Page 15

Special Agent Jack Stone

After wrapping up at the Penalty Box, Fallon and I split ways with Nikki. We drive back to Pine Ridge Falls and grab our laptops and Buddy as well, before driving down to Bea’s Diner.

It’s time for the next phase of our investigation via working through dessert.

Bea’s Diner isn’t just any local eatery, it’s basically the hub of Pine Ridge Falls, where the conversations flow as freely as the coffee. Not only does it sit at the base of Main Street, but it has a spectacular view of the waterfall that roars down from the mountain standing tall at the helm of this small town.

Bea’s is the perfect place to sift through the digital breadcrumbs left by both of our victims, with the added comfort of her homemade pie sustaining us through the hours ahead.

Robin Hanson’s laptop had all of her passwords and usernames stored in the security bank and Nikki copied each and every one of them and gave them to Fallon and me. We’ll be able to work at the diner as effectively as we would have down at the forensics lab in Denver, so that’s what the plan is.

We pull into Bea’s and the diner’s windows glow like a beacon in the night.

“All right, Buddy,” I say, giving him a quick pat over the side as we head for the door. “Dessert is on me tonight.”

“He’ll hold you to it,” Fallon says as I hold open the door for her. “And so will I.”

“You should. I take my dessert seriously.”

“Well, I guess we have that in common.” Fallon pauses in the entry as we take a glance at the crowd amassed here this evening. “Fair warning, I typically opt for two desserts.”

“Fair warning, so do I.”

The warmth inside envelops us as does the buzz of conversation and clatter of dishes.

Easy listening music hums overhead and the scent of grilled burgers overpowers our senses. The décor reminds me of a quintessential fifties diner—black and white checkered floors, red Naugahyde booths, and a few tables scattered around as well.

There’s a long Formica counter, and a few overworked waitresses trying to hold the place together. I cast a quick glance around but don’t see Fallon’s mother, Bea. She’s a no-nonsense, warm-hearted gal and I like her, sometimes more than I like her daughter.

A waitress walks by with a couple orders of what looks like warm apple pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream quickly melting on top, and I can’t help but moan.

“That’s what I’m talking about,” I say, patting my stomach in anticipation of the comfort food to come, but before I can drool another second, the idea of finding any comfort here tonight disappears when I spot Jet tucked away in a booth by himself. “Wonderful,” I grumble, nodding his way.

Just what I needed.

His presence here is nothing but an unwelcome complication, and one that I’m not ready to deal with. I’ll never be ready to deal with Jet.

“Isn’t that your brother?” Fallon nudges me forward. “Let’s join him. I still haven’t officially met him. And he looks in much better shape than the day I saw him back at your cabin.”

That’s because the day she spotted him at my place I had just peeled him off the streets during one of his benders. He had just finished picking his way through the trash for a snack and rolled over on the sidewalk to take a leisurely nap.

He’s dried out pretty well since then. He might be staying with me, but in all honesty, I don’t know what’s going on in his free time.

I want to resist, to find any excuse to keep our worlds separate, if not for a few hours, but Fallon has already started moving in that direction and so has Buddy.

Jet is seated next to a window at the far end of the diner, and as luck would have it, there’s plenty of room for Fallon and me, Buddy included.

“Hey, Jet,” I grunt as we slide into the booth across from him. “Mind if we join the fun?”

“Please do,” he says rather chipper and I’m not sure why, but it annoys the hell out of me.

The burger on his plate is all but gone, and I’m hoping soon he will be, too. Considering he doesn’t drive, he must have walked. It’s a good fifteen to twenty minutes on foot from here to Whispering Woods.

Buddy settles at our feet and Jet reaches down and gives him a quick pat. Jet’s got a baseball cap on, looks showered, not shaved, but neither am I. His clothes look relatively clean, and for that I’m grateful.

“Jet, this is Special Agent Baxter,” I say. “She’s working with Nikki and me now. And that’s her dog, Buddy.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jet says, actually making eye contact with her. It usually takes effort on his part. But then, he’s not loaded, so that’s a win.

“Likewise,” she says. “And please, call me Fallon. We’re neighbors back at Whispering Woods. I’m four cabins down and around the bend. I keep telling your brother you have a better view of the lake.”

“Yeah, but you have a hot tub,” I’m quick to remind her before turning my attention to Jet. “Which you will not see at any time in the near future.”

“Neither will you,” Fallon teases and I frown her way.

“What are you doing here?” I growl at him.

Fallon gives a short-lived laugh. “He’s eating. What do you think he’s doing here?”

“I don’t know, robbing the cash register, thinking about dining and ditching?” I nod his way and he laughs.

“It’s nice to know you’ve got faith in me.” He shrugs over at Fallon. “That’s all right. Someday I’ll swing by your place and fill you in on all the dirt I’ve got on him.”

“Ooh, make it soon,” she tells him, a little too giddy for my liking.

My body heat index spikes at the thought, because there’s no way in hell I’m letting Jet anywhere near Fallon. Especially not on his own.

The scent of sugary perfume wafts over, and the next thing we know, Bea herself is standing at the helm of the table.

“Well, look who the dog dragged in,” she says with a slight country drawl. Tennessee is where Fallon says her mother hails from. Bea is somewhere in her sixties, wears her salt and pepper hair in a beehive, has the same strong cheekbones as Fallon, and wears lots of blue eyeshadow. “How’s it going, Handsome?” She offers my cheek a quick pinch. “This one giving you trouble?” She nods to her daughter and winks.

“He’s the troublemaker,” Fallon doesn’t hesitate to fill her in before turning to Jet. “Did you know that your brother dated just about everyone at Aspen Heights High?”

Jet tips his head and laughs. “And he hasn’t slowed down since.”

“Good to know.” Fallon gives me the side-eye and all I can do is sigh.

So much for making a good impression on her. And for reasons unknown to me, that felt necessary.

“It was nice meeting your brother,” Bea says my way. “He introduced himself when he came in for the interview.”

“What interview?” I grouse, shooting Jet a look that promises certain death.

Is he forgetting that I pack heat? Quantico taught me a lot about decomposing bodies. And I haven’t fully implemented that knowledge firsthand yet. I could dispose of him and no one would be the wiser.

“He came in looking to fill the position for the sign in the window,” Bea says, chipper as a hummingbird. “Jet, you can start anytime you like. Let’s do four days a week to begin with, eleven to seven. You’ll bus, wait tables, and take out the trash before you leave in the evenings. You got a problem with that?”

There goes Bea’s no-nonsense style, and even though that is what I like best about her, right now I’m not liking anything about this conversation.

“No way.” I sit up a notch and Buddy pokes his head between Fallon and me as if to inspect what’s going on. He’s no fool. He senses trouble, too. “But thank you very much, Bea, for thinking about him.”

“I’m not talking to you, Hot Shot.” She’s quick to shoot me down. “Jet, you’re a grown man. You can start tomorrow if you feel like it. It’ll be good training. Other than that, it’ll be Thursday to Sunday and then we can take it from there. Now”—she offers a crooked grin my way—“what can I put in you to make you less cranky?”

Fallon leans her way. “He had his eye on the apple pie, scoop of vanilla to go with it. Maybe make it two scoops of vanilla. He’s been extra cranky tonight.”

I shoot her a look for the quip.

“I’ve got piping hot pie with your name on it,” Bea says. “I’ll bring a round for the table.” She pats me on the shoulder. “It’s okay, Papa. They gotta grow up sometime. If I were you, I’d be more concerned with that one on your right. She’s been known to throw a fit if she doesn’t get what she wants. If you know how to make a girl happy, she might just keep you around just for kicks.”

“Mother,” Fallon scoffs with a laugh buried in her throat. “Stone and I are professionals.”

Bea waves the thought away. “Oh, hon, he’s too hot for me to care about some paycheck, and you know it’s true for you, too.”

I glance her way as Fallon pulls a menu up over her face.

“What’s going on?” someone calls out from behind Bea and the entire lot of us turns that way.