She took a bathroom break, walked back to the ladies’ room, thankfully empty, locked the door, and called Griffin.

“Griffin, it’s Anna. As you can imagine, this place is buzzing about the shooting, but nothing’s gotten out yet. Dr. Hayman’s here, and I know his main reason for coming was to ask me why Delsey hadn’t been in class today. Please tell me she’s safe in Washington.”

“She’s fine, all moved in at Savich’s house.”

“I’m so glad she’s away from here. As you can imagine, everyone is talking about the shooting, and you wouldn’t believe some of the stories.”

“I’ve heard some myself. Thank you for allowing me to tell Dix and Ruth that you were DEA and here undercover. Dix called your boss, told him what had happened. Brannon asked him to keep the details quiet, if possible, and so Dix threatened physical damage if anyone leaked anything about the gang member being shot to anyone, spouses included. Your boss wants to keep the gangs out of it for as long as possible.”

She wondered if Mac Brannon had cursed loud and long when he got a dawn call from the sheriff of Maestro. “Do you know who the dead guy is?”

Griffin said, “Yeah, thanks to the MS-13 neck tattoo, it wasn’t hard. His name was Raul Alvarez, out of Fairfax County. Low-level drug conviction, assault, two murder charges that didn’t stick. He had a hard-as-nails rep, took care of business. Turns out Brannon called Savich after he found out what happened here to tell him they’ve rounded up half of Raul’s homeboys for questioning, see if they can lead us to the accomplice we saw running down the alley at the B&B last night. It seems likely whoever was with Raul last night was also involved in killing your partner. With all the attention they’re getting, I can’t see anybody in that gang trying to move drugs anytime soon.”

“Yes, that’s what Mr. Brannon told me. So there’s no break on where the drugs are yet?”

“As you know, DEA agents are all over this area, a good thirty-mile radius, checking out private farms and questioning locals who live outside of town. Nothing solid yet.”

“And Salazar?”

“Haven’t gotten to him yet.”

“Griffin? I don’t want to be a wuss or an alarmist, but I know to my gut that something’s going to happen and I’m going to be outed.”

He was silent a moment. “Respect your gut. Leave now, Anna. Call your boss.”

“No, no, I’ll wait to call him from home. My shift’s over soon.”

She sensed he wanted to argue, but he didn’t. “Okay, then, I’ll meet you when you get off.”

She was picking up orders again when Henry Stoltzen waved to her. He slid into a booth across from a front window. He sat alone and silent, and fingered his long goatee.

She delivered an order and went to his table. He looked tired, she thought, and sad. “Hey, Henry, you okay?”

“Delsey’s gone,” he said. There was sudden silence in the diner. “She’s gone, and she didn’t even say good-bye. And she could have gotten killed last night.”

Dr. Hayman turned slightly on his burgundy vinyl seat. He asked in his deep voice, “Do you know where Ms. Freestone went, Mr. Stoltzen?”

Henry said, “Old Man Chivers told me she flew out from Judge Hardesty’s Airfield early this morning in a small search-and-rescue plane. He said you and Agent Hammersmith were waiting there with her, Anna, and you saw her off.”

Her heart dropped to her sneakers, and both of them were hovering over the edge of the abyss. Chigger Chivers—where had the old coot been hiding? She and Griffin hadn’t seen a soul. Why hadn’t he come out to talk to them? Had he overheard them talking? Oh, yes, for sure, no doubt in her mind. He’d heard every single thing out of their mouths.

She was fully aware of Dr. Hayman staring at her. Would he pin her on the lie? If he did, what would she say?

She knew everyone was staring at her now, whispering behind their hands, and Dr. Hayman sat there drumming his fingers on the table, simply looking at her, his expression curiously blank. The three women with him at the table were also silent, their eyes on her, along with everyone else’s in the diner who’d heard her lie.

She ignored all of them, stopped to take an order from the elderly bookkeeper at the Holcombe bank who played Santa Claus at the hardware store.

To her surprise and relief, Dr. Hayman left with the gaggle of graduate students without touching his sweet tea. He paused for a moment at the door and looked back at her, shook his head, and left. She served Henry a glass of soda and watched him run his fingers down the outside of the glass. Finally, he let out a dramatic sigh.