Minus Tide Read Online Free Page A

stones. What Ann did recall were the clothes they wore, how they styled their hair, their hands, whether they carried a certain scent or if they had bucked teeth. Voices were important too. She’d learned to tell people apart this way, and most of the time her system worked.
    The waitress poured her another coffee. “Thank you Janet,” Ann said, glancing at the woman’s hands. They’d always seemed aged for someone with such a young voice. Aged by working in restaurants, from scrubbing with chemicals. A silver wedding band sunk as deep as bone, threatening to disappear. Janet took out her green book and tore away a check. She slid it facedown next to the salt and pepper.
    “You bet hon. Just let me know if there’s anything else you want. I could swear Tammy was around when you came in.”
    Ann looked up and tried to smile. She didn’t recognize Janet at all, had never seen her before. She must have cut her hair, Ann thought. Didn’t she wear it just to her shoulders? It didn’t matter now. Janet was close enough for her to see her hands. That’s all she needed to be sure.
    “She must be home by now. I think I’ll stop by her house on the way home. Did Mitch come by?”
    “Haven’t seen him. But the sheriff came in for breakfast this morning with some unpleasant company.”
    “Oh?”
    “Looked like Russians to me. Beefy types in leather jackets and wool turtlenecks. You’ve seen the type around some times. They hated everything I brought them to eat, spat up on their plates like cats. Couldn’t kick them out but I sure wanted to.”
    “What was the sheriff doing with them anyway?”
    “I’ve got no idea. Other than the complaints about the food, they hushed whenever I came by with coffee. But the sheriff was dressed like he’d been fishing, and later on somebody said they’d seen his truck down at the landing dock really early in the morning.”
    A bell rang behind the counter. “Got to run. Charlie’s in a bad mood tonight. Me, I like a good storm.”
    “Me too.”
    “Take care tonight.” Janet hurried behind the counter to the food lamps. She had on a plain pink dress with matching shoes that looked like they pinched her toes. Ann noticed a man in a dirty apron staring at her and looked away.
    Ann took one last warm up of coffee. Business at the 101 was picking up. She guessed the storm was forcing people to take shelter. Rain seeped down the window next to her, distorting the slumped figures of customers headed across the far end of the parking lot. They were soaked through by the time they made it inside, smelling of musty wool jackets, leather, stale tobacco and the sweet inky smell of denim that reminded her of brand new Levis. Ann hadn’t recognized anyone that had come in. Of course faces were of no help, and the extra clothing made things more complicated unless the person wore the same thing often.
    “Ann?” said a man’s voice next to her. Ann jumped in her seat, stared at the black tee-shirt with a grinning skull floating in the middle.
    “It’s only me,” said the voice.
    Has to be Chad Lewis, she thought. Traitor Bay’s death metal freak, worked the crabbing business every winter and took summers off to follow bands. Rumor had it that he still dealt a little pot on the side. Ann had known him since the third grade. Yes she thought, those were Chad’s hands. His nails were so bad from working the traps that he’d started painting them with black polish.
    “What are you doing here?” Ann asked.
    Chad waved toward the empty seat across from her. “Are you going to ask me to sit first?”
    “Sorry. Help yourself.”
    She watched Chad slide in, his shoulder-length blond hair flashing, the envy of most school girls. He took out a comb and began to work it down from the top of his head. Chad liked to make people think he surfed but he’d never ridden a wave in his life.
    “I should have worn a hairnet,” Chad said. “This wind tonight is a real bitch.”
    “I saw boats