My normal breakfast order sat in front of me on the diner counter. The hash browns on my fork made it to my mouth only by force of habit. The eggs were cold now, but that was my fault for not bringing my usual appetite to the diner.
“Should I call the vet?” Nell asked, surveying the status of the plate that had been in front of me for a half hour already.
Her conversation this morning eluded me. “Huh?”
“As a kid, when one of the animals went off its feed, we called the vet to figure out what was wrong with it. You haven’t finished a single plate in the last week.”
There was no sense denying it. “Yeah, I guess not.”
Gus, who sat next to me, chimed in. “I’ll take the toast, if you’re not gonna eat it.”
“I’m not givin’ you half off just because you’re sick,” Nell said.
“I’m not sick,” I said. I passed the toast over to Gus.
“Thanks.” He loaded his knife with jam to slather on it.
Nell huffed. “I didn’t figure you for the type,” she said.
I loaded my fork with a bit more hash brown. “Don’t you have someone else to bug?”
She didn’t move.
There didn’t seem to be any other way to get rid of her. “Okay, I’ll bite. What type?”
She leaned toward me. “The type to mope around about a woman.”
“I’m not moping.”
“What woman?” Gus asked.
I glared at him. “Not another word out of you if you want to keep that toast.”
He laughed. “Sensitive, huh? You havin’ one of those PMS moments?”
Nell rolled her eyes.
“What?” he asked. Gus wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed.
“Women have PMS issues, not men, you idiot,” Nell told him.
“So?” Gus shrugged and went back to eating my toast.
Nell left me in peace for the time being.
I pushed the food around on my plate.
Gus pointed. “What about the bacon?”
I handed him one of the two strips.
Less than ten minutes later, Nell was back. “What’s her name?”
I gave in, because I would never hear the end of it if I didn’t, and I liked having breakfast here. “Deb.”
“Do I know her?”
I shrugged.
“What color hair?” she asked.
Gus stopped eating to listen in.
“Red,” I answered.
I could see the wheels turning as Nell went through her mental database of girls in town, trying to figure out which one was my Debbie.
“Works at Mama’s Minimart?” Nell asked.
I nodded.
“She’s stuck up,” Gus interjected.
I shot him a scowl. “Nobody asked you.”
Chapter 26
Luke
Jeremiah had left a half hour ago, after I finished with his bike. He’d insisted I up the boost limit on his supercharger.
I’d only agreed after warning him; it would be his fault, not mine, when he got stranded a hundred miles from home with a blown engine. He was just the type of hothead to ignore good advice and end up that way. His problem, not mine.
Then the fool had forgotten his fucking gun on the table.
I dialed him, but he didn’t pick up. No surprise. So I sent a text to go along with the voicemail.
ME: Come back and get your fucking gun before I toss it
Since the piece was worth at least five hundred bucks, that would get him motivated.
The doorbell rang.
Fuck me. I hadn’t heard Jeremiah’s bike roll up, and Nesbit was overdue for a surprise visit.
I grabbed the gun, opened the back door from the kitchen, and tossed it out. Even if it wasn’t mine, Nesbit would send me back to Augusta in a heartbeat if he found it in the house. “Coming,” I yelled as I pulled the recalcitrant door closed. I really needed to fix it. I rushed to the front.
Nesbit was such a pain, always coming by early or late and screwing up my schedule. He had a knack for that.
“Screw you,” I said loudly as I yanked open the door with my best fuck you scowl painted on.
It wasn’t Nesbit.
Debbie cringed and stepped back. I’d never expected to see her again.
“Sorry,” I said quickly, trying to fix my mistake. “I thought you were somebody else.”
She stepped back. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come.” She was shaky and breathing erratically.
Another few days with her, only to see her go again, was not something I wanted to repeat. “Maybe not.”
She shifted to the other foot, the side that had been her bad hip before she left. At least she’d healed somewhat. “Can I come in?” she asked. “I have a lot to explain.”
“I thought you were gone for good.”
“Please,” she pleaded.
I opened the door wide, a sucker for that word from a vulnerable woman. “Of course.”
I escorted her into the kitchen, resisting the temptation to guide her with my hand to her back. Touch would only reignite the fire I’d been dousing for the last week.
“I’ve been driving all day. Could I have something to drink?”
“How about a glass of wine?” My taste alternated, but I took her as more of a wine girl than beer.
“That would be nice.” She collapsed into a chair at the table.
I held up a bottle of chardonnay from the fridge. “White okay?”
“Sure.” She nodded to the corner. “I see you’re still taking care of Racer.”
The cat’s dish sat where I’d left it this morning.
“Yeah. Pain in the ass.”
“Why’s the back door open, then?” she asked.
I looked over. She was right; it hadn’t closed fully when I’d thrown the gun outside. I put the wine down and lunged for the door. “Shit. It better not have gotten out.” I swung it open and stepped outside. “I was taking out the garbage,” I explained.
No cat.
When I returned, Debbie was already busy, checking under the furniture and calling the cat.
Two minutes later, neither of us had found it anywhere.
“You shouldn’t have left the door open,” she said.
Duh.
She followed me out back. The evening light was getting dim.
I went left, and she went right.
Nothing.
“Get a bowl of food, the wet kind,” Debbie instructed.
I made it up the steps before I remembered. “I’m out.”
“Tuna fish will do, if you have that.”
“Yeah, I think I have some.” Brooklyn was going to kill me.
While I went inside, Debbie sat on the bottom step and started clicking.
I found a single can of tuna in the back of the cupboard, opened it, and forked it onto the plate I’d been using to feed the demon cat.
By the time I got outside, Debbie had the monster in her lap and was petting and cooing to the stupid thing. She stood and carried it up the stairs.
The cat hissed at me as it went by.
I was tempted to hiss back, but held my tongue. Following them in, I made sure the door was securely closed this time, and locked it. The food dish went down in its usual spot.