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If he were a drinking man, he thought as he drove back to town, he’d be turning to a quart of whiskey about now.
Instead, he’d settle for a good, stiff cup of Fae and Mae’s coffee.
BY EIGHT-THIRTY, MIRANDA was at her computer, morning chores already behind her. From her desk, she pulled out a ream of colored paper, the pastels she used to create flyers advertising her barrel racing clinic and horse-breaking services. She’d have to rearrange her schedule and disappoint her clients, she thought numbly, as she fed pale pink sheets into her laser printer.
When she pulled up a picture of Shannon on her desktop, a lump in her throat threatened to choke her. It was a close-up shot of Shannon and Poker, standing near Paige’s barn. Miranda used her software program to zoom in on her sister, then cropped the photo so that her face was clearly seen. Then she ran off several dozen copies and drove to town. She’d arranged to meet her mom and Tori at the Truck Inn.
When she got there, the two were sitting at the counter nursing cups of coffee. Booths and tables alike were full to near capacity with hungry truck drivers and local customers. Behind the counter, Fae and Mae moved with the practice of years spent at a job they enjoyed, balancing impossible numbers of platters and calling out orders to the cook. The sound of a sizzling grill drifted from the cutout divider between the kitchen and the dining room. But the smells of waffles and bacon, which would ordinarily tempt Miranda, barely registered as she sat beside her mother on one of the tall, ladder-back stools.
“Morning, honey,” Mae said, plunking a white ceramic mug on the counter in front of Miranda. Hot, black coffee swirled into it, steam rising. “What can I get for you?”
“Coffee’s fine,” Miranda said. She laid the flyers on the counter.
“Now, you’re going to need more than coffee if you’re going to keep up your strength,” Mae scolded. “Just ask your momma. I’ll have Zane whip up some eggs and hash browns for you. It’ll only take a minute.” She bustled away.
“Are you all right, Mom?” Miranda eyeballed Paige’s plate, which contained the better part of a waffle, the maple syrup congealed around it. “You need to eat, too.”
“That’s what I told her,” Tori said. Her own plate had the leavings of biscuits and gravy. She pushed it away. “Guess I’m not all that hungry, either.”
Paige shoved a hand through her black hair. It looked as if she’d barely bothered to comb it. “I can’t eat.” She reached for one of the flyers. “You did a good job on these. I sure hope they help bring Shannon home. I saw Garrett a few minutes ago, and he said dispatch was getting quite a few calls already, but none of them have panned out.”
“What kind of calls?” Miranda asked.
“Well, one guy claimed he’d seen Shannon walking with Jesus on a lake in Minnesota.” She let out a snort. “Does that tell you what sort of tips they’re getting?”
“Maybe so, but one of them will pay off eventually. You’ll see.” Miranda spoke with a confidence she didn’t really feel.
“I’ll put up some flyers in the windows,” Mae said, as she passed by on her way to the kitchen.
“Leave us a stack of them, honey,” Fae added. “We’ll give them to some of the truckers running regular routes through the area. Maybe they can hang them up here and there—just in case.”
“Thanks,” Miranda said, dividing the flyers.
“Good morning, ladies.”
Miranda turned to see Kyle standing at her elbow. He wore faded jeans and a T-shirt, his brown hair mostly hidden beneath his ball cap.
“Hi, Kyle. How’s Blackhawk?”
“Raring to go, as usual. Have you got plans for continuing the search today?”
Miranda nodded. “I think everyone’s pretty much going to keep combing the areas we’ve partially covered.” She indicated Paige and Tori. “We’re going to post some flyers around town, then head out and look some more.”
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