Stranger in Town - By Cheryl Bradshaw Page 0,10
the beginning, where it all happened.”
She wasn’t listening anymore. Her attention had been diverted to the exterior of the hotel. She waved her hand in front of her. “This is the best you could do?”
“What’s wrong with it?” I said.
“I’m in charge of making the reservations from now on.”
I shrugged.
“I’m not sure they have five-star hotels in this town. You might be on vacation, I’m not. Five-hundred-thread-count sheets won’t help me find two lost girls.”
She smiled.
“Yeah, but getting good sleep might.”
I glanced at the time on my phone. “I need to run into town really quick.”
“Can’t it wait until morning?”
I shook my head.
“I want to stop by the grocery store before they close.” I snapped Boo’s leash on his collar and handed it to her. “There’s a pool. And a Jacuzzi. You’ll be fine.”
A black Dodge Ram circled the parking lot and then exited without stopping. Normally, it would have flown under my radar, but the black grille guard on the front caught my eye. I’d seen a similar truck before in the McDonald’s parking lot the day before when I met with Noah Tate. But the Dodge hadn’t even slowed as it passed by, and there was no reason for me to believe I was being followed. Not yet. I shook it off. After all, I was in Wyoming where trucks were a dime a dozen. Right?
CHAPTER 8
The lights inside Maybelle’s Market were still on when I arrived, and according to the sign in the window, I had twenty minutes before they closed. I was determined to make the most of it.
A young girl about the age of eighteen was politely giving instructions to a coworker when I walked in. She wore a red apron with the store’s name embroidered on the front. When I walked by, she looked at me and smiled, showcasing a mouth full of perfectly positioned porcelain veneers. They reminded me of white Chicklet’s gum and were so bright I couldn’t look away no matter how hard I tried.
“Can I help you?” she said.
“Is the manager here?”
She thumbed to the right. “He’s in his office. Is everything all right?”
I nodded.
“I just wanted to ask him a few questions.”
“I can get him for you if you want.”
“How long have you worked here?” I said.
She paused for so long I thought I was going to be given the actual date and time right down to the last second.
“I kinda grew up here. My dad owns the store.”
“So you’re a Maybelle?”
Her laugh made me feel like I’d missed out on an inside joke. “Maybelle’s isn’t our last name. The store was named after Myra Maybelle Shirley, a famous outlaw. They used to call her “The Bandit Queen.” When my grandpa first opened the store, all he sold was coffee and that type of thing. He passed the store down to my dad, and now we sell practically everything.”
A man stepped out of a side office, a set of keys swinging from his pointer finger. He glanced at me and then checked the time on his wristwatch. Obviously, he had one thing on his mind: closing the store. He wore a faded white polo shirt that was several sizes too big and a pair of slacks that couldn’t hold their position without a belt. The man walked past us and then stopped. “Is there a problem?”
I shook my head.
“This young lady was just telling me about the history of this place.”
He shooed the girl away with his hand and came closer. “Do you need help finding something? We’re closing in five minutes.”
“I believe I’ve found what I was looking for,” I said.
His eyes searched my empty hands.
“Is there somewhere we can talk for a minute?” I said.
“What about?”
“Olivia Hathaway.”
The man whipped around and speed-walked so fast back into his office I could barely keep up with him. He held the door, ushering me into his office. Once inside, he closed the door, leaning against it like it was a welcome refuge from potential eavesdroppers on the outside.
His office smelled like a combination of an old jock strap and stale food, prompting me to keep our meeting short.
“Is there a problem?” I said.
“Who are you?”
“Not a reporter if that’s what you’re worried about,” I said.
“I’ve never seen you before, and you don’t look like you’re from here.”
I glanced down at my jeans and lavender sweater, wondering what he would have thought if I’d brought Maddie along with me. But he wasn’t eyeing my clothes. He was scrutinizing my Fendi handbag,