The Grove Read Online Free Page B

decided, I’d go into town and see what I could find out about Jessica Cammon. Someone had to know what had happened.
    I took one more look at the photo, studying Jessica’s face, and imagined her wrapping her arms around my neck, hugging me and thanking me for helping her.
    It made me smile.
    I put the photos back and closed the purse, leaving it where I’d found it, then turned away from the grove and headed toward the house. When I crossed the ravine, I looked back. For a moment I felt bad leaving her outside in the rain, but I forced myself to keep walking.
    The wind pushed and fought, and the corn surged around me. I walked faster, then ran, and when I reached the house I was out of breath.
    A sharp cramp dug into my side. I took the bottle out of my pocket and drank, waiting for the pain to pass.
    It went away, but the wind never stopped.
    I stood on the porch and stared out at the shadows of the cottonwoods in the grove. The sky was now completely dark, and the rain was coming down hard. I had to remind myself that she’d be all right out there, but something inside me didn’t believe it.
    She was alone, like me, and for a moment, through the rain, I heard someone crying in the distance.
    Then nothing.
    I listened for a while longer, then turned and went inside, locking the door behind me.

 
     
    MONDAY

CHAPTER 7
     
    The Riverbank Café was a one-level brick building on the far end of Main Street, windowless except for three small squares of glass on either side of the door. Originally it had been a bar, but the old owner retired and left it to his nephew, who’d turned it into a restaurant.
    Apparently, the nephew had found Jesus after running into some trouble with drugs in the city. He’d decided a small business in an even smaller town would go a long way toward healing his soul and saving his marriage.
    As long as the business wasn’t a bar.
    So, the Riverbank Café opened nowhere near a river.
    Liz told me once that the name had something to do with John the Baptist, but I’d never been one for fables, and if I’d heard the story I didn’t remember it. She’d said, “He was the guy who baptized Jesus then got beheaded by the Romans.”
    I’d told her they made good omelets.
    That had been the end of the conversation.
     
     
    I pulled into the dirt lot in front of the Riverbank Café and parked next to a black Wentworth truck pulling a cattle car. Inside, pigs shuffled and grunted in the heat. The grill of the truck was a spray of dead bugs covering a confederate flag.
    I got out, crossed the parking lot to the front door, and went inside. The air in the café was cold and felt good on my skin. The woman behind the counter looked up and smiled. There was a flash of recognition behind her eyes, but to her credit, the smile didn’t fade.
    “Back from the dead, I see,” she said. “Just you today, or is your wife coming?”
    “Just me,” I said.
    She nodded, then motioned toward a line of booths along the wall. “Well, sit anywhere you like.”
    The only people inside were an old couple in one of the booths and a guy in a Harley Davidson T-shirt sitting at the counter. I sat in the corner where I could see the entire room. A minute later a young girl came out of the kitchen, took a menu from the front counter, and crossed over to me.
    “Coffee?”
    I nodded and took the menu, even though I knew what I wanted.
    The girl turned, and I watched her walk away. She didn’t look much older than Jessica, but it was hard to tell if she was one of the girls in the photograph or not. If she’d been wearing sunglasses, maybe.
    I dropped the menu on the table and leaned back in the booth. Country music drifted through the cook’s window into the dining room. The woman behind the counter was refilling ketchup bottles and humming along to a song I’d never heard.
    The old man in the booth leaned across the table toward the old woman and whispered something. The old woman giggled then covered her mouth