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“What flavor ice cream do you want?”
“Pineapple,” she said decisively.
“They might not have pineapple ice cream. We’ll just have to see. Did you finish your sandwich?”
She held up what was left of the half sandwich Elena had made for her. She’d eaten a few bites, at least. At her foster home, MacKenzie had developed the unfortunate habit of hoarding food. She seldom ate very much, choosing instead to save her food for later. No matter how many times Eric reassured her that she could eat as much as she wanted, she obviously was still fearful about going hungry.
“I’m going to have dinner at the diner before my ice cream,” he said. “How about you?”
“Do they have grilled cheese?”
“I imagine so. Maybe soup, too.” She loved soup, and it wasn’t something she could hoard.
The momentous decision of what to choose for dinner occupied her until they crossed the city limits of the great metropolis of Tuckerville.
It was a little bigger than he’d expected, with a quaint main street boasting old-fashioned streetlights, a theater showing last year’s movies, an antiques mall and a quilt shop. Most everything except the theater was closed, the sidewalks deserted. Then he spotted the Home Cookin’ Café, right where Bree had said it would be, at the corner of Main and Maple.
The café was like something out of an old movie, all chrome and rounded corners and an Art Deco neon sign advertising Shakes, Malts and Sodas. He wondered if it was the real thing or someone’s retro fantasy.
He pulled into the small parking lot, which was nearly full. Clearly the place was doing a brisk business.
MacKenzie was more than ready to be released from the confines of her child seat.
“What is this place?” MacKenzie asked.
“It’s a diner. Or a café. Have you ever been to one?”
“Is it like McDonald’s?”
“Sort of. But they serve the food on real dishes and they bring it to your table.”
“Oh, like Little Italy?” Little Italy was a neighborhood restaurant that Travis and Elena had introduced them to. It hadn’t been open when Eric had lived in the neighborhood, before Tammy’s death. Funny, that was how he thought of his life now, in three distinct segments: Before Tammy’s Murder, Prison and After Prison.
“You’ll see what it’s like.”
She grabbed on to Eric’s hand. New situations and new people made her nervous. No, more than nervous. Really stressed.
“Will there be people there?”
“Yes. We’re going to meet a nice lady named Bree. You’ll like her.”
“No, I won’t,” she said decisively.
Eric didn’t challenge her. He couldn’t make her like people and she certainly knew that not all adults were worthy of her esteem. Eric himself wasn’t sure he liked Bree—although he was looking forward to seeing her again. She wasn’t exactly all sweetness and light, and clearly she had a sharp tongue when she had a mind to use it. But he admired her passion. Passion was attractive, even if it was for a cause he didn’t agree with.
Eric and MacKenzie entered the diner and stood next to a please-wait-to-be-seated sign. The place was busy, but there were still a few tables and booths available.
A hostess with a mile-high beehive greeted them, fitting right in with the retro theme. “Two for dinner?” she asked brightly.
“Actually, I’m meeting someone here. Her name is Bree. About so high, black hair, blue eyes you can’t miss—”
The hostess was nodding. “That’s Dr. Bree.”
“And a friend of hers, too. They’re not here yet, are they?” He scanned the whole seating area and didn’t see Bree, and she wasn’t the sort of woman easily overlooked.
“No, haven’t seen her, but I’ll keep an eye out. Come right this way.”
Eric started to follow the hostess, whose name tag identified her as Molly, but MacKenzie suddenly dug in her heels and wouldn’t move.
“No, Daddy, let’s go home.”
“What? We just got here.”
“I don’t want to meet the lady! I want to go home!”
CHAPTER THREE
ERIC PRAYED MACKENZIE wasn’t about to throw one of her fits. “Why don’t you want to stay here?”
“I just don’t.”
“Well, we came a long way, and I’m hungry, and we’re not leaving until I get some dinner. Don’t you want your grilled cheese? And ice cream?” He knew bribing a child with food wasn’t the recommended way to get her to cooperate, but he didn’t want to risk a tantrum, not now.
“I’m not hungry. I want to go home.”
“I’m sorry, MacKenzie, we can’t go home right now. Daddy promised to be here, and I have to keep my word.”
“You want a coloring book, precious?” Molly asked. “I have Goofy and Cinderella.”
MacKenzie pressed her lips together in a mutinous frown.
“Go with Cinderella,” Eric said to the hostess. Then he scooped up MacKenzie and carried her to their designated booth. He would lie down and die any day of the week for this child. But the psychologist had emphasized that he had to be firm, too, and not let her walk all over him. Just because she was troubled didn’t mean she couldn’t also learn to be manipulative.
Once they were seated, he tried to get MacKenzie interested in the menu. She was a good enough reader that she could make out a lot of the words by herself.
“It says this diner has been here for more than sixty years,” Eric read, pointing to the words. That answered his question about whether it was authentic.
MacKenzie didn’t seem interested. She kept looking over her shoulder, as if she expected the bogeyman to be after her.
“MacKenzie, what’s wrong? What are you afraid of?”
“I don’t want a shot!” she said, bursting into tears.
“A shot? What makes you think... Oh.” Dr. Bree. “She’s not going to give you a shot. She’s just a nice lady.” A nice lady who was late. If he’d driven all this way for nothing, he was going to be more than irritated.
“No shots?”
“No. Just dinner. It says here they have a soup-and-sandwich special. How about a grilled cheese and tomato soup?”
After thinking about it, MacKenzie nodded.
A couple of minutes later Bree bustled through the door, looking a bit harried. Molly smiled at her and pointed toward their booth, and Bree hurried their way, waving as she caught Eric’s eye.
The sight of her had a stronger effect than he’d anticipated. She had her hair pulled back in a ponytail now, and several unruly strands had escaped to frame her face. She’d changed clothes since this morning, opting for a simple white blouse and gray pants. Again, he could tell at a glance that the clothes were high quality. Could a woman even buy clothes like that in Tuckerville?
Didn’t matter. The sight of her made his mouth go dry. He couldn’t recall reacting that strongly to a woman since...well, since Tammy. Tammy, the supposed love of his life, who’d turned out to be aggressively unfaithful.
You can’t trust a sweet smile. Bree had already proved she had a sharp side. During their very first meeting, no less.
“I’m so sorry I’m late,” she said as she slid into the booth opposite them. “I got held up at work. I hope you haven’t been waiting too long.”
“Just a couple of minutes.”
Then Bree’s attention focused on MacKenzie, and her face was transformed with a look of such sweet maternal softness that Eric found himself struggling to breathe.
“And who have we here?” Bree asked.
MacKenzie ignored her.
“This is my daughter, MacKenzie,” Eric said. “MacKenzie, this is Dr. Johnson.”
“Hi, MacKenzie. You can call me Bree.” Her voice was soft, nonprovoking. “Nice to meet you.”
MacKenzie kept her eyes on her coloring book, where she was filling in Cinderella’s dress with a brown crayon.
“Is that Cinderella?” Bree asked.
“Mmm-hmm,” MacKenzie replied.
“You’re good at coloring. You really know how to stay inside the lines. Me, when I color, I’m really messy. I bet you get gold stars in your art class.”
“I get all As,” MacKenzie said matter-of-factly.
“Where’s Philomene?” Eric asked. “I’d like to move this along so I don’t keep MacKenzie out too late.”
“Of course.” Bree looked around. “I’ll go ask if she’s here. If the waitress comes, order me a meat loaf special and a coffee.”
“Caffeine doesn’t bother you this late at night?”
“Unfortunately, no. If it did, maybe I wouldn’t drink so much of the stuff.” She slid out of the booth and headed for Molly. Eric studied her retreating form at leisure, especially those gently swaying hips.
MacKenzie was staring, too.
“See, she’s not so scary,” Eric said.
MacKenzie shrugged and turned her attention to the menu. “I don’t see ice cream on here.”
Eric flipped the pages until he found desserts. “Right here. Chocolate, vanilla and strawberry.”
She put her finger on the menu where Eric had pointed and attempted to sound out the words. The waitress stopped back, and Eric dutifully ordered Bree’s meat loaf special. “I’ll have the same thing,” he added. “And a grilled cheese and tomato soup for the little one.”
“You want a soda with that?” the perky waitress asked.
MacKenzie nodded, but Eric shook his head. “Milk.” Bree might not be bothered by caffeine, but it made MacKenzie spin like a top.
As soon as the waitress left, Bree returned, a worried frown on her face. “Philomene’s not here. She should have gotten off work at six.”
“Maybe she got held up.”
“Maybe. But wouldn’t she call?”
“You’re asking me? I’ve never met this woman.”
“She should have called,” Bree said decisively.
Eric stifled a groan. He should have known this was a fool’s errand. “Sounds like maybe she had a change of heart.”
“When I talked to her yesterday, she sounded really eager to unburden herself. The guilt has been eating her alive.”
“You said she was nervous about changing her story. She probably just got cold feet.”
“I hope that’s all it is.” Bree already had her phone in her hand. “I’ll call her and see what’s what.”
The waitress brought MacKenzie’s milk and Bree’s coffee. Bree took a healthy gulp of the stuff, black, while waiting for Philomene to pick up.
“Hi, Philomene, it’s me, Bree,” she said after a few moments. “I’m at the diner with Eric Riggs from Project Justice. Please call me when you get a chance.” She was still frowning as she hung up.
“Look, Daddy, I finished.” MacKenzie displayed her coloring work. Although the colors were a little drab, she’d kept within the lines in her usual meticulous fashion.
“Very nice, sweetheart.”
Cautiously, she turned the page around and slid it toward Bree.
Bree smiled, and again her face was transformed.
She ought to smile more often, Eric thought.
“Very good work, MacKenzie. I think I might have something here...” She dug into her purse. “I do. Would you like a glitter heart or a gold star?”
“Heart, heart heart heart!”
Eric was touched. Had Bree put those stickers in her purse just for MacKenzie? Or... “You must have kids.”
A stark sadness flashed across Bree’s face before she masked it. “No, no kids. But I keep a few things on hand for children who come through the E.R.”
“So emergency medicine is your specialty?” She’d said earlier today that she’d met Philomene in the E.R., but he wanted to keep her talking about herself.
“Yes. I work at the county hospital.”
