My eyes went wide. “Then you feel it, too?”
“No, the whole ride over here you were telling me you were missing the files Kale brought over from UDA.” He grinned.
“You’re a gem.”
“Come on, then.” Will held out his hand and I took it, allowing him to lead me out of the store and across the street to the diner.
It was still warm and cozy in there and the scent of meat loaf was still heavy in the air. It turned my stomach.
“Can I help you guys?” Shirley, the waitress who waited on us earlier, rounded one of the high-backed booths. She cocked her head and smiled, pointing at me with the eraser end of her Fog City Diner pencil. “Oh, I remember you.”
“You do? Great. We were here earlier.”
“Right, you were with the pale kids.” Her bright eyes clouded. “I’m sorry, that was your friend who got hit, right?”
“Kale, yeah. She’ll be in the hospital for a while, but they think she’s going to be all right.” I offered a small smile, as much to convince Shirley of my statement as myself.
“That’s a relief.” Shirley nodded toward an empty booth to our left. “Can I get you guys something to go, or do you need a table? We’re just cutting into a Black Forest cake.” Shirley waggled her eyebrows. In any other instance, I would have been knee deep in Black Forest before she had rung me up.
“No, thanks. Actually, I’m here because I ran out and left something at my table. Some file folders? There should have been three, or maybe four. Do you have them?”
Shirley tapped her pencil against her lower lip. Her eyes went to the ceiling, as if the folders were stashed up there. “I don’t think so.” She glanced over her shoulder at the table where we had our lunch—now occupied by a couple with bright red cheeks and matching I SURVIVED ALCATRAZ sweatshirts.
“The table’s turned over a couple of times since then, but let me check with the bussers to see if they picked up anything.”
“Great.” I sank down on a bench, and Will paced in front of me, nose buried in a menu.
“Are you seriously going to order something?”
Will rubbed his flat belly. “I am a bit peckish. We didn’t get to eat much before.”
My stomach folded in on itself as the olfactory memory of those hospital smells stung my nose again. “I can’t see how you can even think of food right now.”
Will’s eyes followed a plate of fried chicken and mashed potatoes whizzing by. “It’s a gift.”
“No, sorry.” Shirley came back to us, shaking her head. The little jade elephants hanging off her ears were bopping against her cheeks. “No one remembers cleaning anything off that table other than the usual stuff. And none of the wait staff knew anything about any folders.”
My stomach dropped to my knees. “Nothing?”
Shirley shook her head. “Nothing. Aw, don’t worry.” She patted my arm kindly. “I’ll go get the lost-and-found bin and you both can rummage through that. If one of the customers turned them in, they’d be in there.”
I felt a weak stab of hope and pumped my head. “Yeah, okay. Hey, Will ...”
Will’s head was bent; his palms were pressed against the glass of the dessert case, where fresh slices of cake were laid out. He popped up and opened his menu again, studying it. “I’ll search through this display case, make sure nothing looks suspicious. You can go through that.” Will nodded toward the flimsy box Shirley returned with. She grinned.
“Here you go.”
I pawed through the “Remains of Vacations Past”—funky plastic sunglasses, a couple of mismatched gloves, and two full bottles of sunscreen—and sighed, pushing the box aside. I looked up to where Will stood and cocked one annoyed eyebrow at him.
“Well, at least one of us found something helpful,” Will said, holding up his overloaded to-go carton, flashing a pleased grin.
Chapter Ten
A hot cucumber-melon–scented bath and half a bottle of Chardonnay later, I was home on my couch, staring at my cell phone. Alex hadn’t answered when I called earlier, and I didn’t bother to leave a message. Still, I hoped—it was minuscule, but it was a hope—that he would see my missed call or feel my crushed-spirit Spidey sense and come running.
No such luck.
I was about to punch the speed dial again when there was a light knock on the front door. I rolled up on my tiptoes and stared through the peephole, where Will’s head, giant and misshapen, greeted me. He grinned and held up a coffee mug.
“Just need a little sugar, love.”
I undid the dead bolt and the chain—you can never be too careful, even if you did live with a fashionista vampire and an eight-inch hound of Hell—and opened the door.
“Sorry it’s so late. Did I wake you?”
I pulled my bathrobe tighter across my chest and wagged my head. “No. Nina just got in. I’m too antsy to go to sleep. Any word on Kale?”
“Nothing new.” Will followed me into the kitchen and I began opening cabinets. “Do you just need white sugar?”