I rolled my eyes and shook my head. “Yeah, because right now it’s only highly probable that they’re going to have the cops keeping a lookout for us at the battlefield—but if we’d played our cards right, we could’ve had them calling the Feds to arrest us on the spot. Well, now I’m just sick with disappointment. Maybe, if we run, we can catch up to them and briefly explain our plans.”
“There’s no need to be like that. They seemed cool. And who’s to say that we were going ghost-hunting with this film? For all they know we could be bird-watching.”
“Bird-watching? At night? For what—owls?”
“Yes. That’ll be our story. Owls. Owls, and bats. We’re bat-watchers.”
“You need help.”
Benny shrugged happily. “And food, too. Are you hungry?”
I sighed. Let him be giddy. There was no sense in bringing him down. “Sure. Fine. I could eat. What are you in the mood for?”
“Jimmy’s is right there. Let’s do that. Have you ever eaten there?”
“No, but I’ve gone there for coffee. Do they have regular diner-type food?”
“Yes, and some Greek food too. Good gyros. Let’s go.”
Together we waited for traffic to slow, then skipped across the street. Jimmy’s Diner is something of a local landmark, or at least its location is. Supposedly the chrome and 1950s nook was built to be the very first Krystal hamburger shop in the country. And since Krystal still has its corporate headquarters just a few blocks away, local legend might actually be local history. If it wasn’t the first, it was definitely one of the first.
Inside everything was early space-aged chic—with red vinyl seats, chrome-trimmed tables, and gleaming tile floors. We took a table by a window overlooking the sidewalk. Our waitress was wearing a uniform that could have been seamlessly accessorized with roller skates. She handed us menus and went back behind the bar to get us Cokes.
Right about then my cell phone began to vibrate against a tube of lipstick in my purse, making a buzzing, clanking noise. “Hang on a second,” I advised Benny. I fished the thing free and pressed the lit button.
“Hello?”
“So you went back there? And you didn’t find anything?”
“Oh, there you are…um…” I glanced up at my companion, who was eagerly scanning the plastic-coated menu. No one in my social circle knew about my continued correspondence with my half-brother, of course, so I searched for a greeting that wouldn’t require me to name the caller. “Hey there. Nice to talk to you too, so soon after last we chatted. And it is soon. Too soon for me to have addressed any of your concerns or ideas.”
“Oh.” The word was a two-letter study in dejection. “So you haven’t been out there yet?”
“Don’t be that way—you’ve just got to give me a little time. I promised, didn’t I?”
“Yeah.”
“And I’ll follow through; don’t worry. But some stuff is going on out here right now, and I simply haven’t had a chance to look into it for you…but I will. Probably this coming weekend.”
He was silent for long enough for his pause to be called “awkward.” “You’re not just telling me what I want to hear, are you?”
“No, I am not leading you on. I’d only tell you what you wanted to hear if it happened to be the truth. It’s better than reinforcing a lie.”
“A lot of people would disagree with you.”
“And those people are welcome to mislead others to their hearts’ content. But I’m afraid that I don’t offer any sort of reality discount, even for family. You’re going to have to be satisfied with the facts.”
“But I don’t have any facts to be satisfied with. I don’t even know for sure if she’s alive or dead. At least if she was still there, and if you could talk to her…that would be something. I’d know that much. But I don’t.”
It was my turn to be quiet too long.
“I’m sorry,” I said, because I didn’t know what else to throw out to plug the conversation gap. “I wish I could help you with that one, but I can’t. Maybe it should be a project that you and Harry work on—playing detective, seeing if you can’t find out where she went and what happened to her. In fact, I officially make that your mission between now and next weekend. Go and do some research. I bet between you and Harry, you can find something.”
Our waitress returned, whipping out her tickets and clicking the end of a pen.
“Look, I’ve got to go. We’re in a restaurant. We can talk about this later, if you want.”
“You promise?”
“Yeah, I promise. Call me early next week if you don’t hear from me.”
“Okay. Talk to you later.”
“Later,” I echoed, and hung up.
Benny ordered a gyro and fries, and since I hadn’t had time to look up anything fancier, I went with a cheeseburger.
“Who was that?” Benny asked, sipping at his soda.
I answered honestly, and vaguely. “A cousin of mine. I’ve been doing some research for him. Long story.”
“Oh. Cool.”
“So you’re working tonight,” I changed the subject. “What time do you get off?”
“Midnight-ish. And don’t you dare go out to the battlefield without me.”
“I won’t, I won’t. Don’t worry.” I stuffed my cell phone back into my purse, then wadded up the top of the brown bag of film and mashed that in there too. “I’ll have to sweet-talk Dave into loaning me one of his cameras first anyway. If I ask for it and then run off at midnight, I think he might twig onto the fact that I don’t want it for bird-watching.”
“Bat-watching.”
“Oh, let it go. You’re going to have to be a bit less crazy if I’m going to use you as an excuse. Maybe I should just use Jamie as an excuse instead anyway. He’s been bugging me to take headshots of him.”
“Why?”
“He wants to release an album of spoken word pieces. He plans to burn a few CDs and carry them around with him to slams—sell them to the crowd and try to cover a few expenses that way. He wanted a headshot for the back of the sleeve.”
“Are you sure? He seems more the kind of guy who’d put his picture on the front.”
“Point taken. I don’t know. But he knows Dave’s got lots of equipment, and he was asking me about it a few weeks ago. This may be the perfect excuse to nab a camera.”
Benny took another fizzy swig. “Do you even know how to use a camera?”
“Yes.” I scowled, then pulled my own drink close. “Of course I do. Back in high school I went through a phase where I thought photography might be the thing for me.”
“Was it?”
“Not exactly. I’m not bad, but I’m no Dave.”
Our waitress walked by, and we both looked up hoping that she bore a tray. She did, but it wasn’t for us.
“What did you take pictures of?” Benny asked, still eyeing the grill behind the counter.
“Cats, mostly.”
“Cats?”
“Cats. I like cats. I think they’re pretty. I also did a lot of the typical crap—you know, close-ups of roses and things. I lost interest in it after a few months, but I can still work a shutter when the chips are down.”
“I could go for some chips right now.”
“Be patient,” I told him, but the longer we sat there, the hungrier I got too. The place smelled great, and a cheeseburger was sounding better by the minute.
Before long we were rescued by two steaming plates loaded with our orders. Between greedy bites, we worked out a plan.
It would be best to wait a few nights before going back out to the battlefield, considering that the Marshalls were going to be on high guard. Having a crew member take a bullet would set a group on edge, I imagined; and Benny’s none-too-subtle fan-boy display was only going to reinforce the sense that they weren’t alone out there.
With this in mind, we agreed to meet up again Friday afternoon, sometime before sunset. We’d grab Jamie and take him too, since he still knew the area better than either of us did, and he still seemed interested in accompanying us. Together we would select a vantage point near Dyer’s field. I’d bring the camera, a small tripod, and a remote.
“I’ll bring some camo gear,” Benny offered.
“What for?”
“You want to just leave all that expensive equipment lying around in the woods, for anyone to find and steal? We can build an improvised blind, somewhere in the woods along the edge of the field. We’ll need a relatively clear view through the trees, though, so we won’t be able to hide too deep.”
I thought hard for a minute. “Are there any woods along the edge of the field?”
“What else would surround a field out there? They’re all surrounded by trees.”
“I don’t know. A road, maybe?”
“Okay, right. A road, maybe.” He waved a fork in a dismissive gesture and used it to stab a fat, crinkled fry. “But unless the road goes all the way around the thing like the Talladega track, there are going to be some trees for us to hide in.”
I chewed another bite of burger and wondered how this was going to work out. Following a hard swallow, I said, “Let’s see—army surplus gear, surveillance equipment, federally protected property…”
“It’s a recipe for wackiness,” Benny agreed. “We’re going to have to be careful.”
“We’ll need to be more than careful. We’ll need to be ninjas, for God’s sake. We are going to be in some serious shit if anyone catches us, you know that, right?”
“This is the part where you remind me again about the ‘no weapons’ part, isn’t it?”
Now that he mentioned it, this was as good a time as any to reinforce that point. “Precisely. Remember that we are doing this unarmed. Completely. Totally. Utterly. I want nothing on your person that could even be wildly misconstrued as something you brought in order to stab somebody with.”