Page 4 of Everything She Feared

“Katie?”

“Katie Harmon. She’s nine.”

“Was Katie the only person with Anna at the time?”

“Yes, I believe so.”

“So she was the last person to see her?”

“Yes.”

3

Seattle, Washington

“Three cheese with ham, hash browns, sausage and white toast—”

Around the time Anna Shaw fell to her death, Sara Harmon was relaying orders through the pick-up window at the Jet Town Diner.

“And one bacon scramble, hash browns and wheat toast. And then, Mel, I need two BLT combos on white to go. Thank you!”

Amid the clink of cutlery, the hum of conversations, the sounds and aromas of brewing coffee, sizzling bacon, fried potatoes and onions, Sara returned to working her section.

Today, she had gotten up before dawn, remembering Katie was away at a sleepover with Anna before they’d bused off this morning on a wilderness adventure. Sara’s heart swelled. Katie was her world.Just be safe out there, Sara had thought, telling herself that Katie would be safe because she was with Anna, her babysitter.

That morning, alone at home getting ready, Sara saw the spaghetti sauce that had spilled on her new work shoes at the end of yesterday’s shift, which she’d forgotten.

Oh, no. It looks like blood.

She’d washed it off before heading out to start her 6:00 a.m. shift.

Now, her work morning in full swing, when she glimpsed her new shoes, she was glad the stain was gone and for the soothing extra cushioning.

Sara focused on the diner’s many customers, who’d been coming in steadily all morning. The Jet Town was in the city’s Northgate community, not far from the ramps for the I-5, one the state’s busiest highways, and it was a Seattle favorite. The clientele was mostly blue collar, but being close to the freeway, they got commuters, travelers and shift workers, anyone who wanted good food at a good price.

Working at the diner, Sara had met all kinds of people. There were those who scrutinized spotless drinking glasses or polished perfectly clean spoons with napkins, saying: “This place ain’t the cleanest. I don’t know why I eat here.” There were the Goldilocks nitpickers: “Too cold, too hot, take it back.”

There were the jokers, the touchers, the grabbers, the ass-patters, the jerks who’d read her name tag and say things like: “I can think of other ways you canserveme, Sara.”

There were families with out-of-control children, people with birthdays, anniversaries, something to celebrate. There were couples on first dates and couples who were breaking up. There were demanding customers who never tipped and silent non-complainers who left huge tips and nice notes:You’re awesome. There were salt-of-the-earth regulars from the neighborhood, families whose children Sara had watched grow up.

Through it all she’d become something of an expert at dealing with hungry people, keeping her stress in check, learning to prioritize and always going the extra mile.

Now, as she went from booth to booth, topping off coffee and tending to requests, she saw the man alone in the corner at a two-seat table.

Hunched over his plate, he was chewing the last of his lumberjack combo, a big order. His long gray-and-white hair had been wetted, likely in the bathroom, and neatly combed, his effort to look presentable. His denim shirt was faded, dotted with ancient stains. Under it he wore a long-sleeved T-shirt. He had khaki cargo pants and scuffed hiking boots with broken laces he’d knotted together. His gaze went beyond the window to the edge of the parking lot where the sun glinted on a shopping cart overflowing with bags and half-concealed in the shrubs.

Sara watched him look at his check, then reach into his pocket, pull out a couple of coins and set them on the table with one crumpled dollar, the amount far short of what he owed.

Topping up his coffee, she smiled. “Can I get you anything else, Lonnie?”

Toast crumbs and egg bits were trapped in his wild beard. A blend of hand soap, body odor and a trace of alcohol wafted from him.

Lonnie came into the diner a couple times a month. From what she knew, he was in his fifties. Some years ago he’d lost his wife and children, then his job and his house. He didn’t like shelters, so now he slept under an overpass or in parks.

“Anything else you’d like?”

He gave his head a slight shake and she put her hand on his shoulder.

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