He swallowed and nodded as he stared at the horizon over my head. “Joel wasn’t the same for a long time after her death. Truthfully, he still isn’t, although he’s better.”
“You can’t not be changed when you love someone that deeply. Even through his pain and suffering after her death, my grandfather always said my grandmother was the best thing that ever happened to him. He never regretted one day with her, even the day she died.”
Micah’s eyes slowly lowered and searched mine for something. He did that so often, looking for what was beneath the surface. It appeared as if a million different questions ran through his mind as once.
“We need to head out. The diner is about a half an hour from here,” he finally commented.
I nodded. “Good. We’re hungry, right, boy?” I said to Hound, petting him as I walked past.
Micah snorted. “He’s not getting shit. Damn dog eats me out of house and home.”
I giggled. “And you continue to feed and house him. He has you wrapped around his paw. Don’t you?” I squealed as I scratched him behind the ears.
“I’m not the only one.”
Smirking, I looked down at Hound. In spite of the fact that, at his full height, he almost came up to my waist, I still saw the almost puppy dog look in his eyes. “No, you’re not the only one.”
“He’s not the only one that has me wrapped around his finger, either.”
“What was that?”
“I said we’re going to be late. Let’s go,” he insisted.
I grinned but didn’t say anything as I passed through the door he held open.
Nearly forty-five minutes later, we found ourselves entering the Americano-style diner that was on the outskirts of the small town we were visiting. I glanced around as we took our seats in one of the red, leather booths. To say the diner reminded me of something out of the 60’s would’ve been an understatement.
The laminated tables and leather booths that pressed up against the glass windows of the diner made it feel like the perfect backdrop of some action movie right before the bad guy begins spraying the place with bullets.
“Do you know what she looks like?” I asked as the waitress walked away after handing us our menus.
Micah nodded and pulled out his phone. He scrolled through something, and then turned the screen so that I could see it. I observed the picture of a brunette woman, who appeared to be in her mid-to-late fifties.
“Patricia Heathrow,” he commented.
I nodded.
“You think she knows more than what the sheriff’s department knew?”
“Very much so. The county she lived in was under the direction of a different department than Harlington’s. But they weren’t very interested in the investigation.”
“Why not?”
Micah’s mouth opened, but then his gaze rose above my head. “I’ll tell you later.” He moved from the booth to stand.
I glanced over my shoulder to find Patricia coming our way. Micah waved her over.
“Patricia, I’m Micah. We spoke on the phone. This is Jodi,” he introduced. “Sit here,” he insisted, and he moved over to sit on the same side of the booth as me, allowing Patricia to take his seat. He lifted his hand and called over the waitress to drop off another menu.
“Oh, I’ll have my usual,” Patricia said, smiling at the waitress.
“Are you ready to order?” the middle-aged woman in a sky blue waitress’ dress and an apron politely asked.
Micah and I quickly ordered, having already decided. I watched as the waitress walked off.
“Thanks for meeting with us,” Micah said. “It took some effort to find you. You moved away from Abilane a year ago. Is that right?”
Patricia lowered her gaze to the table. Her hands fidgeted on the table. “Yes,” she finally answered. “I was looking for a change of pace, I guess. My family is from this area. I decided to move back home. My mama’s ill.” She shrugged.
