The FBI Thrillers Collection Books 1-5 - Catherine Coulter [331]
Molly didn’t move. “Em, did you see the two men that came to the cabin?”
“Not really.”
“So you wouldn’t recognize them?”
“No, Mama, but Ramsey would.”
“That’s right, I would. Go, Molly. There’s no time for any more discussion. If they’re the guys I’ll be out as soon as I can, probably walking really fast.”
“You made a joke, just like Mama does.”
“Maybe.”
Molly gave him a final long look, grabbed her purse, kept her attention on Emma, and walked with her to the back of the small restaurant, through the doorway. Slowly, Ramsey turned around just as he raised his hand to the waitress. They were standing with their backs to him. One was tall and thin, the other short. He couldn’t tell if he was bowlegged or not. He didn’t think they were the same guys who’d come to the cabin. How could they be? He’d shot both the bastards. He didn’t have his Smith & Wesson. The restaurant was pretty crowded. He prayed the men wouldn’t do anything stupid.
The waitress smiled down at him. He said without looking at her, “Is there a back way out of here?”
“Yeah, there’s a back door just beside the men’s room.”
“Good. How much do I owe you?”
She wrote down a couple of more things, frowned as she added, then ripped off the paper and handed it to him, saying, “You guys didn’t eat all that much so I took a bit off the bill.”
“That’s really nice of you. My wife was feeling a bit on the edge. She’s pregnant.”
“Oh, well, congratulations. It happens to the best of us, getting sick that is.”
“Hey, Elsa, how’s tricks?”
The guy looked like a cowboy with a gut. He was standing behind the waitress. Ramsey couldn’t see his face because Elsa was large, had very big hair, and was standing squarely between them. But it wasn’t one of the men at the cabin. He didn’t know whether to be relieved or worried over a possible new threat.
“I’m mean and pretty as ever,” she said, turning to face the man, blocking Ramsey’s view of him. “You’re new, aren’t you? You move here or something?”
“Yeah. Me and the missus came down from Wyoming. Nice around here.”
“Yeah. You want some lunch, then go sit with your friend at that booth.” She pointed with the pencil then stuck it behind her ear.
“Hey, mister, what happened to that pretty little girl I was smiling at?”
Ramsey slowly rose. Elsa stepped out of the way, alarm suddenly hitting her brain. Ramsey towered over the man, who was middle-aged, losing the war to fat, and looked as sincere and nice as Ted Bundy had probably looked.
“Hey, buddy, that your kid?”
“Yes, she’s my kid. Why do you want to know?”
“No reason. She’s just cute, like one of my little granddaughters.”
Ramsey handed the waitress a twenty, saying to both of them, “Have a good day. Bye now.” He went to the front door, but not before he looked for the other man. He didn’t see him. Not seeing him bothered him a lot more. Where was the bastard?
His gut was dancing double time. He looked back again. There was no single guy in the restaurant. Why had the man wanted to know about Emma?
It was then he heard the screech of brakes. He was out the door in an instant to see Molly backing up the Jeep, then slamming on the brakes again to miss a parked pickup truck, by about four inches. He saw a man running toward her. She gunned the engine and the Jeep shot forward. The man shouted and dived into the scrawny bushes that lined the wall of the restaurant.
“Molly!”
He grabbed the passenger door, pulled it open, and jumped in.
She was onto the entrance ramp to the 70 before he even got the door closed.
He looked back to see the man dusting off his pants, staring after them. Then the man he’d been speaking to came out. The two men conferred, heads bent close. He lost sight of them as Molly veered onto the 70, tires screaming.
“Ramsey.”
He heard the small voice and looked down. Emma was