Chapter 8

I’d found The Diner on accident while doing surveillance in the area about four years ago. It was the epitome of a stereotypical greasy spoon, but the food was outstanding. Millie owned the place and still waited tables. She prided herself on her home-cooked tasting meals. She had to be in her late sixties, but you’d never know it by her attitude and her energy.

The place was nearly empty when we walked in. We’d missed the early diners, and beaten the late rush. Millie was bustling behind the counter, but she looked up when the bell over the door jingled. Her face broke into a huge grin.

“Sit anywhere you like. I’ll be with you in a moment.”

I nodded to acknowledge her statement, then led Brandon to my favorite table in the back corner. I liked that I could sit with my back against the wall and see everything. I pulled out the chair on the outside of the table, and motioned for Brandon to sit before I took my own seat.