CHAPTER SIXTEEN
My first stop was the local diner. Baker City’s a smallish town, so I figured it would be like all the small towns I’d seen in the movies. Everyone goes to the diner for a coffee and pie, right?
I sat at the counter and ordered a decaf, getting the lay of the land before making my first move. I skipped the pie because I didn’t trust my stomach right now; it was way too full of a large contingent of very anxious butterflies. My phone buzzed in my bag, but I ignored it. Bradley or whoever it was would just have to wait until I got some direction.
My first goal was to work up enough nerve to ask some of the most ridiculous questions I’d ever asked in my life. Here’s how I pictured that conversation going:
Me: Do you know Gavin MacKenzie?
Country person: Who’s askin’?
Me: His wife.
Country person: (vacant look) Crickets—
There was no way I was going to be able to track him down without a story. I needed a good story that wouldn’t humiliate both of us. A nice fat lie. I picked up a sugar packet and emptied it into my cup as I thought about my options. I’ll say I’m a lawyer and I’m tracking him down for an inheritance. I frowned at my coffee cup, picking up the teaspoon to stir in the sugar. No, that won’t work. They’ll want to know relatives’ names, and I don’t have anything like that with me. I stirred and stirred and stirred. I’ll say he’s won some money in a contest. No, that’s stupid. What am I . . . Publisher’s Clearing House? I shook my head, grabbing more sugar. I ripped the packet open sloppily, spraying small white crystals all over the counter. I’ll say that I’m a relative from another city and I’m tracing my genealogy.
“How’re you doing over here?” asked a woman’s voice. My waitress was staring at me from behind the counter, waiting for my response.
The words came flying out before I could stop them. “I’m looking for Gavin MacKenzie—do you know him?” Oh, shit. Did she say, “How are you doing?” or “What are you doing?” My skin flamed up a burning crimson, and I had to restrain myself from fanning my face with the napkin. I could not believe I just blurted that out. What happened to my kickass plan to play it cool? Argh, I totally hate myself sometimes.
“Of course I know Mack. Everyone knows Mack. But no one calls him Gavin except his mother and his grandmother.” She smiled, the happy emotion not quite making it to her doe-brown eyes. Her name tag said “Hannah.” She was cute, even though her blonde hair was a little too brassy and her skin a little too heavily made up. I guessed her to be a couple inches taller than me and about the same age, maybe a couple years older. The only thing keeping her from being a totally cliché diner waitress was no bubblegum smacking. She reminded me of a country version of Candice. My heart pulled uncomfortably at the thought of my friend. It had been way too long since we’d spoken. I blamed it on work, but Ruby blamed that Bradley.
“Can you tell me where to find . . . Mack?” I asked.
“Who are you, and what do you want to find him for?” She stood there with the coffee pot in her hand, her hip cocked, fully prepared to remain there until I confessed.
My ears burned with the shame of the coming deception. “I’m . . . uh . . . Andie. And I’m looking for him so I can put together my genealogy chart.”
“What’s that? Like a school project or somethin’?”
“Yeah,” I said, a lie sparking up in my mind and quickly turning into a roaring wildfire of bullshit. “I’m taking this special college course, and we’re learning how to put together our family tree and stuff, and his family . . . the MacKenzies . . . they’re in my tree. I think. The MacKenzies of Baker City to be exact.”
A gravelly voice came from behind me, making my hair stand on end with fear.
“Luceo non uro!”
I spun on my stool. “Wha . . . !” I banged my coffee on the way around and sloshed it all over my hand and the counter, but I didn’t bother with cleaning it up because I was too busy worrying that I was about to be eaten by a giant man-bear-pig.
“Luceo non uro!” he yelled again and then laughed. His mouth was completely covered by a gnarly, unkempt beard. I caught glimpses of teeth and tongue, which made me feel just a tad bit safer. The idea of a toothless man-bear-pig somehow scared me more than one with proper dental care. I was obviously not functioning with all my brain cells online.
“Yeah, that’s about right,” said the waitress, snorting a little.
My voice finally started working again when I realized he wasn’t about to attack or eat me. He was just standing there, looking down at me from very high up and speaking Latin. There was a slight chance he was even smiling, but it was impossible to tell with the brown shag carpet he was wearing as face decoration.
I cleared my throat, giving it a little jump-start. “I’m sorry, but what did you say?”
His voice came out gentle then, and smooth. He could have been a book narrator when he wasn’t growling at women in diners. “Luceo non uro. It’s the MacKenzie clan motto.”
“MacKenzie clan?”
He cocked his head. “You know what a clan is, right?”
I gave him my best you-must-be-kidding look to cover up for my ignorance. “Of course I do. Don’t be ridiculous. I’m doing a project.”
“So I heard you say. What school are you attending? It sounds like a very interesting project.” His tone suddenly went from man-bear-pig to cultured academic.
I decided it was a distinct possibility that I’d either fallen into the same rabbit hole as Alice or been slipped something illegal on the flight over. “Just a community college. In Florida where I live. It’s pretty small, I’m sure you’ve never heard of it.”
“Could be I haven’t . . . could be I have, though,” he said, putting his hands behind him and rocking a little on his heels, waiting expectantly. “Won’t know until I hear the name.”
“Palm Beach State College?”
“Are you asking or telling?” he said. His beard moved. I took the upward shifting of the hairy mess as a smile.
“Telling.” I turned partway back to my coffee, using my napkin to dab away at my mess. “So, what was that motto again?”
“Luceo, which means ‘shine’; non, which means ‘not’; and uro, which means ‘burn.’”
“Shine not burn,” I said, almost to myself. Why was that ringing a bell? Why did I think I’d heard that somewhere before?
“Kinda cute, huh?” asked Hannah.
Sounded more sexy than cute to me, but I smiled and nodded anyway. I had to get in good with the locals if I wanted to get this mess taken care of ASAP.
“That where you’re from?” asked Hannah. She set the coffee pot down on the counter in between us. “Florida?” She was ignoring at least three people waving at her for more of the caffeinated goodness.
I nodded. “Yes, I live there. I’m just here for research.”
“Long way to come for research when you coulda just called,” she said, chewing her lip like she was trying to figure me out. It made me nervous to think that Diner Barbie was hot on my trail of lies. I was getting the distinct impression she’d be really happy to bust me.
“Yes, well, I tried to call, but the MacKenzie group is hard to get in touch with that way, apparently.”
“Who’d you try to call?” she asked.
Her questions were taking on an intense mood that made me less inclined to share. “I can’t remember. I don’t have my notes with me.” Lies, lies, and more lies. The leather messenger bag at my feet had exactly one troll doll and everything I’d been able to find on the MacKenzies inside. Unfortunately, all I had for an address was a post office box in the middle of town and a phone number nobody ever answered.
“Why are you looking for Gavin?” she asked. Her tone had taken on a proprietary air, and I realized I could very possibly be looking at Gavin’s other wife, since apparently only special people called him by his given name. What are the chances that I’ve stepped right off the plane into a pile of horse shit? I looked at her slightly mutinous expression and knew the answer. Out here, probably good. Checking her finger, I saw no ring there. I let out a slow breath of relief, hoping she and the man-bear-pig still behind me wouldn’t notice how nervous this conversation was making me.
“I’m headed out to the MacKenzie place if you want to hitch a ride,” said the grizzly man.
I turned back around to face him, but not before catching a scowl move across Hannah’s face.
“Really? That would be great. I could follow you in my car.”
He looked out the front windows of the diner directly at my Smart Car.
“I wouldn’t recommend it,” he said simply.
I imagined myself trapped in a vehicle with this man and decided there were certain risks I was willing to take and others I just wasn’t. “I’ll be fine. That little car has a lot of spunk . . . you’d be surprised.”
“Whatever floats your boat. You ready to go now?”
“But she hasn’t even finished her coffee,” said Hannah. She sounded very upset about it too.
“I can wait,” said the man.
I stood. “No need. I put too much sugar in it anyway.” I put some money down on the counter, enough to cover the coffee and a generous tip. “Thanks, Hannah.”
She frowned at me. “How’d you know my name?”
I looked pointedly at her name tag. “Uhhh, I guessed?”
“I got my eye on you, Abby,” she said in a threatening tone, narrowing her eyes.
“That’s Andie.”
“Let it go, Hannah Banana,” said the man-bear-pig, sighing at the end of his plea.
“Shut up, Boog! You don’t tell me what to do anymore, got it? And stop calling me that name.”
I picked up my satchel, very happy to be leaving the unhappy Hannah Banana behind. She obviously had an issue with strangers, so it was time for me to leave. Besides, if I could get lucky and find this MacKenzie place before dinner, I could very possibly be home by noon tomorrow. A grin spread across my face as I pictured myself sewing this little problem up and tucking it away in a little box no one would ever find.
“Come on, follow me. I’m in the blue truck out there. We’ve got about a thirty-minute drive ahead of us.”
I stopped walking as his words sank in. “Thirty minutes?” I asked.
He didn’t answer. He just went out the door of the diner, leaving me to follow.