Cold Springs(89)

“Chadwick,” Jones murmured. “We don't have to—”

“Sit down,” he said softly. “Order something.”

He stared at the off-color pictures of eggs and bacon, the smiley-face pancake meals. He tried to convince himself he was hungry.

One of the truckers said, “Nigger,” just loud enough for the comment to slice the air.

Chadwick looked up. None of the truckers were looking at them, but one of them—a guy wearing a green bowling shirt—was grinning at his pals.

“Forget it,” Jones said tightly. “Ain't worth it.”

But Chadwick's nerves were too raw to forget. He rose.

“Hey,” Jones insisted softly. “They're rednecks. They don't change—it isn't worth trying.”

Chadwick walked toward the window booth.

Jones cursed, then fell in behind him, muttering, “Or if you insist . . .”

Green Shirt's smile melted as he realized just how big Chadwick was, and saw the bulge under the shoulder of his coat—the gun Chadwick was making no great effort to hide.

“The lady needs an apology,” Chadwick told him.

“Shit, man,” Green Shirt said, sliding his words sideways, so as to make himself invisible to criticism. “Apologize for what? Get a little brown sugar, it turns your head.”

Chadwick grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked him out of the booth, over his friends, spilling him onto the floor like so much laundry. The other two men pressed themselves against the window.

“Get up,” Chadwick told him. “Apologize.”

“Jesus, man—”

“Chadwick,” Kindra said, then she turned to the truckers, her voice urgent and polite. “Look, gentlemen—Mr. Chadwick here has had a rough night. I would humor him. Really.”

Suddenly, she and the truckers were unlikely allies—the common enemy being Chadwick's rage. Chadwick knew this, knew he should be in control, but he no longer cared.

“You were out of line, Eddie,” one of the guys in the booth offered. “She's right.”

Eddie with the green shirt got up from the floor, wiped the spit off his mouth. He tried for a tough-guy look, but the fear kept melting it off his face. “Sorry. I'm sorry. Okay?”

Chadwick walked back to the counter, but the waitress had reclaimed their menus. “I think y'all should look elsewhere for breakfast,” she told them primly.

“Good idea,” Kindra answered. “That's an excellent idea.”

She didn't have to worry about Chadwick arguing. The fight had gone out of him.

They walked to the car, leaving three terrified truckers and a sour old waitress with something to talk about for weeks. Another local publicity triumph for the staff of Cold Springs.

Chadwick got behind the wheel, stared through the windshield. The sun wasn't up yet, but the east was lightening, turning the color of wolf fur.

“I appreciate the sentiment and all,” Kindra said, “but don't fight my fights, okay?”

“That wasn't for you. If it was for you, it might've been excusable.”

She spread her hands. “Okay. Whatever, Chadwick. Remind me not to grow up my kids the Air Force way, huh? It sure as shit doesn't work.”

Chadwick didn't respond. He was trying to get up his nerve to call Hunter and admit defeat, formulate Plan B.

Then his cell phone rang.

Chadwick picked it up, expecting Ann with flight information.

Instead Mallory's voice said in his ear, “You passed right by me. You're supposed to be this great tracker of kids.”

Brave words, but her voice didn't sound taunting. It was broken as static.

“Where are you, Mallory?” he said. “How'd you get this number?”

“It wasn't genius work,” she told him. “I called Cold Springs. I got your voice mail. Your recording gives your cell phone number. Listen—I've got a problem.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“I mean a bigger problem than running away. Pérez is after me. He's trying to kill me.”

“Tell me where you are. I'll protect you.”

“Where have I heard that before?”

“What's your other option, Mallory? Running?”

“What the hell was I supposed to do—sit and take a bullet? Look—I'll make a deal with you. I'll tell you where I am.”

“You're at Town Creek, with that crowd of teenagers.”

“Not anymore. I'll meet you. But you've got to come alone. Promise you'll listen to me. Then you can decide if I have to go back to Cold Springs.”

“There can't be any if to that.”

“But you have to listen to me first. You've got to promise you'll hear me out. Agreed?”

Chadwick thought about it, but despite trying hard, he couldn't see any downside.

They agreed on the all-night convenience store back in Fredericksburg.

Mallory hung up without a goodbye.

Kindra said, “You're negotiating with that girl?”

“I'm bringing her in.”

“Rendezvous at a convenience store? What's that about?”

“I still owe you breakfast, don't I?”