A half minute passed before Cade followed. Well, that explained a whole hell of a lot. And he heard more behind it. He would have bet the farm that the CO had simply been the final straw.
The place was crowded when he stepped inside, mostly younger men who were talking about the day’s search party. DeeJay had somehow claimed a booth by the window, and he slid in across from her. The place was jumping, filled with voices, clattering crockery. He heard worry in the voices, but he heard anger, too. These men were ready to take the law into their own hands.
He looked across the table at DeeJay and saw her knuckles were almost white as she gripped the menu. She felt it, too, and was wondering what they could possibly do to help tone it down. Nothing. Not a thing. He could see her reach the same conclusion. He pulled out his cell phone and called the sheriff. He got the dispatcher, a crusty old crone with a froggy voice. “Tell Gage the writers are at the diner, but it might be wise for him to show up here pretty quick.”
DeeJay surprised him. “Good call,” she said.
The place was a cauldron, and it was getting ready to bubble over. Mavis swung by, dumping two cups and filling them with coffee before hurrying on. Breakfast was apt to take a while.
Then it happened. A male voice, right at the end of their booth, loud and challenging. “You those writers? You going to make yourselves famous on our problems?”
DeeJay barely looked up. He gave her credit for that. “We don’t write that kind of stuff.”
“No?” The guy leaned in. “Then what kind of crap do you write?”
In one smooth movement, DeeJay slid out of the booth and faced the guy. She was almost as tall as he was, and in that instant Cade glimpsed the MP, someone who could walk into a rowdy bar and take control.
“No,” DeeJay said firmly, loud enough to be heard in much of the suddenly quieting diner. “We want to make your town look good. As long as you don’t give me a reason to feel otherwise. Now we’re both real sorry about the missing boy. But we’re travel writers.”
Cade enjoyed the show. It wasn’t her words—it was her tone of voice and the way she stood. If that was command presence, she had it in spades.
The guy who had challenged her seemed to change his mind. “Sorry for disturbing your coffee, ma’am. We’re all just real upset.”
“I can understand that. You’re good neighbors.” Then she slid back into the booth.
Cade wondered if he’d get his head bitten off if he complimented her. He was still trying to decide when she said something surprising.
“Thanks for letting me handle that,” she said.
“You did great. Never doubted it.”
She shook her head a little. “Much as I hate to admit it, sometimes a woman has an advantage. Men don’t usually want to hit me first. But you’re a big guy. If you’d stood up, he would have felt challenged.”
“You’re right.” He didn’t tell her he’d have handled it without standing up at all. He was absolutely sure if he did, she’d take it wrong. Maybe he was learning a little about how to handle the prickly pear. Regardless, she’d done well and he was impressed.
Just then a piercing whistle cut through the room. Cade swiveled his head and saw that Dalton stood just inside the door, in full uniform, his jacket open so that the pistol on his hip was both visible and easy to reach.