Page 70 of That's Not My Name

Max sits beside me, practically lying on the wide window at the end of the booth, and Autumn taps a thumb against the fake marble table in front of us at a frantic tempo. A stack of plastic menus sits untouched by her hand, and I see the waitress giving us the evil eye again from the hostess station. She’s come by at least a dozen times asking if we want anything, and I keep shooing her away, saying we’re waiting for someone. I’m pretty sure she thinks we’re lying or about to rob the place. She bats her gigantic eyelashes at us and wipes the nearly empty front counter. We’re one of only three occupied tables.

The saltshaker tips over, spilling the little crystals all over the menus, and I swipe it on the floor before the waitress sees the mess and sets me on fire with her eyes.

I shove the shaker back toward the center of the table and grip my hands on my lap. Where is she?

The front door dings, and we all turn. Again. Like we have every other time someone’s come into this diner.

A woman stands on the threshold. She’s short and thin, dirty-blonde hair filled with streaky highlights. She’s about Lola’s mom’s age. Nobody’s with her. She scans the booths with a nervous energy.

Bingo.

I tell the others to wait and slide out of the booth. When she sees me walking her way, she barely glances at me.

“Meredith Hoyt?” I ask.

She freezes and narrows a set of dark eyes at me. “Yes?”

I’m suddenly filled with gratitude that she was so late, otherwise I might not have had a clue what to say. The words come easily now that I’m sure of them.

“I know we’re not who you were expecting. My name is Drew, and me and my friends called you about Lola. We think you might be the key to finding her. If you’ll give us a minute of your time, I’ll explain everything.” I gesture to the table where Autumn and Max are waiting.

She looks over at them and then folds her arms.

“I’m really sorry for tricking you into coming here,” I add. “We didn’t think you’d agree to meet with us if we told you the truth, and this could be a life or death situation.”

I let that linger, hoping that she’ll be curious enough to ask me about it.

“Life or death?” she asks with an arched eyebrow. Like she’s annoyed at her own curiosity. And us. Mostly us.

“We’re collecting information about Lola’s disappearance for the police,” I explain. “Sort of like a…neighborhood watch. We’ve been hanging missing person’s fliers, making calls, and trying to track down any leads to help the police find her.”

“Do you know the missing girl?” She shifts on her feet. She hasn’t bolted yet, so that has to be a good sign. “Is she your friend or something?”

“Yeah, we know her,” I say, carefully sidestepping having to admit that Lola’s just my friend, if she’s even that anymore. “We all grew up with Lola. Autumn’s dad is the Washington City sheriff, and she and Lola have been best friends for—”

Meredith’s gaze narrows again. “Wait. She’s thesheriff’sdaughter? Why is she here instead of her father?”

Great fucking question. Would it be appropriate to call the sheriff a prick in front of a total stranger? Probably not if I want to sound even remotely credible.

“It’s a really long story, and we’ll absolutely tell you everything, if you could sit down with us for a minute. Please? You can leave at any time. We won’t hold it against you. A lot has been going on in the search for Lola, and we’re trying to piece it all together to help the investigation. Your story is part of that.”

She unfolds her arms and glances at the door. But I can practically see the curiosity burning on her face.

Finally, she says, “Five minutes. But I’m not happy about this.”

“I wouldn’t be either,” I tell her, truthfully, and lead the way to the table.

She settles herself on the edge of the bench seat beside Autumn,and I slide back in next to Max. Almost as soon as we’re seated, the waitress walks back to our table. She gives a genuine smile to Meredith, but side-eyes the rest of us. “Hello, Meredith. You’re the one these three have been waiting on? So happy you’ve come in.”

Meredith smiles at her. “Hi, Sandra. How are you?”

“No complaints.” She looks around the table, eyeing me specifically, though I have no idea what I’ve done to annoy her more than the others. “Can I take your drink ordersnow?”

I order a coffee for myself and offer to pay for Meredith’s too. She smiles a thank you. Autumn waves her off, happy with water, and Max studies his menu like he’s making a huge life decision. “Can I get a few of those giant cinnamon rolls?”

Sandra frowns. “We only have those in the morning.”

“Why is it on the all-day part of the menu then?” he asks, jabbing a finger at a photo that takes up almost half the page. She glares at him, and I wrestle the menu from his hands. “Fine, fine,” he says. “I’ll have the platter of fries.”

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