“You have come so far,” Bree told her, her dark gaze holding Sandy’s. “You are the strongest woman I know. You put yourself back together and became the type of person I wish I was. You have no idea how much I admire and envy your backbone.”
She’s not going to tell me. I never thought I’d see the day she let me down.
“Give me a few days. I’m going to look into some things.” Bree took a deep breath. “I want to make sure I’m not crazy first before I tell the police my suspicions.”
“I might be out of business by then.” Truth.
“You’ve got to trust me on this, Sandy.” Her eyes pleaded for understanding.
I don’t understand.
Bree’s head jerked as her gaze shot to the far side of the park. “Did you see that truck?”
Sandy looked in time to catch a flash of red. “The red one?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I swear I’ve seen it five times in the last two days.”
Sandy frowned. “A lot of people around here drive red trucks.” She studied her friend, who appeared sincerely rattled. “Is this part of our minds running away with our thoughts?”
Bree’s laugh was feeble. “I think you’re right. I’ve been looking over my shoulder for a while now.”
“You’re not the only one,” admitted Sandy. “My neck is sore from looking behind me.” She stood and tossed her empty coffee cup in the garbage can at the end of their bench. “I think we need something stronger than coffee.”
“I’m with you.”
TEN
Ollie stepped through the door of the Dairy Queen and inhaled.
Grease. Sugar. Meat.
His mouth watered.
Burgers, fries, and ice cream were some of his favorite highlights of joining the outside world, and the run-down Dairy Queen provided them all. At first he’d visited the DQ a few times a week until he realized a large chunk of his hard-earned money from his new jobs was being eaten away. Literally. Now the DQ was a luxury he allowed himself once every other week. He told the woman behind the counter which burger he wanted and then paused as he struggled to decide on the ice cream. He’d tried every dessert available, but there was something about the combination of vanilla soft serve, hot fudge, and peanuts that kept calling his name.
“Tough decision?”
Ollie turned around. Behind him was a young woman with a sweet smile and purple stripes in her pale hair who stared right into his eyes. His stomach fluttered, and he swallowed hard, unable to form words.
“I like the dip cones myself.” She continued to smile, encouraging him to answer.
“Peanut Buster Parfait,” he blurted, unable to pull his gaze from perfect green eyes. She looked a little older than he, but that could be all the makeup. Since he’d lived with Truman, he’d learned he was a horrible judge of age.
“Is that what you want today, Ollie?” asked Gloria, the DQ employee patiently waiting for him to decide.
He spun back to the counter. “Yes. Parfait.” He counted out cash and handed it over.
“I haven’t had a Peanut Buster Parfait in years,” said the green-eyed goddess behind him.
He glanced back at her out of the corner of his eye as he shoved his wallet back in his pocket. Talk to her.
“It’s good.” Brilliant.
“Then it must be time for me to have one again.” Still smiling, she ordered and then joined him at the far end of the counter, where he’d moved to wait for his food. “Haven’t I seen you at the coffee place in town?” She looked expectantly at him.
“Probably.” How had he not noticed her?
“I’m new around here. Really haven’t met anyone.”
His mind raced for a witty reply. “It’s a nice town.”
“I really hate eating alone. Would you mind if I sat with you?”
“No . . . I mean, that’d be fine . . . It’d be great.”
Her pleased grin made his knees feel like soft serve.
“Here you go, Ollie.” Gloria pushed a tray across the counter to him and winked. A flush heated his face, and he wondered if it was noticeable. “Enjoy your lunch.” She waggled her eyebrows.
“Where’s the ice cream?” he asked.
“Oh, whoops. Hang on.” Gloria grabbed two clear cups next to the soft serve machine and skillfully whipped up two parfaits. She set them together on the counter in front of Ollie and his new friend. “Here you go, you two. Have a great lunch.”
She’d never delivered his food with such enthusiasm. He moved one of the parfaits to his tray and followed the younger woman to a booth with orange seats. He sat, overwhelmed by the fact that this gorgeous, talkative creature wanted to eat with him.
Conversation topics.
“I’m Ollie.”
“Tabitha.” She took a huge bite of fudge and closed her eyes in ecstasy. “You’re a bad influence on me.”
Watching Tabitha eat hot fudge made him slightly dizzy. Unable to move, he stared until her eyes opened. She licked a spot of chocolate off her lip. “You eating?”
He’d forgotten his food. “Yeah.” He unwrapped his burger, unable to start his Peanut Buster Parfait. Is that how I look when I eat one? He took a big bite of greasy burger and chewed. No flavor. His taste buds had gone on strike.
“How long have you lived here, Ollie?” she asked as she focused on her ice cream.
He swallowed. “About two months.”
“You’re a newbie like me.” Her eyes twinkled.
“I’ve only been in Eagle’s Nest two months,” he clarified. “I’ve always lived in Central Oregon . . . in a more remote area.” A pickle crunched in his mouth. He couldn’t taste it; he didn’t care. “Where are you from?” Composing a solid question pleased him.
“I live in Los Angeles. I’m just in town for a little while.”
Disappointment made his heart drop. She wasn’t staying. His fantasy of a girlfriend with purple hair burst like a balloon.
“I’d like to learn more about Eagle’s Nest before I have to leave,” she said encouragingly. “I bet you know some. We could hang out for a while.”
“Sounds good.” He tried to revive his enthusiasm. How long is a while?
She leaned across the table, making her breasts press against her shirt, and held his gaze. “I heard they found a murdered body not too far away.” Her voice was appropriately quiet, but fascination burned in her eyes.
Alarms rang in Ollie’s head.
“Do you know if that’s true?” Tabitha asked. “Or are people making stuff up?”
“It’s true,” he admitted.
Her eyes widened. “Oh! How scary . . . Did they catch who did it?”
“It happened a long time ago,” Ollie informed her, feeling a little guilty for talking about the dead. “It wasn’t really a body . . . Just a skeleton was left.” An image of the skull’s bullet hole flashed in his mind.
“Do they know who it was? Or how long ago it happened?” She took another bite, her gaze never leaving his as she hung on every word. Melted soft serve dripped on the table.
“Well . . . don’t tell anyone, but they think it’s related to a big robbery that happened in Portland a long time ago.”