Hijack in Abstract (A Cherry Tucker Mystery) Read Free Page B

grabbed Luke’s sleeve. Luke slid onto a stool and leaned in to hear the man’s story.
    I held out my coffee cup to my bottle red-haired waitress. “Did you see that picture the deputy is showing around?”
    She nodded and poured. “Yeah, don’t think I’ve seen him before.”
    “Heard about a robbery around here? Of a truck? At the rest stop?”
    “No. What like a hijack?” Her hazel eyes gleamed, and she set the coffee pot on the table for a chitchat.
    “Probably a hijack,” I said. “At our interstate rest stop. That’s all I know. I’m curious, though. Not like we get a lot of hijacks around here.”
    “No kidding? Truckers will sleep at that rest stop. Ones on a long haul, you know. Sometimes they’ll come out to the Gearjammer for a bit of fun. Me and my girlfriend have some good times there.”
    “That’s over in Line Creek, right? I’ve not been to that particular establishment.”
    “Sugar, you should go. Them truckers are a lot of fun. We dance and they buy us drinks. Sometimes other stuff. They sure know how to party,” she giggled and glanced over her shoulder. “Oh, you’re with that cop. Never mind. He’s cute, though.”
    “I am not with that cop,” I said, directing my gaze to the broad shoulders enveloped in the starchy, brown uniform. “Not anymore, anyway. I’ve never hung out with truckers, but that sounds like the kind of fun I could use in my recently single state. I don’t suppose truckers are art appreciators?”
    Ponytail picked up her coffee pot. “Some of them have unique art on their cabs. And there’s always the mud flaps.”
    “I did pick up some good brushes at a detail shop once,” I said. “Okay, I’m in. What’s your name anyway?”
    “Dona Sullens. Thursday night is ladies’ night. Mixed drinks are free for the gals.”
    “I’ll see you there,” I said. “Might bring my sister, too.”
    She frowned. “Don’t bring too many girls. I don’t want an unbalanced ratio.” Her ponytail bobbed behind her as she wandered back to the counter. Approaching Luke and his grizzled friend, she stopped and shoved a coffee pot between them. Luke held his hand up, hopped off his stool, and strolled back to our booth.
    “Food’s not here yet?” Luke slid onto the seat opposite me. He picked up his coffee, sipped, and curled the corner of his mouth. “Cold.”
    I felt eager to get beyond Luke’s earlier rebuff and soothe the tension between us. I tuned my voice to casual and disinterested. “Did that guy on the end know anything?”
    “No,” Luke set his coffee down. “That’s Clinton Hackley. He’s a couple fuses short of running on full power. Poor guy.”
    “You’re getting to know a lot of people on the job, aren’t you? And a different picture of Forks County than what you grew up in, I’m sure.”
    “A high schooler’s view of their world is pretty limited. Especially if your stepdad is a Branson.” The Branson family had ruled our little neck of the woods for generations. My Grandpa’s family, the Ballards, had been around as long as the Bransons, except we didn’t have as much to show for it.
    “I couldn’t wait to get out of this backwater,” Luke mused. “Funny how your view changes when you come back. Of course, now much of my meet and greet’s done from a patrol car.”
    “It’s not so bad here in Backwater, Georgia,” I smiled as a plate full of waffle and bacon slid in front of me. “Thanks, Dona.”
    “Sure honey,” she said. “See you Thursday night.”
    “What’s Thursday night?” asked Luke.
    “I’m meeting Dona and her friends down at the Gearjammer. For Ladies’ Night.”
    “You know Dona?”
    “Nope. But she seems nice.”
    Luke ran his hands through his curls, massaging his head. “Isn’t the Gearjammer a trucker hangout?”
    “Could be,” I shrugged. “Never been there. I’m always up for trying something new.”
    He laid an arm on the table. “We’ve been through this before. Just because Sheriff