Mother’s Day, and birthday thrown into one.”
Nick waved and hurried over to them. “Welcome, friends. The Sunday special is a grilled salmon pasta that’ll knock your socks off. Big chunks of salmon, veggies, and penne pasta tossed together in a light creamy sauce and served in a pastry shell. Key lime pudding for dessert.”
Tessa put her hand on her heart. “Sounds so good.”
“No chance you’re going to let me have a triple bacon cheeseburger deluxe and sweet potato fries?” Antonio said.
Tessa rolled her eyes in response and walked over to the counter, where Gus and Maggie were already seated.
“Hello, hello,” Tessa said. “How was church?”
“We joined the seniors’ Sunday-school class today.” Maggie took Gus’s hand. “My other half kept the discussion lively.”
Antonio slid onto the stool between Tessa and Gus and slapped Gus on the back. “How’s it going, friend?”
“Really can’t complain, but I always do.”
“So what do you know?”
Gus stroked his white mustache. “It’s mighty sad the authorities found another shooting victim—a kid to boot.”
“I should say so.” Tessa shook her head. “I’m just sick over it.”
“Kinda odd her parents hadn’t reported her missin’, though.”
“Downright criminal,” Antonio said. “Who loses sight of a kid that age for two days? They ought to be charged with neglect.”
“According to WSTN,” Maggie said, “the parents thought the girl was with her grandmother.”
“Thought?” Antonio looked over at Maggie. “Isn’t it their job to know?”
“This girl might have lied to both,” Tessa said. “She wouldn’t be the first thirteen-year-old to play family members against each other.”
“Still doesn’t explain what her backpack and trash were doin’ on the front porch of that vacant house,” Gus said.
The corners of Antonio’s mouth curled up. “Maybe she had a secret powwow with the red shadows.”
“Please don’t get him started, Antonio.” Tessa exhaled loudly enough to show her disgust.
“Don’t worry”—Gus waved his hand—“I’m not gonna tell you what I think.”
“Since when?”
“Since now. Those of us who believe that the red shadows are behind the unexplained crimes in this town are wastin’ our breath discussin’ it with those of you who don’t.”
It’s about time, Tessa thought. She bit her lip and resisted the temptation to respond.
Nick walked behind the counter, a bar towel draped across his shoulder. He bent down and spoke softly. “I just found out the name of the little girl who was shot: Natalie Benchfield.”
“Who told you?” Antonio said.
“I can’t say, but it’s someone in the know. Keep it to yourselves. Maggie, what’s wrong?”
“I know that name. The Benchfields are customers. They come in on Saturdays. They had a middle-school-age daughter and a son that needed a booster seat. I remember the name because Mr. Benchfield always paid by credit card—and because I felt sorry for the daughter. People always made over her baby brother. I made it a point to compliment her.”
“Oh, yeah,” Nick said. “I think I remember. Wasn’t she a little blonde?”
“Uh-huh. Tiny thing. Cute as a button except for the heavy eye makeup adolescent girls seem to like. I can’t believe she got killed in a shooting.”
Gus squeezed Maggie’s hand. “When’d you see her last?”
“Just a couple weeks ago. She’d just gotten braces and seemed pretty proud of them, like it was a rite of passage or something.”
“I remember our Sabrina at that age.” Tessa sighed. “I would have been devastated if something like this had happened to her.”
“Yes, but we would never have lost track of her for two days,” Antonio said. “I don’t mean to sound judgmental, but her parents should’ve known where she was.”
Brill stood at the window in her office, her hands clasped behind her back. Below, on the well-manicured grounds of city hall, a boy in a
Nick waved and hurried over to them. “Welcome, friends. The Sunday special is a grilled salmon pasta that’ll knock your socks off. Big chunks of salmon, veggies, and penne pasta tossed together in a light creamy sauce and served in a pastry shell. Key lime pudding for dessert.”
Tessa put her hand on her heart. “Sounds so good.”
“No chance you’re going to let me have a triple bacon cheeseburger deluxe and sweet potato fries?” Antonio said.
Tessa rolled her eyes in response and walked over to the counter, where Gus and Maggie were already seated.
“Hello, hello,” Tessa said. “How was church?”
“We joined the seniors’ Sunday-school class today.” Maggie took Gus’s hand. “My other half kept the discussion lively.”
Antonio slid onto the stool between Tessa and Gus and slapped Gus on the back. “How’s it going, friend?”
“Really can’t complain, but I always do.”
“So what do you know?”
Gus stroked his white mustache. “It’s mighty sad the authorities found another shooting victim—a kid to boot.”
“I should say so.” Tessa shook her head. “I’m just sick over it.”
“Kinda odd her parents hadn’t reported her missin’, though.”
“Downright criminal,” Antonio said. “Who loses sight of a kid that age for two days? They ought to be charged with neglect.”
“According to WSTN,” Maggie said, “the parents thought the girl was with her grandmother.”
“Thought?” Antonio looked over at Maggie. “Isn’t it their job to know?”
“This girl might have lied to both,” Tessa said. “She wouldn’t be the first thirteen-year-old to play family members against each other.”
“Still doesn’t explain what her backpack and trash were doin’ on the front porch of that vacant house,” Gus said.
The corners of Antonio’s mouth curled up. “Maybe she had a secret powwow with the red shadows.”
“Please don’t get him started, Antonio.” Tessa exhaled loudly enough to show her disgust.
“Don’t worry”—Gus waved his hand—“I’m not gonna tell you what I think.”
“Since when?”
“Since now. Those of us who believe that the red shadows are behind the unexplained crimes in this town are wastin’ our breath discussin’ it with those of you who don’t.”
It’s about time, Tessa thought. She bit her lip and resisted the temptation to respond.
Nick walked behind the counter, a bar towel draped across his shoulder. He bent down and spoke softly. “I just found out the name of the little girl who was shot: Natalie Benchfield.”
“Who told you?” Antonio said.
“I can’t say, but it’s someone in the know. Keep it to yourselves. Maggie, what’s wrong?”
“I know that name. The Benchfields are customers. They come in on Saturdays. They had a middle-school-age daughter and a son that needed a booster seat. I remember the name because Mr. Benchfield always paid by credit card—and because I felt sorry for the daughter. People always made over her baby brother. I made it a point to compliment her.”
“Oh, yeah,” Nick said. “I think I remember. Wasn’t she a little blonde?”
“Uh-huh. Tiny thing. Cute as a button except for the heavy eye makeup adolescent girls seem to like. I can’t believe she got killed in a shooting.”
Gus squeezed Maggie’s hand. “When’d you see her last?”
“Just a couple weeks ago. She’d just gotten braces and seemed pretty proud of them, like it was a rite of passage or something.”
“I remember our Sabrina at that age.” Tessa sighed. “I would have been devastated if something like this had happened to her.”
“Yes, but we would never have lost track of her for two days,” Antonio said. “I don’t mean to sound judgmental, but her parents should’ve known where she was.”
Brill stood at the window in her office, her hands clasped behind her back. Below, on the well-manicured grounds of city hall, a boy in a
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