Page 21 of The Killer You Know

Bea’s is the perfect place to sift through the digital breadcrumbs left by both of our victims, with the added comfort of her homemade pie sustaining us through the hours ahead.

Robin Hanson’s laptop had all of her passwords and usernames stored in the security bank and Nikki copied each and every one of them and gave them to Fallon and me. We’ll be able to work at the diner as effectively as we would have down at the forensics lab in Denver, so that’s what the plan is.

We pull into Bea’s and the diner’s windows glow like a beacon in the night.

“All right, Buddy,” I say, giving him a quick pat over the side as we head for the door. “Dessert is on me tonight.”

“He’ll hold you to it,” Fallon says as I hold open the door for her. “And so will I.”

“You should. I take my dessert seriously.”

“Well, I guess we have that in common.” Fallon pauses in the entry as we take a glance at the crowd amassed here this evening. “Fair warning, I typically opt for two desserts.”

“Fair warning, so do I.”

The warmth inside envelops us as does the buzz of conversation and clatter of dishes.

Easy listening music hums overhead and the scent of grilled burgers overpowers our senses. The décor reminds me of a quintessential fifties diner—black and white checkered floors, red Naugahyde booths, and a few tables scattered around as well.

There’s a long Formica counter, and a few overworked waitresses trying to hold the place together. I cast a quick glance around but don’t see Fallon’s mother, Bea. She’s a no-nonsense, warm-hearted gal and I like her, sometimes more than I like her daughter.

A waitress walks by with a couple orders of what looks like warm apple pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream quickly melting on top, and I can’t help but moan.

“That’s what I’m talking about,” I say, patting my stomach in anticipation of the comfort food to come, but before I can drool another second, the idea of finding any comfort here tonight disappears when I spot Jet tucked away in a booth by himself. “Wonderful,” I grumble, nodding his way.

Just what I needed.

His presence here is nothing but an unwelcome complication, and one that I’m not ready to deal with. I’ll never be ready to deal with Jet.

“Isn’t that your brother?” Fallon nudges me forward. “Let’s join him. I still haven’t officially met him. And he looks in much better shape than the day I saw him back at your cabin.”

That’s because the day she spotted him at my place I had just peeled him off the streets during one of his benders. He had just finished picking his way through the trash for a snack and rolled over on the sidewalk to take a leisurely nap.

He’s dried out pretty well since then. He might be staying with me, but in all honesty, I don’t know what’s going on in his free time.

I want to resist, to find any excuse to keep our worlds separate, if not for a few hours, but Fallon has already started moving in that direction and so has Buddy.

Jet is seated next to a window at the far end of the diner, and as luck would have it, there’s plenty of room for Fallon and me, Buddy included.

“Hey, Jet,” I grunt as we slide into the booth across from him. “Mind if we join the fun?”

“Please do,” he says rather chipper and I’m not sure why, but it annoys the hell out of me.

The burger on his plate is all but gone, and I’m hoping soon he will be, too. Considering he doesn’t drive, he must have walked. It’s a good fifteen to twenty minutes on foot from here to Whispering Woods.

Buddy settles at our feet and Jet reaches down and gives him a quick pat. Jet’s got a baseball cap on, looks showered, not shaved, but neither am I. His clothes look relatively clean, and for that I’m grateful.

“Jet, this is Special Agent Baxter,” I say. “She’s working with Nikki and me now. And that’s her dog, Buddy.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jet says, actually making eye contact with her. It usually takes effort on his part. But then, he’s not loaded, so that’s a win.

“Likewise,” she says. “And please, call me Fallon. We’re neighbors back at Whispering Woods. I’m four cabins down and around the bend. I keep telling your brother you have a better view of the lake.”

“Yeah, but you have a hot tub,” I’m quick to remind her before turning my attention to Jet. “Which you will not see at any time in the near future.”

“Neither will you,” Fallon teases and I frown her way.

“What are you doing here?” I growl at him.

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