Page 60 of Don't Let Go

Cherry pie was beginning to soundreallygood.

Chapter

Twenty-One

REMY

The diner held a half-dozen customers. A couple of farmer types holding up space at the counter. Another pair at a back table with a game of checkers in front of them. The waitress was just putting on another pot of coffee as we walked in.

Every eye in the place seemed to be on us. The man in the booth nearest us had a newspaper open in front of him and the crossword half-filled out. He studied us carefully. The only one watching without making a show of it was the bearded black man four seats back.

He had his head down, hands wrapped around his coffee cup and a book open that he wasn’t reading. I couldn’t quite get a read on his age, the beard offered some camouflage for his face and the lowered eyes meant I couldn’t quite see the lines around his eyes.

Everyone else made no pretense of openly studying us. The door to the back opened, letting out steam and the smell of frying grease. The cook wanted to get a look at us too.

The waitress finally turned toward us. Dressed in a powder blue shirt dress uniform with a cute apron over the front that had definitely seen better days. She had salt and pepper hair,aged lines marked her face from too much time in the sun. The pinched look to her mouth wasn’t remotely encouraging. The cool assessment in her eyes told me a great deal about how she was taking our weight and measure.

Giving her our back would be a mistake. Noted.

Three facts about Juniper presented themselves in the eerie tableau of the diner. The waitress was the first woman we’d seen since we got here. Not counting her, not a person in the place appeared over forty. Though her time in the sun may be hiding her age.

“You are open, right?” McQuade was asking because the waitress hadn’t moved or said a word. It was like he jolted them all back to action with the statement.

“Sure are. Grab yourself a table and I’ll be over in a minute.”

“Thanks.” McQuade swung his head briefly to meet my gaze. He didn’t like this place anymore than I did. It was full of bad sight lines. He cut a glance to Locke once then back to me and I nodded.

I’d take one side, McQuade would take the other. We’d watch each other’s backs and keep Locke covered. With that in mind, I followed him to a booth closer to the black man. McQuade might have continued past him, but I tapped the table once and he pivoted.

I slid in on the side that would let me look past McQuade to the man who glanced up so briefly, I nearly missed it. His eyes widened a fraction when his gaze struck mine. He hunched his shoulders a little more and frowned at his book.

Filing the behavior away, I leaned back in a stretch and identified everyone in their place. The waitress hustled over with the menus and slid them onto the table. “Breakfast is over, but I might can talk Big Bob into doing some bacon or something if you want.”

“That’s fine,” Locke said, his voice so smooth and easy with the drawl he’d picked up off the deputy. Useful skill, but also creepy. “We heard a rumor about cherry pie and how fine it is.”

The hard lines around the waitress’s eyes relaxed a fraction as she smiled. It took me a moment to register it, but she was blushing. All Locke had done was say something about pie and smile.

McQuade hid a smirk with a cough. “Yeah,” he added in his gruff voice. “The deputy told us not to miss out. That you made the best pie in the county.”

“An endorsement like that,” Locke said as he picked up the thread, “definitely must be followed.”

“Well,” the waitress said pulling a pen from behind her ear before she smoothed down her skirt. She wore a name tag that read “Janice.” “As it happens, we baked up fresh pie today and they’ve had just enough time to cool.”

“What are the chances we can get it with a scoop of ice cream?” Locke put his hands over his heart like he was just begging for it.

“Pretty good,” she answered, then gave his shoulder a slap with her little order check book. “Flirting will get you everything.”

He chuckled.

“Well, Janice,” Locke said smoothly. “May we get three cups of coffee. We’re all big fans of coffee and pie with a little ice cream to cut the sugar.”

Bloody prick. I didn’t scowl at him. I was not a fan of coffee and he damn well knew it.

“I’ll get that for you right now…”

“Hey, Janice…” One of the guys in the back called.

“Wait your turn, Tony, I’ve got real customers here.” She didn’t even look in his direction. “Let me grab your coffee then I’ll go get that pie for you.”

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