them were undercover government agents, but no one looked like a hacker, either. Max must have arrived before DoubleThink.
He squeaked into a slightly sticky booth by a wide window facing the parking lot where he would see everyone who arrived.
He yawned. God, he was exhausted. He was also famished. All he’d had on the road was a two-liter bottle of pop and a package of Twinkies. He might as well eat while he waited for DoubleThink.
He looked around for a waitress. There were two women in matching black blouses arguing by the register, a short woman with brown hair styled in a pageboy cut, and a blond girl with a ponytail. He couldn’t hear them, but the brunette glanced over at Max not once but twice.
Why would they be talking about me?
Nervous now, Max pulled out his new phone and connected to the restaurant’s free network. To his relief, his absence hadn’t made the news yet, but he had missed a significant update during the night: All the media sites were buzzing that STOP had been identified as Evan Baxter.
Even though he’d known this was coming, it was still a shock. With this break in the story, more pieces would fall into place quickly. Max would have to keep moving, and he would have to keep looking over his shoulder.
“Good morning,” a woman said. Max slapped his phone facedown on the kids’ maze printed on his placemat. He looked up. The brown-haired waitress smiled at him—Jessica, according to her nametag.
“I’m Jess, and I’ll be your server today.” She handed him a wide plastic menu. “Can I get you started with a drink?”
“Coffee, as much as you can spare.” Max returned the slimy menu. He was just going to get his usual. “And I’ll have the Ultimate Omelette and the Lumberjack Slam with sausage, scrambled eggs, and wheat toast.”
“An Ultimate and the Lumberjack with sausage, scrambled eggs, and wheat toast.” She repeated it without writing it down. “I’ll put that order in and be right back with your coffee.”
“Thanks.”
Max waited until she had gone to the kitchen before picking up his phone. He wiped his hands on a napkin before scrolling through the top news article.
There wasn’t much personal information about Evan yet, but that would certainly change. Right now, all they were talking about were basic facts: Evan had been a seventeen-year-old student at Granville High School, diagnosed with Asperger's syndrome. He was described as a computer wunderkind who kept to himself.
Max was more interested in the glaring omissions: how Evan had died, where his body had been found, and how the FBI had ultimately figured out his identity.
Jess came back with a mug and a coffee pot. She filled his cup and Max gulped the coffee black.
“Can you leave the pot?” Max asked.
“We aren’t supposed to.” She refilled his cup. “Just ask when you want more. Your food should be out in five minutes.”
A rusty green pickup truck pulled into the lot outside. Max propped his elbows on the table and held his coffee cup up to hide the lower half of his face as he watched a man in his thirties with long, tangled hair approach the Denny’s, a camo backpack with a broken strap slung over his right shoulder.
The man entered and shuffled past Max’s booth to a table in the corner behind him. Max shifted to keep an eye on him. The man pulled a battered laptop from his bag and plugged it into an outlet. DoubleThink?
The man started typing on his computer, paying no attention to Max or anyone else in the restaurant. When Jess tried to hand him a menu, he waved it off and ordered a coffee and cherry pie without looking away from his screen once.
The sky was turning gray. Distant clouds were tinged with a soft, rosy glow. Max stared out the window, searching the parking lot for anything out of the ordinary. But it looked exactly as it should: boring. Peaceful.
He kept looking at the man with the laptop in his reflection in the glass until Jess brought over his food. For
He squeaked into a slightly sticky booth by a wide window facing the parking lot where he would see everyone who arrived.
He yawned. God, he was exhausted. He was also famished. All he’d had on the road was a two-liter bottle of pop and a package of Twinkies. He might as well eat while he waited for DoubleThink.
He looked around for a waitress. There were two women in matching black blouses arguing by the register, a short woman with brown hair styled in a pageboy cut, and a blond girl with a ponytail. He couldn’t hear them, but the brunette glanced over at Max not once but twice.
Why would they be talking about me?
Nervous now, Max pulled out his new phone and connected to the restaurant’s free network. To his relief, his absence hadn’t made the news yet, but he had missed a significant update during the night: All the media sites were buzzing that STOP had been identified as Evan Baxter.
Even though he’d known this was coming, it was still a shock. With this break in the story, more pieces would fall into place quickly. Max would have to keep moving, and he would have to keep looking over his shoulder.
“Good morning,” a woman said. Max slapped his phone facedown on the kids’ maze printed on his placemat. He looked up. The brown-haired waitress smiled at him—Jessica, according to her nametag.
“I’m Jess, and I’ll be your server today.” She handed him a wide plastic menu. “Can I get you started with a drink?”
“Coffee, as much as you can spare.” Max returned the slimy menu. He was just going to get his usual. “And I’ll have the Ultimate Omelette and the Lumberjack Slam with sausage, scrambled eggs, and wheat toast.”
“An Ultimate and the Lumberjack with sausage, scrambled eggs, and wheat toast.” She repeated it without writing it down. “I’ll put that order in and be right back with your coffee.”
“Thanks.”
Max waited until she had gone to the kitchen before picking up his phone. He wiped his hands on a napkin before scrolling through the top news article.
There wasn’t much personal information about Evan yet, but that would certainly change. Right now, all they were talking about were basic facts: Evan had been a seventeen-year-old student at Granville High School, diagnosed with Asperger's syndrome. He was described as a computer wunderkind who kept to himself.
Max was more interested in the glaring omissions: how Evan had died, where his body had been found, and how the FBI had ultimately figured out his identity.
Jess came back with a mug and a coffee pot. She filled his cup and Max gulped the coffee black.
“Can you leave the pot?” Max asked.
“We aren’t supposed to.” She refilled his cup. “Just ask when you want more. Your food should be out in five minutes.”
A rusty green pickup truck pulled into the lot outside. Max propped his elbows on the table and held his coffee cup up to hide the lower half of his face as he watched a man in his thirties with long, tangled hair approach the Denny’s, a camo backpack with a broken strap slung over his right shoulder.
The man entered and shuffled past Max’s booth to a table in the corner behind him. Max shifted to keep an eye on him. The man pulled a battered laptop from his bag and plugged it into an outlet. DoubleThink?
The man started typing on his computer, paying no attention to Max or anyone else in the restaurant. When Jess tried to hand him a menu, he waved it off and ordered a coffee and cherry pie without looking away from his screen once.
The sky was turning gray. Distant clouds were tinged with a soft, rosy glow. Max stared out the window, searching the parking lot for anything out of the ordinary. But it looked exactly as it should: boring. Peaceful.
He kept looking at the man with the laptop in his reflection in the glass until Jess brought over his food. For
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