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Haley shielded her eyes from a ray of sunlight that had found its way in through one of the diner’s dusty windows and went to pour him a cup of coffee. As she sat the pot back down on its burner, she felt Chris’s hand on her shoulder. Chris had always been hands-on. Perhaps a little too much. But as much as she didn’t like it, she knew he meant no harm.
“Just heard about Tiffany,” he said. “Any new word?”
She shook her head and handed him the coffee.
“Sweet Jesus,” he murmured. “You know, when you mix with folks you shouldn’t mix with, you’re just asking for trouble.”
“She isn’t with Charles. Sheriff said he spoke with him last night.”
Chris mumbled something under his breath and reached beneath the counter for the shift schedule. “If you want, you can go on home. Kim can cover the floor before Erica’s shift. She should be in any minute.”
“No, it’s okay. Better to keep busy,” she said, wiping the counter.
He stood with the schedule and studied it briefly. Then,his good eye met hers while the lazy one seemed to study the two customers behind her. “I’m sure she’s just run off and is in one piece. No need troubling yourself anymore than you already are with your daddy and all.”
She hadn’t run off. Haley was sure of it. But she was too tired to argue, so she said nothing.
Chris’s hand was on her shoulder again. He gave it a little rub and Haley tried not to shrink away from his touch. “Change your mind about taking off early today, let me know. I’ll be out back.”
Chapter 11
BY TWO O'CLOCK, the lunch crowd at Luke's had moved out. Chris and Austin were scrubbing the grills in the trailer out back, preparing for the di
Erica hauled a rack of clean silverware from the kitchen and set up at the counter to roll it, all the while mulling over the possibility that something could have really happened to Tiffany Perron. She’d heard men shouting the girl’s name in the woods that morning and wondered what was going on. The word was she went out on Saturday night and no one had seen her since.
Most of the townsfolk who frequented Luke's that morning didn't seem to be quick to get excited about her disappearance. The ones who knew the girl seemed to suspect she was just off somewhere with a boy. It was the people who didn’t know her who seemed to be doing the majority of the worrying.
Grand Trespass, albeit small, wasn’t i
The plump, 50'ish attendant from the gas station across the street sat at the counter talking with Kim Theriot, Luke's assistant manager. Erica listened to the two as she rolled the silverware.
“What do you suppose happened to the Perron girl?” the attendant asked, lighting a cigarette. When she exhaled, Erica could see that the butt bore a disgusting red ring from the woman's lipstick.
Kim wore a Houston Oilers t-shirt and was squeezed into a pair of blue jeans. She sat slumped next to the cash register, focusing on a crossword puzzle. “No tellin',” she muttered. “Tiffany has ants in her pants. Always has. Probably up and left the state knowin' her. That's all she ever talks about anyway. Goin' off. Leavin'. Becoming some big movie star.” She chuckled. “As if.”
Erica hated Kim more than she did Tiffany. And that was saying a lot. Kim was two years older and had been one of the nastiest bullies Erica had to deal with growing up. In grammar and high school, Kim picked on her relentlessly, spreading rumors and labeling her a devil worshiper. Once in the school’s bathroom she even threw a live cockroach in Erica’s hair. But Erica always acted as though she didn't give the older girl a second thought. She'd never admit to Kim or anybody that she could be hurt.
“Show them your weaknesses, and you'll be forced to own them. That's all they'll be able to see in you,” her mother had told her. She’d been right, but still, it hadn't protected her from the constant pain.
Chris wandered in from the trailer and went quietly to the front door. He stared at the sugarcane field across the street.
“A bunch of folks from Chester and Truro just began a new shift in that search of theirs,” the attendant said. “A man from Lafayette and some hounds of his are out there with them.”
“Sounds like the sheriff is takin' this pretty serious,” Chris muttered.
“He's just protecting his ass is all because she’s Julia Perron’s daughter,” Kim grunted, setting the puzzle aside. She unwrapped a piece of gum. “Knows he won’t have a peaceful di
Kim popped the gum in her mouth and looked up. A sliver of bright sunshine danced across her face, emphasizing the cavernous pock marks sprinkled across her blotchy cheeks. “Those windows are filthy,” she said, shielding her eyes and scooting her stool a foot to the left. She winked a beady eye. “Mind takin' some cleaner to them, Miss Erica?”
Erica’s face burned. Although technically she knew she shouldn’t argue with Kim because of her status at the diner, she also knew Chris would have her back if she did. He’d done it a number of times before. “Not in my job description,” she muttered, avoiding Kim’s eyes. “But it might be in yours.”
The attendant giggled heartily, streams of smoke flying out of her nostrils.
Kim straightened in her seat and squinted. “Excuse me, ma'am? Care to say that again?”
Soon, you'll be gone, Erica reminded herself, trying to remain calm. You'll be out of Grand Trespass, and you'll never look back. And Kim, she'll remain here with her crossword puzzles and bad skin. . . and rot.
“You ever wonder why you get such a kick out of bullying people younger than you?” Erica asked. This time she met Kim’s glare. “Because it’s pretty pathetic if you ask me.”
Chris appeared amused, but interrupted anyway. “Now, now, girls. Although I usually enjoy a good cat fight, today’s not the day.” He grabbed some paper towels from beneath the counter and walked to the door that led to the trailer. He regarded them again and although they stood just a couple of feet apart, with his lazy eye, Erica couldn’t tell if he was looking at her or Kim. “Let’s enjoy some peace and quiet today with everythin’ goin’ on out there. Forget the windows. I’ll get ‘em myself.”
***
MOMENTS LATER, THE cow bells clattered and Rachel Anderson, the creative writing teacher from the community college walked in. Rachel, wearing a long lavender skirt, her long, blonde hair pulled into a neat French braid, sca