Page 96 of Stone Coast
He seemed like the kind of guy that could handle anything life threw at him, and he’d dish it right back.
“Her loss,” I said.
He gave me a brief glance but said nothing.
“How did you connect with Xzavier?”
“Xzavier has a gift for finding people at the right time and pulling them together.”
“You believe in the mission?”
“Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”
“You believe in themethod?”
“I’m not going to say the ends justify the means. It’s too easy to lose sight of things with that kind of rationale. But let’s take the case of the Bay Butcher. He killed 16 teenage girls. Did unspeakable things. PBPD mishandled evidence, failed to secure crime scenes properly, coerced witnesses, and searched his place without a warrant. Morons. To top it off, they planted evidence and got caught doing it.” TJ shook his head in dismay. “Tainted the whole case. The guy got off. Do you think he would have just stopped on his own? How many more families should needlessly suffer such a horrific loss because the PBPD dropped the ball? I see my daughter in the face of every one of those victims.”
“I take it the team is responsible for getting him off the streets.”
“I can neither confirm nor deny he’s at the bottom of the ocean. But the killings stopped.”
“How long are you going to do this?”
“Until I don’t need to anymore.”
We pulled into the lot at Waffle Wizard and TJ found a place to park. I stumbled out of the truck, my head still throbbing.
The hostess greeted us with a cheery smile as we stepped inside. “Table for two?”
TJ nodded.
The cute blonde grabbed two oversized laminated menus and escorted us across the checkered tile to a red vinyl booth by the window. We slid into the bench seats, and she dealt out the menus. “Enjoy your breakfast.”
Her skirt twirled as she spun around and returned to her station.
The diner was packed.
The scent of coffee, bacon, and maple syrup drifted through the air. Forks scraped against plates, and the murmur of conversation echoed. The greasy grill hissed, and bacon and eggs sizzled.
There were plenty of faded trucker caps, sunburned tourists, and bleary-eyed college students nursing hangovers. Overworked waitresses slung waffles and hash browns, pretending to enjoy it.
With my Queen Bitch cap and dark sunglasses, I wasn’t out of place at all. I didn’t garner a second look from our waitress when she sauntered to our table. And if she did, sheknew better than to ask. “You know what you want, or do you need a minute?”
TJ looked at me, and I nodded.
“I’ll take the Wizard Special,” I said.
“Steak and egg special for me,” TJ said.
The waitress smiled. “Coming right up. I’ll be right back with some coffee and orange juice.”
Valerie collected the menus and darted away.
She returned a few minutes later, poured steaming coffee, and set down a pitcher of orange juice.
TJ and I shot the breeze, and I pestered him for more details about the organization and Xzavier.
Valerie returned with our entrées and clanked the plates down. It smelled divine. She set down maple syrup and various jams and jellies. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can get you.”
