Cain splashed cold water on her face, dressed, and went out to eat breakfast, choosing the same diner where she’d picked at her dinner.
She sat at the counter and looked around the place. It was mostly elderly people having their coffee, bacon and eggs, toast, and grits. Working-class folks like her, and as unlike her as it was possible to be. Some were clearly old enough to have been here when she had been living with the Atkinses. The sign outside said the diner had been here since 1960, so it was here long before she’d been born.
Could any of these people have helped her? Could they have found out about her? How could people keep someone prisoner in a place like this and no one know about it? Although Cain had read of a man in Ohio who had kept women prisoners in his house smack in the middle of a neighborhood. How the hell had that happened? Did people just not give a shit?
“Hope you enjoy your breakfast better than you did your dinner, hon.”
Cain looked up into the face of the same waitress from last night. “Yeah, I’m pretty hungry, so I think I will.”
She ordered, and when the waitress brought the food back over Cain said, “I was wondering, do you remember anyone named the Atkinses who used to live around here? They’d be around your age.”
“You mean Wanda and Len Atkins?”
“Yeah, that’s right.”
The wrinkled face crinkled into a sad smile. “Well, that takes me way back, hon. I was good friends with Wanda. My husband, God rest his soul, and Len were in the VFW together. They’ve been gone a long time. They left after their son got killed.”
Cain feigned surprise. “Really, he got killed?”
The waitress put her elbows on the counter and leaned down. “Joe Atkins was murdered. And his wife, Desiree, did it. I’m as sure of that as you’re sitting right there. She lit out after it happened and no one’s seen her since. And she was one strange lady. Sadistic, if you ask me. I saw her deliberately run over a dog with her truck. How sick is that?”
“Pretty sick. So she’s gone, too?”
“Oh, yeah, years ago. How do you know the Atkinses? You said you weren’t from here.”
“I think my dad knew Mr. Atkins somehow. When I told them I was going to be passing through here he told me to look them up. I guess Mr. Atkins had told my dad that he lived in Crawfordville, but my dad didn’t know if they were still here or not.”
“Well, like I said, they moved away a long time ago.”
“He’ll be disappointed. I think he wanted to get back in touch.”
The woman pursed her lips in thought. “Oh, wait a minute, where’s my brain? I can help you out.”
“How?”
The waitress pulled out her phone. “Wanda and me exchange Christmas cards. Hell, I got her address in my phone right here. She and Len are over in Alabama now, Huntsville.”
She held out her phone with the contact showing, and Cain took a picture of it with her phone.
“Wow, thank you so much. This will make my dad’s day.”
“Old friends are sometimes the best friends. And in this day and age, we need all the friends we can get.”
Yes we do, thought Cain. I hope to find one someday.
CHAPTER
24
A BATTERED KEN BUCKLEY lay in the hospital bed, still unconscious. A monitor showing his precarious vital signs was set on a rolling stand next to the bed. The surgeon had addressed as many of the injuries as he could in the short time period, but there was more to be done, and Ken was not out of the woods yet. The fact that he was still not conscious was most problematic.