“Yeah, that’s the one.” He shifted in his seat, interlocking his hands on the table. “Actually, it’s the only one to drink at, really.”
“Have you lived here all your life?” I asked.
“Yes. Well, mostly—we moved here when I was two. It’s not as bad as you think. I mean, there’s not much to do, but it’s pretty if you like mountains and stuff, and we make our own fun.”
“It seems nice,” I said.
There was a stretch of silence. He fiddled with his fine-boned fingers and spoke to the floor, “I’m going out on Saturday night with a couple of friends. If you’re still in town, you could join us?”
“Oh . . . um . . . I’m not sure. Let me think about it.”
“We go out every Saturday night. We usually head down at about nine, so if you get bored or...” He paused like he was lost for words. “Come down.”
Keen to extract myself from the awkwardness, and needing to find somewhere to stay before nightfall, I finished my last mouthful of coffee and rose. “I better get going. It was nice to meet you, BJ.”
“Yeah, you too. Hope to see you around, Amy. If you need anything, Ma owns Mystic Haven. I help out sometimes. Just pop on in.” He indicated toward his mom with his head. I met her eyes and managed something that resembled a smile. Her eyes lit up as she smiled back.
I wasn’t sure if his offer was exceptionally kind, given he’d known me less than a minute, or a little weird. I figured it was just some sort of small-town etiquette thing.
I walked out of the diner and squinted into the bright sunlight. My mind fell back to the missing people.
If I disappeared today, no one would even notice me gone.
Chapter 7
The Realtor
Alittle bell indicated my arrival at John’s Realty, even though the reception was manned by anolder, white-haired lady. Her badge read: Mabel.
Mabel looked up as if surprised someone had entered the office and put down the Mills and Boon book she’d been reading.
“Can I help you?” she asked with a smile.
“Yes, I’d like to inquire if you have any short-term rentals available.”
“Just a minute, dear.” Mabel rose slowly, using her hands on the desk to help her rise. Her thighs slapped together as she walked down a corridor, throwing her walk into an unbalancedwobble. She repeated my request to someone I couldn’t see.
A deep, male voice said, “Tell her I won’t be a moment.”
Mabel returned and said, “John won’t be a moment.”
Seconds later, a tall man came out. His thinning gray hair was plastered across the bald spot on his head like claws clinging to a perch. He was built like an inverted tree. Wide shoulders, thick middle, and pencil-thin legs. He wore a pale chambray shirt that bulged over the top of his slacks, and a belt with a big silver western buckle.
“Come on in, love.” He ushered me into his small office space. The office didn’t have much in the way of furnishings—a simple wooden desk with the few necessary stationery items, an old filing cabinet, and two well-worn leather chairs. A half-drunk cup of coffee steamed beside a newspaper on top of the desk. The front page read:
“Another Fatal Car Accident Rocks Church Heights.”
There was an image of a gray car crumpled on rocks over a steep cliff edge.
John snatched the paper up and slipped it into a drawer. He indicated with his hand for me to sit. His chair creaking and rocking backward under his weight.
“My name is John. Mabel tells me you need a short-term rental?”
“Amy. Yes, please, if you have anything?”
“Do you have any references?” He studied me like he was analyzing me for a job application.
“No, sorry. I’ve only ever lived with my parents.” I squirmed in my chair. “But I’m clean and tidy, and can provide a few months’ rent up front.”
