The Last Daughter (Tales of the Scrimshaw Doll) Read Online Free PDF Page B

non-thinking job.”
    “And tomorrow we’ll have a fresh pile of trash for your new boyfriend.”
    She looked at him, puzzled, but then it registered that he was talking about the man in the blue truck.
    “Shame on you! He was nice.”
    “He was intense.”
    “Yeah, well, he was nice and intense. Nothing wrong with that.”
    “He sure had eyes for you. Gave me the heebie jeebies.” He gave an exaggerated shiver, and when she laughed, he did it again.
    “You are so mean! He’s not any creepier than you are, Trent Jones!”
    He grabbed her around the waist and spun her to him. “Oh, so you think I’m creepy, do you?”
    “You’re getting that way.” She giggled and pulled away. To her surprise and disappointment, he let her. “Seriously, did you think he was weird? As in maybe not quite right...or dangerous?”
    He shook his head. “Probably just a hard working trash man. He was pretty taken with you though. And no way can you argue with that. Just to be safe, don’t invite him in the house if you’re ever here by yourself.”
    Rayna shivered for real. She hated to think the man might be dangerous. To her, he just looked sad, maybe lonely. There was something in his eyes that said he’d seen horrible things.
    She tugged another strip of paper off the wall, and then another. It felt good, as if she were tugging away the layers of her life and would soon get to the root of who she really was.

Chapter 3
    The wind whipped tree limbs against her third story window. Rayna lay in bed and listened to the sounds Mother Nature made. Oklahoma was certainly different from Louisiana. So far, they’d been under two tornado watches and one warning; she’d only had to go into the first floor closet once. They’d huddled together with sofa cushions over their heads. Trent had told her stories of his childhood, crazy antics he and his siblings had indulged in. His voice had become soft, serious when he told her about his father passing away and his mother rallying the kids, vowing to teach them how to take care of themselves, insisting they all do their part to support the family. Since he was the baby, his part wasn’t as demanding.
    “On second thought, maybe you really are spoiled,” she’d told him.
    He’d acted as if she’d wounded him and pressed his hand against his heart. He was definitely the entertainer.
    Getting out of bed, she shuffled to the window and looked outside. One lonely streetlight shone down on the few bags they’d put outside this evening; one of them had come open, and litter blew everywhere. The neighbors will love that. As soon as the thought left her brain, a blue truck pulled up and parked at the curb.
    “What in the world?” she muttered.
    The man got out of his vehicle and grabbed the open bag spewing paper and trash. With long strides, he gathered up all the debris, examining each piece closely before he stuffed it back inside. What was he looking for? He picked up something, studied it, then crammed it in his pocket. Within seconds, he’d tossed the garbage bags into his truck and sped away. He was spying on them. Going through their garbage in search of something specific. Maybe he was into identity theft.
    “Trent is right,” she mumbled. “Intense and creepy.” She crawled back into bed and went to sleep, dreaming of her personal history tossed about by the Oklahoma wind.
    ****
    As usual, Trent gripped a huge mug of coffee and was sitting at his customary spot at the scarred kitchen table.
    “Morning, sleepy head. Get a good night’s sleep?” he asked when she entered.
    Rayna rubbed her face. “Not really. The wind woke me. When I fell back asleep, I dreamed the guy in the blue truck came and got all the trash bags.”
    “Wasn’t a dream,” Trent said. “He really did.”
    “It wasn’t a dream? Why would he do that? It was after one o’clock.” She poured a cup of coffee and leaned against the counter.
    “There’s something about our trash that fascinates him.