Page 126 of Long Gone

“You gonna order something?” she asked.

“No,” I said, sliding off the stool. “I need to be somewhere else.”

“James said you were sticking around here all day,” she said, her forehead crinkling with confusion.

“If he asks, tell him I’ll be back.” I headed back to the office. Setting down the laptop, I grabbed my keys and then headed out the back door before Misti could snitch on me. Because I knew Malcolm would chase after me. I had no delusions that he was trying to keep me safe, or whatever excuse he’d pull out to make me think he cared. The cold, hard truth was he didn’t want me to find out anything else without him.

He called my cell as I pulled out of the parking lot, but I ignored the call and drove to Jackson Creek. Twenty minutes later, I was sliding into the last open booth at the café on Main Street. Betty saw me and smiled as she walked by, carrying a couple of plates with burgers and fries. “You’re back! I’ll be right with you in a moment,” she called out as she walked by.

“No problem.”

I grabbed one of the menus at the end of the table and scanned the lunch specials. While I waited, I pulled up the search page on my phone.

By the time Betty returned, I had pulled up multiple images on my phone.

“You know what you want?” she asked with a warm smile.

“I’m trying to decide between the chicken club and the hamburger. Can you point me in the right direction?”

She laughed. “Obviously, you can’t go wrong with either. Everything we serve is good.”

I grinned. “Well in that case, I’ll take the chicken sandwich, sweet potato fries, and an unsweet tea to drink.”

“Good choice,” she said with a wink, then wrote down my order.

“I know you’re busy, Betty, but could you look a couple of photos for me?”

“Sure, I guess,” she said, moving closer to me.

“You said you never forget a face. Is that true, or was that just a figure of speech?”

She preened. “It’s true. Orders too. My memory’s like a steel trap. It comes in handy with the customers, because everyone likes to feel remembered.”

She had a point. I felt good when she’d recognized me.

“You said the day Hugo Burton disappeared that he met with an older man here. Could this be the guy?” I turned my phone so she could see the screen, then swiped through several images of J.R. Simmons, mostly of him in suits, his hair impeccably styled.

She squinted for a moment, then nodded. “Yep. That’s him.”

My heart skipped a beat. “You’re sure?”

“Sure as rainstorm in October. That’s him.”

Excitement bubbled in my stomach. I’d just tied Simmons to Hugo Burton possibly hours before he was murdered. “I know you told me what little you knew about their conversation, but can you remember if it was heated? Did they argue?”

“They weren’t yellin’ or nothing like that, but it seemed tense.”

“Did you hear the older guy threatening Hugo?”

“No, but like I said yesterday, I didn’t really hear their conversation. I could read their body language, though, and neither one of them was happy. Of course, I probably remember it so well because he disappeared that night.”

“That’s really helpful. Thank you.”

She thumbed toward the back. “I’ve gotta get your order in and check on the other customers.”

“Of course,” I said apologetically. “I’m sorry to have kept you.”

As I tried to figure out what to do next, I thought about Hugo’s body, lying out in the open. I should have never agreed to dig up that grave, yet I was finding it hard to feel guilty about it. I did feel guilty that Anton, Mary Ann, and Clarice Burton were still living in the agony of not knowing what happened to their father and husband, but not enough to tell them yet. I hadn’t figured out how to explain how the grave had got dug up, but maybe I could claim I found it that way. I’d work it out later.

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