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The woman finally takes her eyes off Rhett.
“Crystal,” she snaps out, “Crystal Cheri.”
It’s a painfully obvious fake name, but I don’t press.
“Crystal. Nice to meet you. I apologize for my partner here. He needs to work on his manners.”
I shoot Rhett a look, but he isn’t paying me any attention. He is studying the woman with such intensity that I wonder if he knows her.
“We’d like to ask you some questions, if that’s okay.”
“I’m sorry,” she barks over my shoulder, referring to clawing Rhett’s face. “You scared me—I’m sorry. A—are you guys cops?”
“No. Is this your house?” I ask, knowing that it isn’t, but not quite sure how to begin the questioning.
“No,” Crystal responds, her body appearing to relax a bit. She picks up a flashlight laying haphazardly on the floor next to her, and clicks it on. A dim orange light reflects off the yellow-stained wall and illuminates the room. Dark shadows slash across her face giving her a ghostly appearance.
“I’m just…” She shifts into a cross legged position and another tattoo reveals itself, this of a wolf howling on her inner thigh. “Staying here for a little while.”
She’s homeless, like Rhett.
“Are you from here?” I ask.
“No. From Tennessee. Just traveling through.” She nods to the camera on the floor, next to her bag. It is an expensive-looking camera and I wonder if she stole it. “I’m a photographer. Landscapes, mostly. I travel through here every year taking pictures of the fall foliage. And then sell them online.”
Her attention has shifted onto Rhett again, but this time, her consideration is different. Curious rather than fearful. I remember this feeling also. After the surprise of the man wears off, there is the sudden acknowledgement of:OMG, this man is hot.
I don’t like the way she is looking at him.
“How long have you been here?” Rhett speaks.
“A little less than a week.”
“I understand that someone saw you in here and you ran, is that right?”
“Themissingguy, you mean?” She snorts.
“Yes. His name is Jesse Taylor.”
She nods. “His pictures are tacked up all over the telephone poles. He’s come in here a few times. Only saw me once, though. And yes, I ran. We never spoke.”
“Have you seen anyone else?”
Crystal shifts, looks away.
“His dad, maybe?” I press. “Older man, brown hair.”
She refuses eye contact. I glance at Rhett, who has also picked up on the instant demeanor shift as well.
“Jesse Taylor’s dad. You’ve seen him, haven’t you?” Rhett asks.
“Listen,” she says, grabbing the flashlight from the floor and turning the room into a discotheque of light as she repositions it next to her. “I don’t want to be involved in this. I’ll pack my bag and be on my way. Please don’t call the police. I’m just passing through. I’ll be gone in an hour if you guys will just let me be. I don’t mean any harm…” Looking at Rhett’s bleeding cheek with remorse, she repeats, “I’m sorry. I thought you were going to attack me. I didn’t mean—”
“I know you didn’t.” There is empathy in Rhett’s tone. I notice he is looking at her differently now, too, like he understands her.
Jealousy twists in my gut. He is attracted to her. Of course he is. She is prettier than me. She is skinnier, smaller than I am. She is eccentric and interesting. Yes, I assume that’s the kind of woman Rhett likes. Not a boring tabby cat like myself.
“When was the last time you saw Jesse?” he asks.
