Page 77 of Every Which Way

Bruce lifted up to look at her over the roof. “That’s Amara?”

“Yep.”

Amara groaned. “Kenna?”

“Sorry to break up the party. Time to go. Can you walk?” She gathered her mom out of the car. “I can’t carry you.”

“I know.” Amara tugged on Kenna’s shoulder and stood, leaning on the car. “Let’s go.”

“Bruce?” She helped her mom walk. With each step, Amara was more able to carry her own weight until she was walking on her own.

“Got her. She’s out cold.”

Stairns pulled up at the curb, and the sirens a street over got louder.

Amara said, “We should put her in the trunk, or she’ll kill all of us.”

ChapterTwenty

Amara turned to look out the window. “A rest stop?”

Kenna sat beside her on the back seat. They’d circled around, and Bruce had jumped in his vehicle, thankfully remaining behind them. For the sake of speed, they’d taken Amara’s advice and dumped the other woman in the trunk of the car.

“Good place to talk and no one will look twice at us,” Kenna said.

In the parking spot next to them, Bruce shoved the driver’s door open and got out. She saw a gun in his waistband for a second before he moved his jacket to cover it.

Langford had called twice, but Kenna didn’t answer. She sent the detective a text now and told her she’d connect later about Chief Hadley’s death but was working a lead right now.

The detective probably wasn’t happy with that answer.

Kenna got out, motioning for Amara to slide over to her. “Come this way.”

Her mother—because she’d always thought of this woman that way, even if she’d been dead all these years—didn’t say anything. They went to the front entrance of the diner. A semi honked its horn, passing the rest stop but not pulling in. The parking lot had a line of semis and RVs, cars in rows, trucks and SUVs pulling vacation trailers. Families. Singles. The place bustled with people.

“Hopefully, we’ll get a table.”

Amara stopped by the door, flushed and a little rumpled but otherwise fine. “I’ll talk to you, but yourfriendsaren’t part of our business.”

Kenna held the door and glanced at Stairns who waved off any concern she might’ve had. He said, “We’ll be close, and we’ll keep an eye on the trunk. Make sure we don’t lose anything.”

The hostess took them to a table by the window, and Stairns and Bruce to the one behind it. Amara slid in, her chin up. Looking like the lady of the manor, which wasn’t really necessary in a place where half the people in the restaurant had recently showered in the gas station next door. Who would sleep tonight in the cab of their vehicle and didn’t mind that the coffee smelled burned.

Kenna ordered a plate that came with two eggs, bacon, potatoes covered in country gravy, and a slice of toast on the side—not that she would eat the toast. Amara asked for oatmeal.

“The woman you picked up? She killed her husband earlier today. Tied him to a chair and tortured him.” Kenna took a sip of coffee, then added another little half-and-half pod to it.

“She’s a means to an end, that’s all you need to know.”

“I get that you don’t want me in your business, but you’re not seeing that we could help each other.”

Amara said, “You think I’m going to sign up for your team? I’ve been doing this alone for nearly three decades.”

“Yeah. Me, too.” She tried not to get irritated. “Only I thought you were dead, and there was no hope I’d ever see you. Turned out you just didn’t want to see me.”

Amara took a sip from the water glass on the table. “There’s no point in dwelling on the past. It was impossible for me to see you. Much easier for you to believe I was dead.”

That was her justification? “Dad saw you. Why was that not too much of a risk?”

---