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“It’s pouring,” Wyrick said.
“So you’re afraid to get your hair wet?” he drawled.
Her lips twitched. “That’s going to cost you.”
“How much?” he asked.
“Corn dogs much.”
He frowned. “Corn dogs? As in wieners in fried cornmeal?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Where the hell do I get corn dogs?”
Wyrick grabbed her phone and began scanning locations.
“The only ones I want are from a Sonic drive-in. We can park in one of their stalls, order from the car. Eat in the car. And I don’t get my hair wet.”
He grinned. “You called my bluff. Deal. Find me a Sonic.”
She found one closest to where they were and entered it into his GPS system.
An hour later they were parked in a stall, sheltered from the downpour by the red metal roofing above them.
Wyrick was sitting sideways in the passenger seat, one leg folded up beneath her, with her back against the door. She was working on the last of her onion rings and was halfway through her second corn dog, sipping Pepsi as she went.
Charlie had already finished a SuperSONIC double bacon cheeseburger and a large order of fries, and was eyeing the ice cream treats available on the menu.
“You gonna want dessert?” he asked.
She glanced at the order board. “Mostly not,” she said.
He chuckled. “Mostly not? I don’t think I’ve ever heard that phrase come out of your mouth.”
“It’s often in my head. I’ll have to remember to voice it more often,” Wyrick said and smeared a little more mustard on the end of her corn dog. “I love these,” she said and took a big bite.
“Why haven’t you ever mentioned wanting these before?” Charlie said.
“Well, they aren’t nearly as good if you don’t eat them on site, while they’re still fresh and hot. I used to do it once in a while...before I moved to Merlin’s. But that was before UT started trying to off me.”
Charlie frowned. Couldn’t even go to a damn drive-in and eat a corn dog without wondering if she’d leave there alive? Every day some offhand remark she made was just a reminder of the hell she’d gone through to stay alive.
“So...are you getting dessert?” she asked.
He gave the ice cream choices a last, longing glance and shook his head.
“Mostly not.”
She grinned and then wiped her lips and stuffed the napkin in the bag with the other trash.
“Are you finished?” he asked.
“Yes. Stuffed. This was a good day. We caught a bad guy and solved an eleven-year-old mystery. I witnessed a young woman decide life was worth living after all, and ate at Sonic. My life, today, is just about perfect.”
“So’s mine,” Charlie said. “Sack up our trash and I’ll dump it on the way out.”
So she did.