Rich was already running down the two flights of stairs to the ground floor by the time she reached the hallway. She took the elevator, hoping she’d beat him down. It was the principle of the thing. She didn’t. So much for principles.
CARRIE HAD BEEN to the area many times since signing on as deputy two years ago. She’d never been to or even seen the wind-and-weather mangled sign that said Maizie’s Café. In fact, she’d never known this road existed. From the highway, it looked more like a dirt trail leading to someone’s barn.
Turned out there were half a dozen or more houses and at least that many mobile homes tucked back in the trees along the dirt road that dead-ended at Maizie’s. The sign and the array of mud-encrusted pickup trucks parked in a square of gravel where the yard should have been were the only indication this wasn’t just another residence.
The house was a one-story, wood cottage that needed a paint job. A big gray cat was perched in a squeaking porch swing.
“How did you ever find this place?” Carrie asked, friendlier now that breakfast was beaconing.
“The third house on the left after you leave the highway is where my grandparents lived.”
“I didn’t notice. You’ll have to point it out as we leave.”
“Not much to see. Just an old house, about like this one.”
“Who lives there now?”
“No one.” He put the patrol car in Park, then climbed from behind the wheel. She followed, enticed by mouthwatering odors wafting on the slight breeze. He waited until she reached the porch before opening the restaurant door.
Once inside, she was hit with a new wave of the tantalizing odors she’d smelled from outside. She shrugged out of her parka and hung it over one of the hooks by the door while a chorus of gravelly voiced how-you-been’s greeted Rich.
Okay, so he did know his way around the area. She’d give him that one. She looked for an empty table. There wasn’t one, so she waited while Rich stopped at a couple of tables to jaw.
“You still looking for the guy who shot the cop and abducted that woman?” a man asked.
“Still looking,” Rich admitted.
“I knew there would be trouble when they rebuilt that fancy hotel,” another said. “Got strangers running these roads all hours of the day and night now.”
Rich gave a noncommittal nod. A young waitress passed carrying a plate of bacon, eggs and biscuits.
“There’re tables in the back room, Rich.”
“Thanks, Jen.”
“Obviously you’re a regular in here,” Carrie said as they found a table in the next room, one that was most likely the original dining room of the house. It was right off the kitchen and had a couple of windows that offered a great view of the mountains.
“Not so often.”
“You know the waitress by name.”
“I’ve known Jen since she was in diapers. That’s Maizie’s granddaughter. She and her mother live in the mobile home next door.”
A minute later, Jen stopped at their table with two glasses of water. “What can I get you?”
“I haven’t seen a menu,” Carrie said.
“No menus. We got all the usual. Pancakes, eggs, sausage, bacon, pork chops, biscuits, toast. Got some homemade blackberry jam, too.”
“I’ll take two eggs, over easy, some sausage and biscuits,” Rich said. “And coffee.”
“Same for me,” Carrie said, imagining her arteries hardening as she said it. But she hadn’t heard a lot of healthy choices among Jen’s offerings.
A smiling woman who looked to be in her mid-forties served the coffee. “’Bout time you got in to see me,” she said, smiling at Rich. “How’s your grandmother? Is she adjusting any better?”
“A little. She still misses being home. And she misses you. She said to tell you hello.”
“You tell her hello right back. I been thinking about trying to get down there to see here, but I don’t like driving in Seattle. Too much traffic. Gets me all rattled.”
“I’ll drive you down one day. She’d love to see you. Dad would, too.”
“How’s his heart?”
“Still beating.”
“You tell him that darn dog of his still won’t sleep here. He comes down to eat, but then he goes right back up there. Sleeps on the front porch most of the day, right in front of the front door. He’s waiting for ’em to come back home.”
Rich introduced Carrie to Maizie Henderson. Maizie merely nodded at her, then looked back at Rich. “I got to get back to the kitchen before Tom lets my sausages burn.”
“How is Tom?”
She shook her head, and the smile she’d been wearing caved into a frown. “He just ain’t the same anymore, Rich. It’s like his body’s here, but his mind’s still up there in the mountains somewhere. I just wish I knew what happened on that hunting trip.”
“He’s still never said?”
“No, but something happened up there. A man don’t just go hunting a normal man and come home a zombie unless he’s seen something.”
The statement captured Carrie’s attention, but she waited until Maizie had returned to the kitchen before questioning Rich.
“Is Tom Maizie’s husband?”
“Yeah.”
“What happened to him in the mountains?”
“Had a stroke, I expect, but you’d never get Maizie to buy anything that rational.”
“Why not?”
“Easier to blame the mountains than his health, I guess.”
Jen returned to the their table with the coffee and a couple of apple muffins on flowered saucers. “Just out of the oven,” she said, setting a muffin down in front of each of them. “I’ll bring some butter to go on them.”
Carrie took one bite of the muffin and forgot everything else. The texture was light and fluffy and there was just enough nutmeg and cinnamon to make her taste buds sing.
Before they finished the muffins, Jen had returned with their breakfasts and more coffee. Carrie was halfway through her eggs and sausage and her stomach was sliding past full when her mind when back to Maizie’s suspicions about what had happened to her husband.
She waited until Rich was finished and excused himself to go to the men’s room before she walked back to the kitchen. Maizie was turning eggs on the grill. Jen was arranging biscuits on a plate. Tom was nowhere to be seen.
Maizie looked up when Carrie approached. “How was your breakfast?”
“Delicious. The muffins were to die for.”
Maizie smiled. “Everybody seems to like them. It’s the fresh apples.”
Carrie waited until Jen left with a tray of food. “It must be hard on you taking care of this place by yourself now that your husband’s ill.”
“Hard enough. He helps some, when his mind is clicking in.”
“It seems strange that he’d go off on a hunting trip and come back so…”
“Out of it. Just plain out of it,” Maizie said, finishing her sentence when Carrie hesitated.
“Does he know who you are?”
“He knows. It just don’t seem to matter none. It’s like he’s somewhere