The Valley and the Flood by Rebecca Mahoney (10 best books of all time TXT) 📗

hand at him, eyes still on the screen. “There’s a four fifteen?”

“Sure, if you want to give her five minutes.” Felix thinks on that for a moment, then looks up at me. “Do you need more than five minutes?”

Alex looks up at Cassie. “Is this urgent?”

“Mm . . .” Cassie hesitates. “Why don’t you tell me?”

Slowly, I see that same sense of understanding cross Alex Harper’s face. He hides it better than Deputy Jay did. But it’s there nonetheless.

“Ms. . . .” he says, turning to me.

“Colter,” I say, my throat suddenly dry.

“Ms. Colter,” he says. “Could you stay exactly where you are, just for a second? Try not to move.”

It’s a simple enough request. I almost say no, if only out of sheer frustration. But something in Alex’s voice keeps me still.

He moves to the edge of his seat and cranes his neck, as if looking just past me. And though his expression doesn’t change, his eyes widen.

“Felix,” he says, with the kind of excruciating, deliberate calm that I know by heart at this point. “Call Ms. Jones. Tell her that she needs to get back here as soon as she can. We’re starting.”

Felix looks like he’s about to ask—until he gets a good look at Alex’s face. And in the next second, he’s on the phone.

With a slightly shaking hand, Alex pulls out a Post-it note and slides it across the table to me. “Could you write down your number for us? We’ll have more information soon.” He pauses. “And if you could listen for that call . . .”

There’s blood thundering in my ears as I scrawl my number. Behind the desk, Felix hands the phone to Alex.

“Should we call Mayor Williams?” Alex says, his voice low.

“Don’t bother,” Felix mutters. “She’ll know soon enough.”

It takes a moment for me to realize that Cassie is guiding me away from the desk.

“Come on,” she says.

I look over my shoulder at her. “What’s going on?”

“Right at this very moment?” She shrugs. “We just got some time to kill. And I still want that milk shake.”

—

THE BELL RINGS as Cassie sweeps into the Sweet as Pie Diner, and in one smooth motion, every head in the place pops up.

There wasn’t much conversation to begin with—as packed as it is, everyone in the place seems to be dining alone—but when I step past Cassie and into their full view, the clinking forks stop. A few gazes widen as they sweep across me. This time, I’m sure it’s not my imagination.

A waitress in a peach uniform eyes us from behind the counter. “Cassie,” she says slowly.

“It’s okay.” Cassie’s own voice is firm, calm. “We’ll take a corner booth, please.”

“Cassandra.” A man in a tan suit stands up from his chair—my fingers twitch as it scrapes across the floor. “You know better than anyone—”

“I’ve made it very clear where I stand.” Cassie chirps. But there’s a chill in her voice. “I’m sorry if that disappoints any of you.”

A mutter runs through the diner like a current. Four others stand from their tables, swinging their coats over their shoulders as they make for the door.

“Fellas,” says the waitress flatly.

The men freeze by the door. And then, sheepishly, dig wallets from their pockets and double back to the tables. “Sorry, Adrienne,” one mutters as he passes.

“Who raised those boys, I don’t know,” Adrienne says. “Corner booth, you said?”

She leads us to a table in the glow of the neon sign, which casts the menus in a shade of icy blue. I almost don’t follow. Gaby wouldn’t have followed.

But Gaby also used to say that I’d give up a kidney if it was the polite thing to do. And Gaby was, as usual, excruciatingly right.

I slide into the vinyl bench with my back to the wall. The diner’s long, like a train car, with one front entrance, one back. Not the worst odds, if I can get to them.

I settle out of sight of the other patrons. And slowly, I hear forks begin to clink again.

“What can I get you?” Adrienne asks.

“The usual, please—with whipped cream and two cherries.” Cassie turns to me. “Do you want any pie? You have to try the blueberry mint. My treat.”

“No,” I say to my lap. “Thank you.”

“Let’s order a slice anyway,” she says to Adrienne. “I’ll eat it if she doesn’t.”

With a curt nod, Adrienne disappears toward the kitchen.

As I glance up, Cassie flashes a thin smile. “Now. Why don’t you start by telling me what you brought with you?”

“What I . . .” Instinctively, I look over at my backpack on the bench next to me. “You’re looking at it.”

“What followed you here, then?” she says, unfazed.

“Nothing,” I say. “I came here alone.”

“You really didn’t notice anything?” she asks. “Anything strange or different.”

“Who was that kid back at the sheriff’s office?” I say. “Because you didn’t bring me to him to talk about an appointment.”

“Rose,” Cassie says, “it’s not like I want to pressure you or anything, but I’d really appreciate it if you could focus.”

“What is going on?” I say. “Why is everyone acting like they know what I’m doing here?”

“Because we know what you’re doing here.” Cassie narrows her eyes. “You’re serious. You really didn’t notice anything, did you?”

Now I’m the one who ignores the question. “Who are you? Where did you hear the name Nick Lansbury?”

She opens her mouth to respond, but before she can get there, Adrienne swings by with the strawberry milk shake and the slice of pie. Cassie looks away long enough to nod and smile, and as she pulls the glass toward herself, she slides the plate toward me.

“I think we might be talking past each other here,” she says with a contrite smile.

I don’t return the gesture. But I nod.

“So why don’t you answer a few of my questions first?” she says. “And then I’ll tell you as much as I know.”

“Why do you have to ask?” I say. “Seems like you know everything about me.”

“Nobody knows everything about anyone,” she says with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Now. You said