Page 14 of Tracked
Reaching for my cell, I caught a slight ripple of tension that went through Lara, her worried gaze quickly turning away. Maybe I should’ve asked her to wait in the car.
Yeah, she never would’ve agreed to that.
“Rachel was here on the fourth with this man.” I opened the photo of Brandon and showed it to him.
Ron pulled his bright-red glasses from his head onto his nose, took my phone, and squinted. “The fourth, you said?”
I nodded.
“What day ...” He trailed off and turned to the calendar on the wall behind him. Looking over the rim of his readers, he scanned the dates. “The fourth was a Friday. I had a feeling ... Marlene!” he hollered across the restaurant.
The waitress who was chatting with the family in the booth looked up, and he waved her over.
“Thursdays and Fridays, we have Marlene working the tables so I can help Teddy in the kitchen. If anyone saw him, it was probably her—Marlene.” He put his hand on her shoulder and pointed to me with the hand still holding my phone. “This is Calder Stone. His family lives up the way a bit, and he’s looking for a friend of his.”
“Nice to meet you, Marlene.”
She beamed. “Pleasure to meet you, darlin’.”
“Do you remember this man?” Ron pushed the phone in front of her face. “He would’ve been in about three weeks—”
“Oh, I remember him,” she cut in, all the warmth with which she’d greeted me pushed out with a loud huff and barricaded away by the defensive fold of her arms. If that hadn’t made her opinion of Brandon clear, the scowl on her face spelled out, in all capitals, her dislike. “He’s the one I told you about. Sent back his eggs three times during the lunch rush, all so I’d have to take it off his bill—and then didn’t even leave a tip.”
Great.
“I do remember you mentioning,” Ron muttered, handing back my phone with a shake of his head.
Trading my phone for my notebook from my pocket, I flipped the worn cover open to the marked page. Usually these notebooks averaged a five-case fill rate, depending on how involved they were and how many notes I took. For everyone’s sake, I hoped Rachel’s situation wouldn’t be more than a footnote on a single sheet.
“Did he pay with a credit card?”
“Yes.”
“Ron, could you—”
“Pull the charge from that day?” he finished eagerly. “Sure thing.” He disappeared into the kitchen, a man on a mission.
Giving Marlene a smile, I clicked my pen. “Do you remember the woman he was with?”
The waitress pinched her red lips. “I do. Sweet-looking thing. Had the same green eyes as your friend here, and I remember because they looked just like my little niece’s, and I told her that when she was sitting at the table.”
Lara instantly drifted closer to my side, drawn to the recollection of her sister, and my muscles braced like they would for a fight—for a threat.Maybe that was what she was. Not an exception to my rules, but a threat to my sanity.
“Do you remember overhearing where they were going or what their plans were?” I pressed the pen to the paper, digging the black ink into a dot.
“Oh, no.” Her head moved side to side so furiously, I was surprised we didn’t hear something crack. “After he sent the eggs back the third time, I kept my distance and my quiet. Once my mouth opens, there’s a good chance this baby won’t stop, and the things I wanted to say to that man ... Phew.” She fanned herself with her hand, getting worked up over the memory.
“And the woman he was with, she didn’t mention anything?”
Marlene’s anger deflated in an instant, the very definition of someone who was controlled by their emotions. Fuming fury one moment and then abject pity the next.
“Oh, no. She was so sweet. Pulled me aside and kept apologizing for him sending the eggs back.” As Marlene spoke, I clicked off my pen, growing less and less confident in the fruitfulness of this conversation. “She even tried to give me some cash for a tip from her purse, but I told her to keep it. Almost told her to use it to get herself a new man, but she had to rush outside because he was getting loud with the police in the parking lot.”
I stilled. Maybe this was going somewhere after all.
One of the more fascinating aspects of the retrieval business was the wide berth in people’s definitions ofimportant. The things they thought were significant to tell me and the critical details they brushed off as unessential.Like sharing that Brandon sent back his eggs three times, but not that he ended up in an argument with the police.It was why I relied so heavily on observation, detailed questions, and following only facts I could prove.
“The police were here?” It was my next question, but it wasn’t my voice.
