Chapter 11
While Josh drove to Rock Hill, Maggie kept Zoey occupied in the back seat. They drew pictures, assembled puzzles, and played
tic-tac-toe and I Spy. Maggie had packed an entertainment arsenal fit for a little princess. She was such a good mom.
It was Maggie who fidgeted, at turns biting her nails and checking her watch. He understood her nerves. As much as he’d wished
the whole week away, now that the day had arrived, his anxiety swelled like a wave.
He’d given a lot of thought to this field trip. It could go one of four ways: They wouldn’t find Rocky and would go home empty-handed;
they would locate Rocky and he’d have no definitive answers; they’d track down Rocky only to confirm Ethan really had died
five years ago; or they’d find Rocky and learn Ethan was still alive.
The first and second would end with no answers and disappointment. The third would dash hopes that had swelled over the past
nine days despite their best intentions. The fourth and least likely scenario would be a miracle of epic proportions.
At most, there was a one-quarter chance this trip would end well. He didn’t love those odds. They needed to resolve this perplexing mystery, but he didn’t relish the thought of dragging Maggie back into that vortex of grief—or going there himself. Part of him wished she’d never seen that man at the carnival. But the slim hope that Ethan might still be alive carried him past that fleeting regret.
Come what may, he was glad he was here for her. Having Zoey along might prove tricky. They’d told the girl they were visiting
a friend.
Josh turned and caught Maggie’s gaze in the rearview mirror. Hope battled fear in the depths of her eyes. He knew just how
she felt. He wished he could wrap his arm around her and tell her it was going to be okay. He settled for a wink.
***
“Your destination is on the right,” the GPS announced. “Fourteen forty-four Cherry Road.”
Maggie checked the visor mirror as Josh pulled the rental car into a parking lot. She smoothed her hair and added a bit of
lip gloss. She’d worn a comfortable pair of jeans and a nice summer top with flutter sleeves. She was probably thinking too
hard, but she wanted to appear decent and trustworthy.
Josh turned into the one open parking spot at the front of the building. Cindy’s House Diner was aptly named since the restaurant
was located in an old brick house.
Only two diners were open today, and they’d started here because it closed at one. “This place must be popular with the church
crowd.”
“Apparently so.”
Maggie checked the back seat and her spirits flagged. “She fell asleep.”
“Want me to carry her in?”
“She’ll likely wake up and then she’ll be grumpy all afternoon.”
“I can go in alone then.”
Maggie stared at the neon Open sign in the window. “I’ll go.” She opened the door and stepped out into the southern heat.
“Wish me luck.”
“You’ve got this.”
She didn’t feel like she had it. Her legs trembled as she approached the door. A man in farmer’s apparel exited, holding the
door for her. “Thank you.”
As she stepped inside, the smell of frying bacon and stiff coffee assaulted her. A diner-style bar extended the length of
the wood-paneled room, seating at least a dozen customers on swivel stools. Two middle-aged servers bustled behind the bar,
pouring coffee, swiping empty plates, and hanging orders as if their movements were choreographed.
Maggie moved straight to the register and within seconds one of the servers called over, “Just grab a seat wherever you can
find one, hon. Someone’ll be with you in a minute.”
“Oh, I’m not staying. I was wondering if I could talk to the owner real quick.”
The server leaned into the kitchen. “Cindy, you’re wanted up front.” She grabbed two full plates from under the heat lamp.
“She’ll be right with ya.”
“Thank you.” Maggie reviewed the script in her head and prayed for the hundredth time that they’d get the answers they needed.
Moments later a woman swept through the kitchen door. She was a bit older than Maggie and wore her blonde hair in a low ponytail.
A smile lit her face with warmth as she approached the register. “Hi, I’m Cindy. What can I do for you?”
“Sorry to bother you in the middle of your lunch rush.”
“No worries.”
“My name’s Maggie Reynolds. I’m looking for an Army friend of my husband’s—he went by the name of Rocky. His parents own a
diner here in town—”
Cindy shook her head. “That’s not us, if that’s what you’re asking. Sorry. My husband and I own this place and our kids are
only in high school.”
Maggie propped up her smile. “Would you happen to know the family I’m looking for? It’s really important that we find Rocky.”
Lines formed between Cindy’s brows. “I mean, it’s a small town, but it’s not that small. Can’t be the Roswells—they own the
Breakfast Bunch south of town. They only have two daughters. Beyond that I really couldn’t say.”
One of the servers passed by. “Cindy, can you make some more decaf when you get a chance?”
“Sure thing.” The owner stepped back with a parting smile. “Sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”
“That’s okay. Thank you for taking the time.” Maggie’s hopes flagged as she exited the restaurant. The Breakfast Bunch wasn’t
open today anyway, and now they could cross that off their list. That was a little progress at least.