“Did he have an accent?” Mac set the Shirley Temple in front of Penny. He went to work finishing Kate’s order so it’d be ready when she scampered back to face Grady.
“Tank said his voice was on the nasally side, but there was something the killer said that made Tank think he was a southerner.”
“What’s that?”
“It was some saying like, ‘Me ‘n you are gonna mix, boy,’ or something along those lines. Tank said he hadn’t heard anyone say that since he’d moved west.”
“So possibly a southern drawl,” Penny said, as if taking notes in her head.
“There’s something else,” Grady told them. “Tank tackled this guy, ramming him into a worktable with tools on it. He said the guy was limping as he ran off.”
“Which leg?” Penny asked.
Mac glanced at Grady’s sister. Was this penchant for sniffing out criminals a family trait?
“Left.” Grady took a sip of his beer.
Butch grinned. “Don’t mess with Tank.”
“Don’t mess with Yuccaville,” Penny said, raising her glass in a mock toast.
Grady cast a tired smile her way. “Don’t get cocky. We haven’t caught the son of a bitch yet.”
“Someone will.” She shrugged at Grady’s raised brow. “Either your crew or the local police will find him, especially since you put out an APB to keep an eye out for Tank’s attacker and reminded everyone about the Silent Witness hotline. Local folks are going to be pissed about Tank getting hurt. Everyone loves Tank.”
“She’s right,” Grady told Mac. “Several folks stopped by Tank’s place and volunteered to keep the business going for him while he’s on the mend. We took names to give him when he’s coherent enough to respond to the offers.”
“I hope you’re right about the killer being caught soon,” Mac said to Penny.
Grady pointed his glass of beer at Mac and told her, “His girlfriend is Veronica’s sister.”
“Claire?”
Mac paused. How did she know … oh yeah, she was Grady’s sister.
Grady nodded. “Butch is dating the youngest sister.”
“Kate, the pregnant one.” Penny returned, again as if reading from invisible notes. She smiled at Butch. “You should have brought her around the diner before now. She stopped by with some friends and her cousin this morning for some breakfast. She’s a real sweetheart.”
Grady guffawed. “When she’s not wielding a soda water gun.”
Or threatening to spray paint Mac’s pickup or shooting holes in Claire’s Jeep or Tasering old guys or … Mac chuckled to himself, finishing Kate’s order and setting it on the tray she’d left.
“Where is Kate tonight?” Grady asked, looking around. “I have a bone to pick with her about something I heard come over the radio earlier today.” His gaze paused on Ronnie, who was talking to Coop and Mississippi back by the pool tables.
“She’s around here somewhere. Is Kate’s order ready to go?” Butch asked. When Mac nodded, he picked it up. “I’ll take care of it for her. If she shows up, tell her to come find me.”
“Will do.”
Momentarily caught up on orders, Mac checked on the rest of the folks sitting at the bar. Then he poured himself a Coke and added a splash of Jack Daniels whiskey to it. He stared out at the partiers, locating Claire and then breathing a sigh of relief. The Jack and Coke went down easy, sweet and smooth.
Back in Tucson last night, he’d busted his ass dealing with the crack in the new wall. The temporary fix had forced him to work until early this morning with a small crew earning triple-time pay. Being leaned on by upper management hadn’t helped his stress level.
At one point, he’d stepped aside to take a quick assessment of what needed to be done yet and wondered what in the hell he was doing—with his life, not the wall. The allure of his job had faded over the last six months, in part because he’d opted out of the promotion he’d been working hard to land prior to meeting Claire. That promotion would have included traveling—a lot of traveling—and while Claire had said she’d be willing to go with him, he knew better. Her family was here in Jackrabbit Junction, along with her heart.
Now his future seemed bleak career-wise. It wasn’t because he didn’t take that promotion, though. It was because Claire didn’t really want to be part of the life he’d built in Tucson, which meant spending a lot of days and nights away from her.
As he’d stood there on the jobsite, squinting under the bright halogen work lights, he tried to envision his future with the company and came up empty. There was no future for him there, not if it didn’t include coming home to Claire each evening.
Mac took another drink of his Jack and Coke, watching Claire move from table to table, grabbing empty glasses, talking with the partiers.
Damn. Before she’d crashed into his world, his career was his life. If someone had told him a year ago that a woman would flip his dreams upside down, he’d have laughed.
He blew out a breath. Of all places, why Jackrabbit Junction?
He thought of the view from the front porch of the General Store. Could he handle waking up each day and watching the sunrise over the Tres Dedos Mountains? Would it get old? Mundane?
Claire looked his way, catching him watching her. She smiled and blew him a kiss.
He raised his glass in return, thinking about her in his bed. He’d get to spend night after night with her warm curves pressed up against him under the covers, smelling her skin and the sweet mix of fruity shampoo and honeysuckle blossoms that was Claire. That wouldn’t get old. Neither would sharing meals and moments throughout the day with her.
His gaze drifted to where Butch and Kate were standing over by the jukebox, taking a moment to slow dance together while Bob Seger sang about running against the wind. A cheer over by the pool tables caught his attention. He watched Natalie do the limbo
