Page 48 of Sins of the Fathers
Fifteen minutes later, they sat in a back booth under the relentlessly bright fluorescent lights that were as much of a trademark as the chain’s glaring yellow signage.
“This is a heart attack on a plate,” Gibson said, shaking his head as he looked at the menu.
“And it’s worth every bite,” Tucker replied enthusiastically.
“I call it a reward for a hunt gone right.” Grady looked up as the server came and ordered coffee for all of them. “I’m not going to worry about cholesterol when there are rougarous out there.”
Grady ordered smothered hash browns with bacon, while Dawson had his usual pecan waffles. Tucker grinned like it was Christmas as he ordered steak and eggs, and Gibson had two eggs over easy with buttered toast.
“Life is short,” Tucker said with a mouthful of steak as he stole a slice of bacon from Gibson’s plate. “Never pass up bacon.”
“You’ll have to excuse him,” Gibson said with a fond sigh. “He gets sentimental over pork products.”
Dawson suspected that his ravenous hunger came from the same place as the horniness that often followed a hunt.Proof of life.It didn’t matter that he could still smell the gasoline and taste it in the back of his throat, or that he’d be blowing ash-tainted snot from his nose for days. Right here, right now, they were alive, and they’d saved Knox’s store—and a chunk of downtown Kingston.
That made it a good night.
“We’re going to run that guy’s data through our systems,” Gibson said, dropping his voice. “Not that I don’t trust your local cops, but—”
“He doesn’t,” Tucker finished for him. “Might be wrong, but a little paranoia is good for the lifespan.”
“Unlike bacon,” Gibson returned.
“Bite me.”
Gibson sighed. “Can’t take him anywhere.”
Outside, the storm had picked up, driving the rain against the diner’s large windowpane-walls and whistling across the roof.
“No need to hurry eating—unless you want to drown on the way to the car,” Grady said. “At least there’s no chance of the fire re-igniting.”
Dawson sipped his coffee. “Why do you think they went after the hardware store instead of the auto body shop? Seems like a strange choice.”
Gibson sat back in the booth and cradled his cup in his hands. “Not if the grudge comes down through his grandfather and father.” He leveled his gaze at Grady. “Which means you need to keep your guard up. Maybe you’re thinking about this all wrong.”
“What do you mean?” Dawson asked, worried.
“You’re looking at it as a vendetta against the Kings. Maybe it’s really a grudge against the Richardsons,” Gibson replied.
Grady caught his breath. Dawson slipped his hand beneath the table to twine their fingers together in support.
“But my parents were killed too. And they weren’t Richardsons,” Dawson challenged. Even as he spoke, he guessed the answer.
Dad and Mom picked up on Frank Richardson’s case. They got too close, and that sealed their fate. So it was the Richardson connection.
Grady pushed his food away, half-eaten.
Tucker gave him a look. “Not hungry? You barely ate?”
“Still a little nauseous from the smoke, I guess.”
Dawson knew Grady was lying, and he had a good idea why. That topic would have to wait until they were alone. He turned back to the two agents.
“Now what? The asshole who tried to burn the store talked like SPS. They don’t like us much because we side with the humans when someone with abilities goes too far,” Dawson said. “Are you going to take the guy into federal custody?”
“Probably not, but I want a crack at questioning him,” Gibson replied. “Ophelia’s covered her tracks well, but someone, somewhere, knows something—and we’ll find it, eventually.”
The sun still hadn’t risen by the time they finished their food and paid the bill. The rain eased to a drizzle, but dark clouds suggested a downpour could happen again at any minute. Dawson had seen the predictions, and the weather for the next few days would be lousy. Gibson drove them back to where Dawson had left the Mustang parked. The cops and fire trucks were long gone, but the smell of smoke still hung in the air despite the rain.
