POACH

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POACH - book excerpt

Chapter 1

Lacey

“Where in the hell is that girl, anyway?” Gwen Lindstrom asked Mack as she flipped over the sign in the restaurant window from closed to open.

The dark sky had just begun to lighten, but at the early hour, dawn had not yet brightened the shallow valley where Dubois, Wyoming, lay.

Mack shrugged. “Second time this week she’s been late, right?” he asked Gwen through the opening cut in the wall between the restaurant’s dining area and the kitchen. He was cleaning the already spotless grill, getting it ready for the breakfast crowd soon to wander in for crisp bacon, over-easy eggs, and tender pancakes. “I still think you need to drug test her. Or you could just fire her for being late. You’ve done that for lesser things.”

“I would, but the summer tourist season has started, and waitress pickings are thin,” Gwen explained, reaching into the fridge for squeeze bottles of the hot, homemade salsa the Café was famous for.

The girl they talked about was Lacey Stevens, but she wasn’t really a girl since she was in her twenties. She had wandered in a month earlier looking for work. Gwen had taken pity on Lacey. She was a skinny little thing, shorter than Gwen’s five-foot-five, and looked like it had been a long time since she’d had a decent meal. Still, her appearance was clean and neat, and her long dark hair was pulled back into a tidy ponytail. And Gwen was short-handed with Michelle on maternity leave, and most likely not coming back.

Gwen had told Lacey, “I have a spot open on the morning shift. We open at 6 a.m. That means you need to be here and ready to go before 5:45. Understand?”

Lacey nodded her agreement.

Gwen went on, “Your hair’s good pulled back like that and I guess the purple is okay.” It looked like the bottom half of the girl’s dark hair had been dipped into purple dye. On Lacey, the look worked. Plus, did she have the standing to protest hair? Gwen fingered her earlobe with its row of earrings that ran from the top of her ear to the bottom of the lobe. She wouldn’t begrudge the girl the purple. “But,” Gwen continued, “you’ll need to cover that.” She pointed to the tattooed sleeve on Lacey’s left arm that ran from just above her wrist up to where it disappeared under the pushed-up sleeve of her baggy sweater.

“I have a long-sleeved shirt I can wear,” Lacey had told her, and at that Gwen hired her.

For three weeks, Lacey had arrived before the designated time and ready to work. No doubt she was a hard worker, although her nervous manner and the fact that she was always fretting, moving, and fidgeting was quite a contrast from Michelle’s heavy-bellied cautious way. And, Lord, how easily the girl was distracted. A truck would rumble into the lot and Lacey, in the middle of taking a customer’s order, would stare out the window until the driver shut off the motor.

Just then the door opened, and Lacey rushed in.

“Sorry, sorry,” she told Gwen as she zoomed past her on her way to the back room for an apron.

Before Gwen could open her mouth to say anything, Lacey was gone, the door to the back room swinging in her wake.

Mack held up two fingers, telling Gwen twice in one week.

The first time Lacey was late, she had come in with a black eye, the makeup she applied failing to hide the bruise. Gwen had reminded Lacey that she needed to get there before 5:45 but, seeing the damage, she didn’t have the heart to scold her.

“I’m so sorry. I know this is the second time, but I promise it won’t happen again,” Lacey told Gwen after she came back, tying the black apron with Ranchers’ Café stenciled in red above her breast.

The bruise around Lacey’s eye had turned that pukey shade of yellow-green that bruises do after a few days. What caught Gwen’s attention this morning was the darkness smudged under both of Lacey’s eyes. Not a bruise but definitely evidence she hadn’t slept much. Gwen wondered if she had been partying late or was the boyfriend who had most likely smacked her also been responsible for the sleepless night?

Their first customer pulled into the lot, headlights sweeping the inside of the restaurant.

“I’ll talk to you about it later, Lacey. Right now, we have work to do.”

Gwen watched Lacey’s shoulders relax with the reprieve as a second customer pulled into the lot.

The restaurant’s busy breakfast time fell between 6 and 9 a.m. Lacey was even more nervous and twitchy than usual as they waited on the ranch and farm workers who rose early for work first, and then the office staff and salespeople who slipped in for a bite before their workday began. Every time someone drove into the parking lot or opened the squeaky glass door, Lacey’s head jerked toward the noise, a strange expression on her face. Gwen couldn’t decipher the look. Gwen wondered if it was fear, dread, or anticipation.

An unsettling tingle fluttered on the back of Gwen’s neck as if Lacey watched her all morning like a dog that had an accident on the carpet and knew punishment loomed.

At 10:30, with only one couple still eating and unable to stand it anymore, Gwen poured two cups of coffee and motioned Lacey to join her at an empty booth.

“You were late again this morning,” Gwen told her as soon as Lacey sat. “Why was that?” She always believed the direct approach was best. Gwen didn’t give them time to formulate a lie.

Lacey’s hand shook as she poured sugar into her coffee. She quickly set the sugar container back down on the table and tucked her hands under her thighs.

Gwen had grabbed a couple of silverware sets rolled in napkins before she sat down. Now she unrolled one of them, took out a spoon, and laid it on the napkin beside Lacey’s mug. When she looked up from the task, Gwen saw a tear had formed at the corner of Lacey’s bruised eye. Surprised, Gwen took a deep breath and began again, this time in a softer voice.

“I’m not angry,” Gwen went on. “It just seems like you’re upset about something. It’s just you and me working the early shift and if you don’t show up, I’m jacked. Especially now that it’s spring and we have tourists coming through. I need to know what’s going on with you.”

Slowly, eyes on her mug, Lacey took the spoon and stirred the sugared coffee. Gwen had never seen her so still, so nearly motionless. If Lacey were on drugs like Mack suspected she was, could she shift from fidgety to nearly frozen that fast? Gwen wasn’t sure.

Still staring at her coffee, Lacey began. “Donny, that’s my boyfriend, he didn’t come home last night. I was up late waiting for him.”

Oh, good Lord, Gwen thought. She hated the girlfriend-boyfriend drama thing. How many times had she seen it?

This Donny had probably gone off on a bender, and he was sleeping it off in his car or in the bed of some girl he had picked up at the bar. Good riddance. Donny was probably the one who smacked her. Lacey was better off…

“I know what you’re thinking,” Lacey said, interrupting Gwen’s thoughts. “Donny, well, Donny wouldn’t do that, I mean disappear like that. He was going—” Lacey clamped her lips shut. The words she almost said locked up in the vault of her mind. Lacey took a gulp of coffee and squirmed in the seat.

Gwen stayed quiet hoping Lacey would say more. She wanted to quiz Lacey further, but one of the remaining customers waved his coffee mug in their direction and Lacey jumped up to fill it.

Chapter 2: Missing

Lacey arrived promptly at 5:40 a.m. the next morning, tapping on the heavy glass door so Gwen could let her in.

Gwen thought the boyfriend problem had been resolved until she saw Lacey’s face. The bruise was the same yuck yellow and green, but the dark circles under her eyes had deepened. Lacey rushed toward the back room to grab her apron before Gwen had a chance to question her.

Friday mornings were always busy at the Ranchers’ Café. This one was no exception. Lacey worked with her usual ball of quick motion as she took orders, kept the customers’ coffee cups filled, and grabbed breakfast plates as soon as Mack placed them on the counter under the warming lights and dinged the bell. Unlike the day before, she only occasionally startled whenever the door opened, or a diesel truck rumbled into the lot.

Finally, customer traffic slowed. Gwen massaged her tender shoulder, counting the minutes until 2 p.m. when her afternoon manager would take over. That was when Sheriff April Erickson marched through the door.

April was Gwen’s sister-in-law, her late husband’s younger sister. She was tall, nearly six feet, with a strong build, and fair complexion. April and Gabe Lindstrom, Gwen’s late husband, were two peas in a Scandinavian gene pod, and sometimes when Gwen saw April, her heart would give a little ping of sorrow over losing Gabe at such a young age.

Most days, April wore a smile as big as her heart, but not today. She spared a moment to nod hello to Gwen, then turned her laser focus on Lacey.

As April approached her, uniformed with the holstered pistol and accouterments of law enforcement, Lacey froze like a deer hearing the first distant shot of the hunting season.

Gwen moved closer, not in the least bit ashamed to eavesdrop on their conversation.

“You’re Lacey Stevens, right?” April asked.

Lacey nodded, twisting her hands together.

“And you reported your boyfriend, one Donald Myers, missing yesterday?”

Lacey nodded again. She seemed incapable of speech.

April turned and asked Gwen, “Okay if I talk to Ms. Stevens privately for a few minutes?”

“Take whatever time you need. We’re not busy,” Gwen responded, doing her best to hide her disappointment. So much for eavesdropping.

April pointed to the door and then followed Lacey outside.

Ten minutes later, Lacey came back alone and looking upset, eyes red in their dark hollows. Gwen longed to ask if the boyfriend had turned up—most likely in jail—but just then a party of six walked in. Gwen laid a gentle hand on Lacey’s arm and told her to take a few minutes to compose herself and then went to wait on the new customers.

Finally, Marilyn, the evening manager, arrived along with the afternoon wait staff. One of the regular waitresses, Susie, came in earlier to help with lunch so Gwen sent Lacey home after the lunch crowd slowed. When she told her to take off, Lacey had bolted to the back room, already untying the apron. Before the door stopped swinging, she was back through it and rushing toward the restaurant door.

“I’m gonna get some bookwork done,” Gwen told Marilyn after she cashed out a couple who had lingered over lunch.

“What did April want with Lacey?” Mack asked.

Gwen entered the kitchen to pluck a food supplier’s invoice off the bulletin board so she could pay the bill.

“Her boyfriend is still MIA. Seems like she made a missing person report after she left here yesterday.”

“Off on a toot, I suspect,” he replied.

Gwen lifted pot lids, peering in, nostrils twitching a bit. “This one smells good. I saw a lot of servings of it go out. I’m starving.”

“Chicken and dumplings. Grab a bowl and help yourself,” he told her. “Lacey have any clue where her guy went?”

“No. I thought maybe he was sleeping it off somewhere, but according to Lacey, that’s out of character for him.”

Mack snorted.