I pull out my phone and text Jonah.
Need another favor.Tennessee plate.BKR-8834.White F-250.
You collecting plates now?
Maybe.Can you run it?
Yeah.Give me an hour.
He calls back sooner than that.
"Another rental," Jonah says."Enterprise in Knoxville.Rented three days ago to a guy named Adam Hagelin.Address in North Carolina."
North Carolina.Same as the Ram yesterday.
"You got a description on this Hagelin guy?"
"Hang on."I hear typing."White male, thirty-six, six feet, two hundred pounds.Military affiliation listed.Army. Just like Gordon from yesterday."
So much for coincidences.
"Thanks, man.I owe you."
"You owe me a lot at this point.What's going on, Tim?"
"Just keeping an eye on someone."
"Someone who's got military guys from North Carolina renting trucks?"
"Yeah."
"That's not good."
"I know."
"You need backup, you call me.I'm serious."
"I will."
I hang up and stare at the phone.
Both men spying on Carla.Both from North Carolina.Military.
This isn't random.This is organized.Which means whoever Carla is running from has resources.Has people.Has the kind of network you build over years in the service.
And they're closing in.
I grab my keys and head out.
***
THE DINER IS CALLEDRosie's, and it sits on the edge of town near the highway.Faded red exterior, gravel parking lot, neon sign that flickers.Carla's Honda is in the lot.She's still working.The white F-250 and the Dodge Ram are nowhere in sight.I’m not sure if that’s good news or bad news.
I get out and go inside.
The diner smells like coffee and grease.Booths line the windows.There’s a long counter with stools.Maybe a dozen customers scattered around.
Carla is behind the counter pouring coffee for an old guy in a John Deere cap.She's smiling.Laughing at something he says.Playing the part.But I can see the tension in her shoulders.The way she's positioned so she can see the door.The way her hand keeps drifting toward the apron pocket where I'd bet money she's got pepper spray or a knife.
