Page 25 of Long Gone

“So you know of them?”

“I know Burton’s missing.”

“And Colter?”

He was silent for a moment, then said, “I know of him.”

I found it interesting he knew about either of them. Five years ago, Malcolm had lived in Fenton County, and from what I understood, he’d been dealing with a turf war. I found it odd that he would know about a small-time developer about a hundred miles away in a two-bit, rural county. Then again, men like him didn’t get into power unless they had a wealth of information, and there was a chance he’d only learned about the pair after moving here.

“Hugo Burton’s wife thinks he’s dead, while the sheriff’s department thinks he ran off. I’m looking into what really happened to him.”

His brow cocked slightly. “Why?”

“Because I’m being paid to do so.”

“Someone hired you?” he asked, sounding surprised.

I decided to ignore his reaction. “Do you have an opinion one way or the other about what happened to Hugo Burton?”

“You’re assuming I give a shit either way.”

“Come on, Malcolm,” I cajoled. “If you know about him, you have an opinion.”

“Who said I know anything about him? Maybe I just heard his name in passing.”

He was playing games, and I didn’t want to play. I was too busy trying not to salivate at the thought of drinking a Jack and Coke. So I turned around and walked back to the table. I’d get more out of him later.

Chapter 7

“What were you talking to Malcolm about?” Louise asked with a wary look.

“I gave him my order, then suggested he try being less overprotective of his waitstaff.” A flagrant lie that made me feel guilty, not only because it was a lie, but because I found it oddly endearing that he cared so much for their welfare. I never would have expected it of a man with his past and position.

I asked Nate about his week at the bookstore. He told us several cute stories about the children who frequented his store.

“You know why your customer base is so toddler heavy, right?” Louise asked as the new waitress brought our food to the table. Her name tag read Angie.

Nate groaned as he took his basket of wings from her. “Not this again.”

“I want to know why he has so many toddlers in his bookstore,” Angie said eagerly. “You own Morty’s Bookstore, right? I’ve been in there before and you helped me find a poetry book.” Blushing slightly, she gave him a quick, appraising look, and the smile on her face suggested she liked what she saw. Truth be told, it wasn’t the first time a woman had looked at him like that since we’d started meeting here once or twice a week over the last month. But the looks usually came from other patrons and Nate never seemed to notice.

Louise leaned across the table toward her. “Because their mothers are bored, and they imagine Hot Nate boning them against the bookstacks.”

Nate’s face turned bright red as Angie’s grin spread. “I can see that.” She handed the chicken sandwich to Louise, and I took the hamburger.

“That is not true,” Nate choked out in protest.

“You’re cute when you blush,” Angie said and started to turn around.

“Hey, Angie,” Louise called out. “Can you bring us another round of beers?”

“Sure thing,” she said, then flounced back to the bar.

“I’m never going out with you two again,” Nate protested as he reached for several napkins from the holder at the end of the table.

“Lies,” Louise said. “You need us. Your social life is just as pathetic as mine.”

His brow rose and he gave her a death stare.

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