CHAPTER EIGHT
Evening had softened the heat but hadn’t broken it.
Selena drove through Elmsview with the window cracked, letting warm air move through the car in restless little pushes.
The sun still hung above the rooftops, lower now, turning storefront glass amber and throwing long shadows across the road.
Pavement shimmered where the day had stored its heat.
Somewhere on a side street, a sprinkler ticked over a lawn in dry bursts.
Hank’s Red-Hot Diner sat near the bend where Main Street gave way to the older part of town.
The sign above the roof line glowed red against the fading sky, the same chili pepper shape curved around the letters, the same bad joke of a name that had embarrassed half the teenagers in Elmsview and fed the other half every Friday night. Selena slowed as she turned into the parking lot.
For a moment, she did not shut off the engine.
The diner had meant something once. More than burgers, fries, and milkshakes too sweet to finish.
It had been the place they came after football games, after school dances, after nights when nobody wanted to go home yet.
Selena, Connor, and Jessie had occupied the same booth by the window so often that Hank used to pretend he charged them rent.
Connor’s message waited on her phone.
Meet me at Hank’s. We can compare notes. 7.
She had read it an hour ago.
Now she read it again.
She understood why he’d chosen this place.
Connor knew what it had been to them. Maybe he had chosen it because of that. Maybe he had not thought about it at all.
Selena locked the car and crossed the lot.
The front window showed red vinyl booths, chrome table edges, and a row of stools at the counter.
A family sat near the back, two children leaning over baskets of fries.
An older man read the local paper by himself.
The place looked smaller than memory had allowed, but the neon signs on the walls and the checked floor still pulled a younger version of her close.
The door opened with the same bell.
From behind the counter, Hank Duggan turned at the sound.
Age had widened him and softened some of the old angles, but he was unmistakable. White hair lay thin across his scalp, and his left leg still dragged by half a beat when he moved. His face had deepened into folds around the mouth and eyes, built for laughter even when he was not using it.
For two seconds, he stared.
Then his grin arrived all at once.
“Well, look what the road dragged back.” Hank came around the counter, wiping his hands on a towel. “Selena Raven.”
“Hi, Hank.”
He opened his arms, then paused as if remembering she might not be a hugger. Selena solved it by stepping in. Hank’s embrace was warm and brief.
“Good to see you back, Jessie,” he said, using the wrong name. “Didn’t think I’d see you again after you solved that Pruitt business.”
Selena leaned back and lifted one eyebrow.
Hank blinked. “Lord, I’m sorry. I mean Selena. My brain’s older than the grill.”
“Jessie will love hearing she’s the one who looks like an FBI agent now.”
“She looks like trouble with blue hair. You look like you can arrest people for thinking wrong.” Hank’s grin softened. “You home for a while?”
“Work called me back.”
“Work again.” He nodded once, and something in his expression grew more careful. News traveled fast, even when people pretended it didn’t. “That means something bad has gone down. Still, I’m glad you’re here.”
“So am I,” Selena said.
The answer surprised her by being true.
“How’s your dad?”
“He’s doing fine. I’ve spoken to him on the phone quite a bit recently.”
“That’ll have done him good the two of you speaking again.”
“I’m going to surprise him when I get a minute. He doesn’t know I’m back yet.”
Hank pointed a finger at her. “Don’t wait too long on that. A man likes surprises, but not when everyone else in town knows before he does. And you just know someone will mention it to him.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t. You left long enough to forget how this place works. By breakfast, three people will know where you parked and two will have opinions on your shoes.” Hank laughed and nodded toward the window. “You got the same table as you used to.”
Selena looked over.
Connor sat in the old booth.
So did Jessie Chase.
Jessie spotted her and sprang up before Selena had fully processed the sight. Blue hair, nose piercing, black tank top under a loose shirt, bracelets stacked along one wrist. She crossed the diner fast and wrapped Selena in a hug.
“I didn’t realize you’d be here,” Selena said, returning it.
Jessie pulled back. “Connor let slip he was meeting you here. I thought I’d crash for a few minutes.”
Connor lifted both hands from the booth. “I didn’t let anything slip. She interrogated me.”
“You made one face when I asked what you were doing tonight,” Jessie said. “That’s enough.”
Selena looked at her. “Staying long?”
“Can’t. I’ve got yoga.”
Selena stared. “Yoga? You?”
“It’s part of my recovery.” Jessie made a face, then smiled. “But I’m actually really digging it.”
“That might be the most surprising thing I’ve heard since coming home.”
“I contain multitudes.”
Connor said, “She bought one mat and now she talks like a meditation app.”
Jessie pointed at him. “Mockery blocks spiritual growth.”
“It hasn’t blocked yours. You’re getting louder.”
She sat beside Connor and shoved his shoulder. “Anyway, I came to say hi and thank you properly.”
Selena slid into the booth across from them. “Did you get your birthday present last week? I mailed it in time, I think.”
Jessie’s face changed. The sarcasm eased away, leaving something open and younger. “I did. It made my day. You shouldn’t have spent that much on me.”
“I wanted to.”
Connor leaned back, shaking his head. "Yeah, you shouldn't have. Buying my sister the same classic Walkman she had when she was a little girl really made my drinks and a slap-up meal at Roy's look bad."
Jessie punched him in the arm.
“Ow.”
“Not everything’s a competition, bro.”
Selena watched them with a faint smile. The bickering had an old rhythm, worn smooth by years. Beneath it sat something steadier. Connor’s eyes followed Jessie with the watchfulness of a man who had carried fear too long and had not yet learned to put it down.
Jessie reached across the table and squeezed Selena’s hand. “Seriously. Thank you. I cried like an idiot.”
“I’m glad you liked it.”
“I loved it. Found a tape at the thrift store the next day. Bon Jovi. Felt like I was twelve again, which was awful but also kind of amazing.”
Connor lifted his coffee mug. “She played it in my truck.”
Jessie raised an eyebrow. “You loved it,”
“I’m more of a Guns N’ Roses man.”
Jessie checked the clock above the counter. “I better go. I don’t want to be late.”
Selena stood to hug her again. “Let me know if you get any downtime.”
“I will.”
“Enjoy yoga. Just don’t break anything,” Connor said.
Jessie pressed her palms together and bowed her head with exaggerated solemnity. “I flow like a river.”
Connor looked at her. “Where did you get that, a fortune cookie?”
She tapped him on the arm.
“You know that’ll leave a bruise.”
“Good.”
Jessie kissed her brother on the cheek, then headed for the door. At the last second, she stopped, turned, and lifted both hands to form a rectangle with her fingers, framing Selena and Connor in the booth like a photograph.
“Now this is a nice sight.”
Selena sat back down. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it.”
Jessie’s smile widened. “You never know.”
The bell rang as she left.
Connor watched through the window until Jessie crossed the lot and climbed into an old blue hatchback. Only when the car pulled away did he turn back.
“Ignore her. This is part of her whole newfound life routine. Since she got clean, now I’m the one that needs fixin’ apparently.”
“I’m happy for her.”
“So am I.” Connor’s fingers circled his mug. “It hasn’t been easy getting her through rehab.”
“I know. I’ve talked to her about it on the phone quite a bit.”
He looked up.
Connor gave a small nod, conceding without agreeing. “She’s lucky to have you in her corner.”
“She’s lucky to have you as a brother, Connor.”
His gaze dropped to the table.
“Well,” he said, “we look out for our own.”
Hank arrived with two mugs and a pot. “Coffee for the sheriff and the federal thundercloud.”
Selena looked at him. “Federal thundercloud?”
“You got an expression like rain with paperwork. You should try smiling more, ma girl.”
“Thanks,” was all Selena could think to say. Hank had always spoken his mind, that hadn’t changed.
Hank filled both mugs. “Anything to eat?”
“Not yet,” Connor said.
“You sure? I got chili that’ll make you see God or regret the attempt.”
“Coffee’s good for now.”
Hank winked at Connor. “I’ll leave you two to it.”
Connor shook his head as Hank moved away. “I think everyone in this town sees us together and comes up with the wrong conclusion.”
Selena looked around.
The family in the back paid them no attention. The older man with the paper glanced over, then looked away too quickly. Hank pretended to wipe the counter while listening with his entire body.
“Let’s focus on work,” Selena said.
Connor took a drink. “All right.” He leaned back and grinned.
“I don’t like that grin. What is it?”
“The fingerprints came back. Arnold contacted me. Belong to a couple of teenagers who sometimes get into trouble in the neighborhood. Looks like they broke into the hunting lodge after Warren’s death because they wanted to see a crime scene.”
Selena felt a mix of disappointment and annoyance. “You sure?”
“Definitely.”
He stared at her, the grin still there.
“What, Connor? You want me to say I was wrong?” She hated being wrong, almost as much as she hated Connor being the one to hold it over her.
“No, no, just you were so adamant about your hunches and...”
Selena took out her notebook. “What did you find at Ray Parkinson’s?”