souls dotted the interior, intent on the beer or their laptops, mostly alone, though Brock spotted one couple snuggling in a back booth, giggling over a pizza and a couple of brews.
He’d always loved the taste of beer. Even now, though he hadn’t drank one in years, his mouth watered.
With the ease of much practice, he pushed the craving away. He’d heard it never left you, this almost obscene yearning for alcohol. Kind of like the way he felt about Zoe.
Damn. Cursing under his breath, he took another drink, glad Jason had moved away to help another customer. He’d just gotten his world whipped into shape. While he couldn’t say he was truly happy, he was content. He had the feed store, his mother and sister, and his weekend gig at the college radio station. That was enough. It had to be, because that was all he had.
He cursed the day Zoe had come back into town and started him once again wanting more.
* * *
Morning arrived silently in Anniversary, the only hint of its arrival a shaft of yellow light. Stretching, Zoe reflected on how she missed mornings in Manhattan. There, the noise built like a crescendo, rising in waves and pulling you from your nest under the covers. She found it invigorating, emerging from her apartment onto the bustling street, the sounds of the city a shot of adrenaline straight into her veins.
Here, she had to rely on coffee. Strong coffee. She had a cup at Mama Bell’s before driving into town to meet Cristine. She took the cup with her, sipping as she drove.
Still she felt half-asleep as she negotiated the surprisingly crowded downtown area. It took her a few minutes to find a parking spot. Once she had, she slugged back the rest of the coffee, aware there’d be more.
Stepping into the coffee shop felt like hopping backward in time. A blast from the past at Joe’s. It ought to be their slogan. Glancing around, Zoe could swear the same people in the various red vinyl booths had been here the last time she’d come, over five years ago.
“Well, I’ll be... Zoe Onella?” Hand on one cocked hip, the other holding a steaming pot of coffee, Patsy O’Brien flipped her long, gray braid out of the way and grinned. “Have a seat anywhere, sugar. Let me guess, cheese blintzes with blueberries, right?”
Zoe nodded. Though she’d originally planned on having a sensible breakfast of scrambled egg substitute with turkey bacon and wheat toast, she suddenly craved the comfort food of her youth.
“Zoe, over here.” Cristine waved from a booth near the back. Today, she’d lightened up on the heavy black eyeliner, though apparently she still favored low-cut shirts and push up bras.
Zoe hurried over and slid in.
“Coffee?” Cristine passed a cup over to her. Accepting gratefully, Zoe caught Patsy’s eye. The older woman bustled over, filled the cup and sighed. “Look at you, all sophisticated and everything. Maybe when the breakfast rush slows down, I’ll have time to chat.” And she hurried off, to Zoe’s relief.
“You do look different,” Cristine mused. “Of course, you were always pretty, even back in high school. But now you look so...citified.”
Not sure if the statement was an insult or a compliment, Zoe only sipped her coffee and nodded. Then, because she wanted to focus the conversation where it belonged, she leaned forward. “How was Shayna acting these last few weeks? Did she say or do anything unusual?”
“You mean something to let me know she was planning on running off?” Pursing her lips, Cristine considered the question. “Well, she had been acting worried. She had a bit of a run-in with a drug dealer. That’s never good. She owed him money and wasn’t sure how she’d come up with it.”
At the words, Zoe’s stomach clenched and she closed her eyes. Again, it was hammered home to her how much Shayna had changed. Shayna had known the adverse effect drugs had had on Zoe’s life. Zoe’s mother had been an addict and had done prison time, before being released and then murdered by her dealer in front of Zoe.
She couldn’t believe Shayna had sunk that low.
“Are you sure?” she heard herself ask, even though she knew Cristine had to be.
“Yes.” Cristine bit her lip. “But no worries. I covered it for her. I loaned her the money and she’d already started paying me back.”
“Did she?” Zoe felt a flash of anger and let it show in her voice.
Cristine looked down. “Yes.”
Hurt and angry and confused, Zoe sighed.
“Hey.” Cristine’s sweet Southern drawl brought her out of her thoughts. “Are you okay? You looked kind of out of it for a minute there.”
“I was just thinking about the past.” Before she could say anything else, Patsy appeared with their food.
“Here you go, sugar.” She set a plate with three cheese blintzes covered with blueberries and whipped cream in front of Zoe. “Now you try and eat all of this, you hear? You are looking way too skinny these days.”
Zoe nodded, unable to keep from smiling. In New York, everyone she knew was obsessed with remaining svelte. Hearing Patsy call her too thin was like balm on her soul.
Obligingly, she dug in. Across from her, Cristine stared at her omelet before finally picking up a piece of crispy bacon and crunching it between her teeth.
At least the arrival of their breakfast had saved them from further conversation. Zoe still had no idea why Cristine wanted to meet with her privately. Though she knew things moved much slower here in Texas than they did up north, she needed to try and pry that out of her.
Eventually, Patsy cleared their plates, refilled their coffee and left the check, expressing her regret that she was still too busy to stay and chat.
Taking a deep drink of coffee, finally feeling caffeinated, Zoe glanced at her watch before extracting a twenty from her wallet to pay for the meal. Funny how this exact same breakfast in Manhattan would have cost twice as much. “Cristine, was there a reason you wanted to meet me for breakfast? If not, I’ve really got to get going.”
Leaning back in the booth, Cristine arched her brows. “Yes, Zoe. I did need to discuss something with you. I’m sorry I didn’t bring it up sooner, but it’s difficult for me to say.”
Watching her, Zoe waited.
After getting no response, Cristine continued. “I think I know what happened to Shayna, though I don’t know if she ran off or was abducted.”
“Abducted?” Zoe sucked in her breath. “Why are you telling me this? Don’t you think you should go to the police?”
“I don’t have concrete evidence.” Cristine grimaced, looking uncomfortable. “Only my suspicions.”
Crap. Torn between wanting to believe her and demanding Cristine march right down to the police station this instant, Zoe leaned close. “Tell me what you know,” she said. “Then maybe we’ll go talk to the sheriff together.”
“Okay.” Relief colored Cristine’s voice. “Shayna was friends with a lot of men, you know?”
Zoe
