of those yuppie couples to spot one, or more accurately half of one. After a couple of minutes and no wife or girlfriend appeared, Max began to doubt her initial assumption. In fact, the longer she watched him look over the crowded shelves and displays, the more anxious she became.
    Dressed in a two-tone rugby shirt, khaki pants and worn deck shoes, he looked the part of the charmed tourist, but something about him sent goosebumps skating across the back of her neck. Uneasy, Max studied the man more intently, assessing the chiseled planes of his face, right down to the slight curve of his nose and full lips parted in a crooked grin as he toyed with a colorful windmill.
    She couldn't see his eyes since he had yet to remove his sunglasses. And why was that?
    Apprehension pricked her insides before she mentally swept it aside as paranoia. Lots of people wore their sunglasses in the shop, or at least enough there was no reason to read anything into it. Maybe he was simply lazy, or maybe the mirrored lenses concealed the fact he was missing an eye. Maybe she should just quit thinking about it.
    She was safe here.
    From behind the marble counter, she remained aware of his movements as she pretended to sort through a handful of receipts. Had it not been an emergency and Sherry's daughter requiring stitches, Max wouldn't have allowed Sherry to talk her into keeping the shop open. Even though Sherry believed in making a profit, this time around she hadn't cared Max was more familiar with her gun than how to operate a cash register, let alone a debit and credit card machine.   more >>