Chapter 10: The First Threat
Emma went back to work at the Bluebird the next morning. Hawk had argued against it. "Stay home," he had said. "Let things settle." But Emma had shaken her head. She had a shift, and Rosa was counting on her, and Al was counting on her, and besides, she refused to hide. If Malone's men wanted to find her, they would find her anywhere. At least at the diner, she would not be alone.
The morning started quietly. The regulars came in for coffee and eggs. The truck drivers stopped for pie. Rosa worked the counter, and Al worked the grill, and Emma moved between the tables with her order pad, smiling the way she always did. But underneath the smile, she was watching the door. Every time the bell jingled, her stomach tightened.
At eleven o'clock, two men walked in. Emma knew at once that they were not regulars. They wore dark jackets and sunglasses, even indoors. They did not look at the menu. They did not sit down. They walked straight to the counter, and one of them leaned on it with both hands.
"You Emma Carter?" he asked.
Emma set down her coffee pot carefully. "Can I help you?"
"My boss wants to talk to you," the man said. "Victor Malone. He says you have something that belongs to him."
The diner went quiet. The regulars stopped eating. Rosa froze with a plate in her hands. Al came out from behind the grill, wiping his hands on his apron, his face hard.
"She doesn't have anything of yours," Al said. "And you can leave."
The man smiled, a smile that did not reach his eyes. "We're just talking. No need to be rude."
"We're not talking," Al said. "You're leaving."
The second man stepped closer to Emma. "Miss Carter, it would be better for everyone if you handed over the box. Mr. Malone is a reasonable man. He doesn't want trouble. But he wants his property back."
Emma's heart hammered. She thought about the box, safe in the cabin, with copies being made. She thought about her father's voice on the tape. She thought about Hawk's promise. She lifted her chin.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she said. "And I want you to leave."
The man leaned closer. "Think carefully. Accidents happen. Your father had an accident. It would be a shame if something happened to you, or to your mother."
The words landed like a blow. Emma felt the room tilt. But before she could answer, the bell over the door jingled again, and the whole diner seemed to hold its breath.
Hawk walked in, followed by Sarge, Doc, and Preacher. They did not rush. They did not shout. They walked in the way men walk in when they own the room, and they spread out, calmly, between Emma and the two men. Hawk stood beside Emma and put a hand on the counter.
"Gentlemen," he said, his voice low and even. "I believe you were just leaving."
The first man looked at Hawk, then at Sarge, then at Doc and Preacher. His smile faded. He looked at the regulars, who were all watching now, and at Al, who had picked up a phone. He looked at Rosa, who had her arms crossed. He seemed to realize, all at once, that he was outnumbered, and that every person in the room was a witness.
"We'll be back," he muttered.
"No," Hawk said. "You won't."
The two men backed toward the door. They did not run, but they did not linger. The bell jingled, and they were gone. Outside, a car started, and tires crunched on gravel, and then the street was quiet.
For a moment, nobody moved. Then one of the regulars, an old man named Walter who had eaten breakfast at the Bluebird every morning for thirty years, stood up and walked over to Emma. He patted her hand. "You did fine, honey," he said. "This town looks after its own." One by one, the other customers nodded. A truck driver raised his coffee cup in a small salute. A mother with two children smiled at her. Emma felt something warm and solid settle in her chest. These were not just customers. They were her neighbors. They were her town. And they were standing with her. She would not forget it.
Emma let out a breath she had not realized she was holding. Her hands were shaking. Rosa came around the counter and put an arm around her. Al poured her a glass of water. The regulars went back to their meals, talking in low voices, glancing at her with a new kind of respect.
Hawk turned to her. "Are you all right?"
Emma nodded. "I am now."
"You did well," Hawk said. "You stood your ground. Your father would be proud."
Emma looked around the diner, at the people who had stood with her, at the club that had put itself between her and danger. She thought about the box, and the notebooks, and the tape. She thought about the copies being made, and the call to the FBI that would come next. Malone had sent his men to scare her. Instead, he had shown her exactly how much support she had.
Deputy Sheriff Mark Sullivan arrived ten minutes later, called by Al. He took Emma's statement, and Al's, and Rosa's. He wrote down descriptions of the two men and their car. "This was intimidation," he said. "We have witnesses. We'll file a report. If they come back, call me immediately."
After the deputy left, Emma sat in the corner booth with Hawk. The diner had settled back into its rhythm. The coffee machine hissed. The grill sizzled. Life went on.
"They'll try again," Emma said.
"Maybe," Hawk said. "But they'll find the same thing every time. You are not alone, Emma. You never were."
Emma looked out the window at the street. The sun was shining. The mountains stood clear against the sky. She felt afraid, yes, but she also felt something else, something she had never felt before. She felt strong. And for the first time since this had begun, she believed that they were going to win.