Texas Forever (The Tylers of Texas 6)

“That’s right. He stopped at a diner off the first exit. As soon as the news came on, and he heard they were looking for him, he turned around and headed back.”

“That’s what he told me,” Pearl said. “But here’s the thing. After Luke was picked up and booked the first time, the sheriff faxed a copy of his driver’s license to the Plainview police. They took the picture to that diner to confirm that he’d been there. Nobody in the place remembered seeing him or his rig.”

“No!” Erin stared at her. “He said he was there! Why would he lie when he knew it would be checked?”

“You tell me,” Pearl said. “I called the TV station. The first news about the crime came on at one o’clock that day. If we can place Luke in Plainview at the time of that broadcast, he’s in the clear. If not, he’s in trouble.”

Erin shook her head in disbelief. “Something’s wrong. Could the police have gone to the wrong diner?”

“There’s only one. It’s called Sam and Edna’s and it’s not a chain. There’s a water tower behind the parking lot. The Plainview police confirmed the name and the exit number. There was no mistake.”

“No surveillance cameras?”

“One. But it was broken weeks ago and never fixed.”

“Something else, then.” A black cat jumped onto Erin’s lap. She stroked it absentmindedly, her thoughts churning. A mistake had been made—but how? The answer could literally mean the difference between life and death for Luke.

“What about the time?” she said. “Luke was there at one o’clock—maybe a few minutes before, enough time to order. By the time the police got there with his driver’s license it would have been later in the afternoon. What if the shift changed? Different servers and probably different customers . . . ?”

“Bingo.” Pearl was smiling. “That’s just what I was thinking. That’s why I called the place before you came. The diner is open round the clock. The morning shift is from five o’clock to one.”

“So someone could’ve seen Luke before the shift change. How do we find out?”

Pearl rose to her feet, leaning on her cane. “Just one way, honey. I don’t drive anymore. But you do. If we go now, and maybe break a few speed limits, we should be able to make it before the shift change. Are you with me?”

Erin dumped the black cat off her lap and stood. “We’ll need a picture,” she said.

“No problem. I’ve got a copy of his mug shot from the jail. Just let me grab my purse and lock up.”

* * *

Once they hit the freeway, Erin stomped on the gas pedal. The old station wagon had been well maintained over the years, but it had never been built for speed. She pushed it as hard as she dared. Maybe this trip would turn out to be a waste of time. But the shift change was the only idea that made sense. Anything that could free Luke was worth a try.

But over the past few days, as she’d grown older and sadder, one thing had become clear. Even if she could save Luke, she couldn’t own him. As Pearl had described him, he was like a caged lion. And there were many kinds of cages. Luke loved her in his way. But he also loved his freedom.

The drive to Plainview took less than three hours. Pearl chatted most of the way, talking about her years as a prosecutor in Chicago. She’d had some amazing experiences, but Erin was too distracted to listen closely. Her heart drummed in her ears, blurring the sound of Pearl’s voice, as she watched for the Plainview exit sign.

Her pulse kicked to a gallop as she swung the car onto the off-ramp. Where the road leveled off, she could see the diner on the right, and the water tower behind it. A couple of long-haul semis were parked on the far side. SAM AND EDNA’S. She could see the sign out front as she pulled into a space. The dashboard clock said 12:46.

Erin helped Pearl out of the car. The peak lunch hour was ending as they came up the sidewalk. A man who looked like a truck driver held the door for them to go in. Erin thanked him.

The counter, where Luke had claimed to have sat, was empty. Pearl sank onto a stool and fumbled in her red purse for the photo she’d brought.

The waitress behind the counter, whose name badge read Marge, appeared to be about fifty, with graying hair pulled up into a bun. She looked tired, but still managed a friendly smile. “What can I get you?” she asked.

“Nothing right now.” Pearl laid Luke’s photos, showing him face-on and in profile, on the counter. “We’re hoping someone here remembers this man. He claims to have been here about this time on Friday.”

Marge took the photo. “Oh, heavens, yes!” she exclaimed. “How could I forget that face, and those eyes? But these are mug shots. What on earth has he done?”

“Nothing,” Pearl said. “That’s what I’m here to prove. Can you tell me everything you remember about him?”

“Let’s see . . . I want to get this right.”

“Do you mind if I record your statement?” Pearl fished a small, old-style cassette recorder out of her purse. “If what you say can be verified, you’ll be saving a man’s life.”

“Really? Uh . . . sure.” Marge suddenly looked self-conscious.

“It’s all right,” Pearl said. “Just say what you remember. I’ll help if you get stuck.” She switched on the machine.