With a slight smirk, Hugh settled back on his side of the table. “Anything fun and exciting happen last night?”
“Eh,” Otto said with a lift of one shoulder. “Carson Byers got picked up again.”
Hugh frowned. “That’s not fun. Or exciting. In fact, that’s something that happens almost every shift. What was it this time?”
“Trespass.”
“He was drunk and thought the Andersons’ house was his again?”
“The Daggs’ place, this time.”
“Wait. Isn’t that on the other side of town?”
“Yep.”
“Dumbass.”
“Yep.”
Only half-listening, Theo let the other men’s conversation wash over him. His gaze wandered to find the new server again. She was topping off the coffee mugs of the customers sitting at the counter as she listened to something Megan was telling her.
“I ran into Sherry at the gas station last night.”
Otto’s too-casual statement jerked Theo’s attention back to their conversation.
Rubbing the back of his head, Hugh asked, “How’s she doing?”
“Not good. But what do you expect when her dad—”
“Let me out.” Theo cut off the rest of Otto’s words, glaring at him until the other man slid out of the booth. As Theo stalked away from the table, there was only silence behind him—a heavy, suffocating silence. He didn’t have a destination in mind except away, but his feet carried him toward the new server as if they had a mind of their own.
The woman watched him, her blue eyes getting wider and wider, until he stopped in front of her. They stared at each other for several moments. She was even prettier and looked even more scared up close. There were dark shadows smudged beneath her eyes, and her face had a drawn, tight look. Her throat moved as she swallowed, and her eyes darted to the side. Theo tensed, his cop instincts urging him to chase her if she ran.
When she ran.
“Theo,” Megan barked in her husky voice as she passed, “go sit down. You’re being creepy.”
He shot her a frown, but most of his attention was still on the new server. “What’s your name?”
She swallowed again and tried to force a smile, but it quickly fell away. “Jules. Um…for Julie.”
“Last name?”
“Uh…Jackson.” Her gaze jumped toward the door.
“Where are you from?” He couldn’t stop asking questions. It was partly his ingrained cop curiosity, and partly the personal interest he couldn’t seem to smother.
“Arkansas.”
Theo called bullshit on that. While she’d said her last name too slowly, this had come too fast, like he’d asked her a quiz question that she’d studied for. He could see the tension vibrating through her, her body projecting the urge to flee. What was she running from? An abusive husband? The consequences of a crime she’d committed? “What brings you to Colorado?”
“It’s…a nice state?” Her eyes squeezed closed for a second, as if she was mentally reprimanding herself for the inane answer.
Every glance at the door, every stifled flinch, every half-assed response just made Theo more suspicious. “You move here by yourself?”
“I…um…” Her hunted gaze fixed on Megan’s back, but the other server was occupied with helping a little boy get ketchup out of a recalcitrant bottle and didn’t see her pleading expression. “I should get back to work.”
“Wait.” He reached for her arm.
“Theo.” Hugh stood right behind him, and Theo felt his jaw tighten as his hand dropped to his side. Why did they feel a need to watch him like he was an unstable bomb? “Food’s here.”
Theo didn’t want to return to the table, didn’t want to eat, didn’t want to talk about Sherry or anything else. What he did want was to find out more about the new, pretty, squirrelly waitress whose name may—but more likely may not—be Julie Jackson.
Jules.
He was tempted to send Hugh back to the table without him, but what was the point? All she would do was keep lying…badly. Later, in the squad car, he’d try to run her name, although “Julie Jackson” from Arkansas, without a date of birth or a middle name, would give him enough hits to keep him busy for months.
He’d give it time. They were at the diner every morning. He’d have plenty of opportunities to try to get information from the newcomer.
Assuming she didn’t skip town first.
Ignoring his screaming instincts—his curiosity—his interest—he gave a short, reluctant nod and returned to the table. He could wait for his answers.
Still, it was hard not looking back.
Chapter 2
One Week Earlier