Breakfast at the Honey Creek Café

by Jodi Thomas

  Pecos had grown up knowing who the Lanes were. Kerrie was an only child of the man who owned Lane Flooring and Carpeting. Since it was the only one in town, he got all the business. Her mother ran all kinds of societies and fund-raisers.

  It seemed like the Lanes had everything. It made no sense that Kerrie would cry. Only she had and he’d been the one she turned to.

  Kerrie’s mother stood on the patio smiling as they neared. Luckily, she didn’t seem to mind that her only child was attached to him.

  “Everyone! Everyone! Our baby will be graduating tomorrow afternoon. Thank you all for coming to help her celebrate a milestone in her life.”

  The hired-for-the-night kitchen staff of five in their bow ties and white aprons were passing out champagne in tall, thin glasses.

  Kerrie’s dad raised his glass. “To our Kerrie.”

  Everyone wished her a glowing future as they surrounded her. In the crowd, he lost her hand. Then, he lost sight of her.

  Pecos just stood there holding his glass. Not drinking. Just waiting. This might be the shortest time anyone in the history of the world ever had a girlfriend. He backed away and stood in the shadows, watching and waiting.

  When he finally set the glass down, still full of the first and only time he’d probably ever get the chance to taste champagne, he didn’t feel much like celebrating.

  He told himself that someday, when he was rich, he’d buy a case, have it shipped all the way from France, and drink it all. But Kerrie was lost in the crowd and had forgotten where she’d left him.

  “Well, hello, Mr. Smith,” a very formal, low voice said from behind him.

  Turning, Pecos smiled. “Hi, Mr. Winston. I didn’t see you among all the guests.”

  “Oh, no, no, I’m not a guest. I just live down the block and when I saw so many people parking up and down the street and heading this way, I figured the Lanes wouldn’t notice one more guest. I’m the party crasher, you see. All the best parties have at least one.”

  “I’m the boyfriend, or I was for a minute or two. I’ll probably never see Kerrie again.”

  Mr. Winston laughed. “Follow me. I’ve crashed enough parties here to know the lay of the land.”

  They slipped through a side door into a game room with a bar. Mr. Winston picked up a handful of nuts from the bar as they passed, then Pecos followed the old guy up half a staircase to a kind of balcony that looked over a huge living room. Everything below was either glass or leather.

  Kerrie was sitting on the floor opening presents. With each gift a few of the guests drifted away. She was almost finished when a scream came from the pool followed by a splash. Everyone headed out through the patio doors, leaving Kerrie alone with wrapping paper all around her.

  Mr. Winston motioned for Pecos to follow and they walked down another half stairs into the living room.

  “You got some great stuff.” Pecos picked up one of half a dozen pen and pencil sets.

  “And to think, all I wanted was a stuffed armadillo,” she answered.

  He offered his hand and helped her stand. “I was going to walk Mr. Winston home. There are not many streetlights around his place. You want to go with me?”

  “I’d love to.”

  Mr. Winston talked all the way to his house with Pecos and Kerry on either side of him.

  Afterward, when they were on their way back, Pecos asked, “Am I still your boyfriend?”

  “You are.”

  “Want to tell me why?”

  She squeezed his hand. “Does it matter?”

  “No.” Pecos shortened his steps to match hers. If she was just using him for some reason, he didn’t care. He was a willing sacrifice.

  Laughing, she whispered, “You’re kind, Pecos. You always have been. Like walking old Mr. Winston home when no one else thought of it. All my life I’ve seen you do kind things. You gave your milk money to a kid who’d lost his. You’re always hauling band equipment for free. You talk to kids that no one talks to.”

  He thought of mentioning that he didn’t much like milk and that he felt part of something when he helped the band and he’d talk to anyone who’d talk to him. But he decided to keep quiet.

  They didn’t go back to the party. She drove him to his pickup as they talked about the next day. When he mentioned that he wasn’t sure he was going to graduation, she made him promise that he would.

  When she pulled up beside his pickup, he thought of leaning over and kissing her, but this was too new. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said as he stepped out of her car.

  “After the ceremony, I’ll find you.” Kerrie waved and was already pulling away when he closed the car door.

  Chapter 11

  Late Saturday night

  Colby

  The highway patrolman turned investigator had been in the shadows behind his cabin for twenty minutes waiting for the mayor to show up with her boat. Colby had a dozen things he’d found out about her missing person’s case, and a few of them she might not know. He’d hoped to tell her in the light so he could study her face.

  He’d noticed that her green eyes darkened when she went on alert, which was pretty much every time she saw him. Everything she was thinking flashed in those eyes, even when she thought of clobbering him. But it was too risky for them to be friendly this early. For all he knew she was in on this almost crime.

  She’d mentioned that Boone might be doing his disappearing act to draw attention. Maybe just claiming he was engaged to Piper hadn’t been enough.

  From the things she’d said, Colby sensed that Boone had wanted the press to think that they were more than friends. Or maybe it was all some sort of plan to gain control over Piper. It occurred to Colby that if Boone could influence Piper, he might also be able to influence her father. A senator is far more powerful than a mayor.

  But Colby’s guess was that Piper was a woman that no man would ever control. She saw right through Boone Buchanan.

  Colby figured most politicians play games of control, but Boone wasn’t a politician, he was a lawyer. Piper hadn’t publicly denied the lie about Boone and her being engaged. For all he knew, maybe she was in on this deception.

  Colby rejected that thought. Every cell in his body told him she wouldn’t be involved in this mystery.

  A man driving his BMW into the river wasn’t a crime. Maybe the sheriff had picked up Boone and they’d decided to go south for a long weekend. The guys he’d met at the bar seemed to think Sheriff LeRoy Hayes was vanishing more and more lately. Maybe he had a lady friend or maybe he was fishing. He’d never been a great sheriff, and now he was slipping.

  Several people said that Hayes didn’t keep regular hours. He was known to not come into the office until midmorning, and work the midnight shift just to pester the dispatcher. He even claimed having regular hours only benefits the criminals. Now that he was a short-timer, maybe he was becoming more erratic.

  Boone had been missing four days now. Lawyers like Boone, who had a court schedule, would at least need to call in. One of the Jeffs told Colby that earlier, on the night his car took a swim, Boone had been seen in Bandit’s Bar over in Someday Valley. The wide spot in the road about thirty minutes away wasn’t more than a cluster of trailer parks and bars. Locals in Honey Creek claimed even rats didn’t hang around the town.

  Why would a rich lawyer be there?

  Witnesses, who were probably drunk and not too reliable, reported seeing him drinking with a tall woman. He wasn’t drunk and the woman wasn’t Piper. She left and he had two more drinks, they reported.

  A couple celebrating their two-week anniversary in the parking lot claimed a man who was about Boone’s build cussed all the way from the bar door to his fancy car. The lovers claimed they would have confronted him for ruining their date, but he was gone before they could get their clothes on.

  The accounts of his activity pretty much blew the theory of carnapping. Colby had heard other theories whispered around, but they were all simply guesses.

 
For the most part, Colby couldn’t believe how great what the mayor had called his dumb cover story had worked so far. Every store he went in wanted him to court the mayor. From the mechanics in the garage where he bought an old Harley, to the ladies having tea at the bakery, everyone agreed. Their mayor needed a man in her life, but it had to be the right man.

  One farmer downing coffee at the town’s only coffee shop stared at Colby and felt the need to add a comment. “You’re a good-looking guy, but you ain’t her quality. Our mayor needs a partner, not a pet.”

  Colby growled at him and the old guy growled back.

  Piper Mackenzie was wonderful, everyone told him. One of the best mayors the town had ever had. Some said even better than her grandfather. She worked late at night and weekends, and she cared.

  They also agreed Boone Buchanan was not good enough for her. Though most had never seen the guy, they read the papers. He was nothing but a gold digger, a playboy. Boone could see how she shined and he wanted to ride on her coattails.

  One lady in the bakery said everyone knew Piper would someday be governor. She needed a man who’d support her goals. Someone smart enough to always be good to her.

  Another lady eating her second éclair pointed her pastry at Colby and said she didn’t know if this one, meaning Colby, was smart enough to marry Piper either. Most men who drove a motorcycle had scrambled their brains at least once.

  To his disappointment, the éclair eater’s friends agreed.

  As the day passed, he’d visited every business, sat on half the benches on the square, and bought things he didn’t need in shops. Colby slowly became one of them. He listened to the stories about the early days in Honey Creek and how the local football team almost won state last year.

  Finally, an hour into talking with the boys at the bar, who’d all done research for him, Colby turned the tables on them and began to ask questions.

  He slowly put the pieces together. Piper, Boone, and the sheriff.

  Sheriff Hayes was easy. The guy had been a lawman too long. He’d be retirement age before the next election rolled around, and no one expected him to run for another term. Most didn’t like him much, but they’d voted for him. He reminded Colby of that old saying that the devil you know is better than the devil you don’t.

  The sheriff never took bribes or roughed up a suspect. In fact, as far as Colby could tell, the man had gone his entire career without ever pulling his service weapon.

  But something about Hayes wasn’t right. The first twenty years in office he’d been married and done his job. After his wife died, he started sleeping around and drinking. Some said he even slept with Daisy the dispatcher before she went on the walker. Then, in his late fifties he cleaned up his act. No wild nights. No heavy drinking. Of course of late he had been disappearing at odd times.

  A bartender at the Pint and Pie who overheard them talking said he’d seen Boone Buchanan last month. Said Boone had been coming through Honey Creek headed somewhere west for several months. He’d stop by for a few six-packs and a large pizza. There was a high-stakes poker game the first Wednesday of every month at a ranch farther down the valley. Word was Boone never missed it. Several months ago, he’d gotten friendly with one of the waitresses when he’d stopped by late one night.

  She said he was easily forgettable except for one fact. He’d bragged that he was dating Piper. She also said he mentioned he’d lost at poker that night but he still had money to burn. The waitress and Boone must have not hit it off because lately all he dropped in for was beer and pizza now and then.

  He guessed that Boone was at the poker game for some reason other than gambling. He was playing a game, but it didn’t involve cards. Boone probably thought he was the hunter but he might find he was the game.

  Colby checked his watch as he waited for Piper, listening for a boat. He hated people who couldn’t be on time. The mayor was now thirty minutes late. He’d sworn when he got out of college almost a dozen years ago that he’d never marry a woman who couldn’t read a clock.

  That might explain why he was still single.

  The low rumble of an engine echoed through the trees near the dark river.

  He slowly looked around, trying to see through the moonless night. Limbs of hundred-year-old trees bent over into the water. Dusky-purple brush grew almost as high as a man in places, and the lazy breeze made all the foliage move like an ink drawing floating around him.

  A splash sounded from ten feet away. The wet scrape against the wet grass and river rocks sounded like a boat being pulled to shore. Then, the outline of a woman dressed in black materialized.

  As she walked toward him, he could see her outline in silhouette. Perfection without the boxy jacket. Now he had two things to admire about her, but she’d probably fire him if he mentioned either her eyes or her body. Her black shirt and tight black slacks made him aware of her every curve.

  When she was three feet away, he whispered, “About time you showed up, PJ. We don’t have any time to lose if you want this solved.”

  She shrugged as if she couldn’t care less that she’d kept him waiting. “I guess my love-sick cowboy didn’t show up tonight. The trooper is back.”

  “The cowboy is just an act, Mayor, nothing more. My dumb cover story, remember. I spent a few weekends trying to win money riding bulls. That doesn’t make me a cowboy. Don’t get the pretender mixed up with me.”

  “I agree. All business between us, nothing more, but you did give me a laugh when you winked at me on the street. A dozen people saw you pat your heart. A little corny, don’t you think?”

  “How about we head downstream?” He didn’t have time for small talk. “You can critique my performance later.”

  She turned and headed back toward the water. “You can tell me what you learned as we drift with the current.”

  Without a word, he walked beside her down to the tiny boat, pulling branches out of her way as he moved. Once she slipped on the wet grass and he caught her by the arm. She didn’t bother to thank him.

  She lifted a paddle to use as a rudder to guide them in the current. When she climbed in, he pushed the boat away from the shore and they slipped into the river as silently as a tree branch migrating south.

  They sat so close their knees were touching. Colby told himself to think of her as just a job, not a woman, but it wasn’t easy when she was so close. Even in the darkness he could feel her nearness.

  “Fill me in,” she ordered, removing any hint left that he was attracted to her. “What did you learn?”

  Colby watched the banks, making sure no one saw them pass.

  “Your boyfriend was two-timing you with a waitress who works over at Pint and Pie. It seems that Boone was also friendly with some woman thirty miles down the road in Someday Valley.”

  “I know about that first part. That waitress and I were friends in grade school. She felt guilty, so she came and told me about how he hit on her several months back. When I explained I wasn’t interested in Boone, she got mad that he lied. Claimed she’d spill a drink on him the next time he came in at the Pint and Pie.” Piper lowered her voice. “What’s next?”

  Colby moved on. “You know about the sheriff’s odd hours?”

  “Everyone knows about his weird habits. He’ll disappear for an hour, then pop up again and claim he didn’t hear his phone.”

  “Do you think the sheriff and Boone are together somewhere, or it’s just coincidence that they both disappeared the same night?”

  “It might just be. They don’t seem to move in the same galaxy, much less the same circle. I’d be surprised if they even knew each other.”

  “I can think of a few things they have in common.”

  “What?”

  “They both disappeared on the same night. Both drank. They both know you.” He began to recognize the terrain. One more bend and they’d be where Boone’s car had been found.

  Colby pointed to the left bank. “That’s where they found footprints. Not sure it was
Boone. One, the car could have drifted some and two . . .”

  “The fresh prints were tennis shoes?” She finished his sentence. Another thing he hated about her.

  “Right, Mayor. Only in the report, the investigator added that they were cheap rubber soles. Your boyfriend wouldn’t be wearing anything cheap.”

  “So you think someone else was driving Boone’s car?”

  “Maybe. Or someone else could have been out there watching when the BMW hit the water. Whoever was standing on the bank saw the car floating and didn’t want to get involved.” Colby stared at the darkened bank that he’d examined completely before sunset.

  “If there was someone watching, or involved in some way, he might know if Boone was driving, or if he went under, or if he swam away?”

  “I’m leaning toward the person watching more than your rich boyfriend buying cheap shoes. I found a beer can about five feet away from the bank beneath a barberry bush. It was half-full, which suggests to me that someone was watching when the accident happened. Or Boone climbed out of his BMW, swam to shore, and stopped for a drink before he walked off.”

  Piper huffed. “I don’t care what he did. I just want to know where he is. Every day the press makes it a bigger story. One account claimed I was pregnant and killed him because he was two-timing me.”

  For a few minutes they just drifted. Colby figured she was thinking of her career, and in truth his future was on his mind as well. If he could find Boone, crime or not, her brother, Max Mackenzie, would remember him. All his life he’d dreamed of being a Texas Ranger. He loved being a trooper for the Texas Highway Patrol, but he wanted the Ranger badges. Few people know that when troopers are promoted into the Ranger Service they’re given two badges—a silver badge made from a Mexican coin and a bronze, silver-plated badge to carry in their identification case.

  “You thinking of catching the bad guys, Trooper?” Piper’s sexy voice drifted through the night just to bother him. “Maybe Boone and the sheriff are dope smugglers. You might get the chance to shoot one . . . in the leg, of course.”