Part of his plan to find Lila was to go into both bars, buy a few beers and flash pictures of her around. Beer and liquor were memory joggers of the highest order, and if the man who was buying them threatened to leave unless he got answers, alcohol-moistened lips were sure to loosen.
But first, he’d set something in motion at the diner and he wanted to see what, if anything, happened before he moved on to the bars.
When he returned to the parking lot, he sat on the hood of his car and pretended to revel in the scenery that lay around him.
The early evening air was cooling to a tolerable level after the day’s high temperature, and as such, it carried sound with a clarity that gave him far more warning of possible trouble than he needed. Either someone had a major emergency, or there was a learner driver on the roads who’d never mastered safe cornering speeds.
There was another screech of tires as a second corner was rounded, and then the thumping roar of a V8 being demanded to donate every one of its horses to the driver’s cause.
He sent a glance the diner’s way. The server was looking out the front window and her gaze was locked on him. Fletcher gave her a subtle wave to let her know he’d seen her watching and resumed his waiting.
The roaring grew louder as a battered pickup shot into the parking lot and squealed to a halt.
Four young men emptied themselves from the pickup and walked towards Fletcher. To him they looked like everyday punks. They had a belligerent swagger and more of a desire to appear tough than an ability to carry out whatever threat they made.
All four were tall and rangy, their bodies hardened as if by physical labor. As a group they’d think someone like Fletcher was little threat. Their clothes were washed-out denims and shirts that had seen better days. No follower of fashion himself, Fletcher still recognized their clothes were nothing like the stylish ones he saw most punks their age wearing.
Fletcher eased himself upward from where he was sitting on the hood of the rental sedan and waited until they approached him.
This was the reaction he’d suspected he’d get when he’d shown the picture to the server in the diner. In every way imaginable, it backed up Brad’s story. Now it was a case of seeing how things played out.
The tallest of the young men stepped forward, his whole demeanor filled with the unassailable arrogance of youth. “You’re not from round here, sir, and I think you should return to wherever it is you come from.”
Even in a potential fight situation, the southern manners of the youth shone through. In these parts anyone conversing with someone older than them by fifteen years or more would always address the person they were speaking to as Sir or Ma’am. It was a respect thing and would be automatic. When the “Sir” was dropped, it wouldn’t be bad manners, it would be outright disrespect and a sure sign things were about to get ugly.
Fletcher dropped a lazy smile at Tall Boy, as he thought of him. “Not planning to be here long. Just passing through.” Fletcher pulled the picture of Lila from his pocket and showed it to Tall Boy. “Once I find my friend, I’ll be gone. Don’t suppose you know where she is? She went missing after eating at the diner six days ago.”
Tall Boy answered without looking at the picture. “Ain’t never seen her.”
At Tall Boy’s shoulder one of his buddies gave a snort of derision. Fletcher ignored him; he was the thinnest of the four and while he was being cocky, he was also making sure he was behind Tall Boy and his freckle-faced buddy.
To Tall Boy’s right was the widest of the four. He was as well-built as Fletcher, but while his body was sculpted, his features had a bovine emptiness to them. Of the gang, he’d be the one who’d be the most dangerous, assuming the coming fight was about brute strength rather than intelligence.
“Are you sure about that? Maybe your buddies would know.”
“She ain’t anywhere in town, so it’s time for you to leave, sir.” Tall Boy jerked a thumb in the direction of the road. “Big fat guy was asking the same questions you is. Was accusin’ the good people of Daversville of abducting the girl. Folks round here don’t like gettin’ accused of things they ain’t done and if you’re fixin’ on doing the same, I’d recommend you don’t waste no time in leaving town.”
Fletcher looked Tall Boy up and down with a deliberate slowness. He wasn’t worried about the impending scuffle. These four yokels weren’t the kind of people he’d considered a threat since a sergeant major with an inventive repertoire of coarse vocabulary had taught him and a clutch of other recruits to the Royal Marines how to fight.
“And if I’m not ready to leave, what will happen?”
“We’ll make you ready. Yeah, boys?”
Tall Boy threw a disdainful look over his shoulder at Cocky for stealing his thunder. As much as the implied threat had now been voiced, Fletcher’s attention was on the way the gang’s dynamic had been shown. Tall Boy was the top dog, the contrition on Cocky’s face had made that clear. Freckles and Muscles had adopted what they must have believed were intimidating stances, but they were keeping silent and taking their lead from Tall Boy.
“As my associate says, we’ll persuade you to leave now. Ain’t no hospital in Daversville, so it’s sure a long walk to the emergency room.”
“I like walking. It’s good exercise.” Fletcher saw the first traces of uncertainty in their faces as he straightened his stance and squared up to Tall Boy. “You’re forgetting something, though.”
“Yeah?” The solitary word fell from Tall Boy’s mouth in a scoffed laugh.
“You never said please.”
All four boys laughed at this, and Cocky leaned between Tall Boy and Freckles, his head thrust forward.
“Will you please get the hell out of our town?”
“No.”
Tall Boy’s top lip curled into a mocking sneer. “Kick his ass.”
“Wait.” Fletcher made a halting gesture. “You’re not being very smart about this. You see, I get your thinking, there’s four of you. You think you’re able to take me down without any trouble. You’ve all got at least two or three inches on me; you’re probably all twenty years or so younger as well. Those will seem like good odds to you. However, have you asked yourselves who I am and why I’m the one looking for the girl? Have you also thought about why I’m not backing down?” To further incite their anger, Fletcher wagged his finger like a school principal giving a student a dressing-down. “Here I am confronted by four fit and strong young men, and yet I’m not climbing into my car and hightailing it out of town. Doesn’t that tell you that I’m not afraid of you? That, in fact, maybe I’m a threat to you?”
Fletcher savored the growing uncertainty on their faces until he saw Tall Boy screwing up his courage to strike. He didn’t mind having the fight, but he’d rather it was somewhere more private, so that he could persuade one of them to talk once the fighting was done.
“Screw you. You’re just some old guy with more balls than brains.”
“Thanks, I’ll take that as a compliment.” Fletcher give a kiss-my-ass grin to Tall Boy. “Let me enlighten you as to how this will go down. You’ll move forward, swing a couple of punches that I’ll make sure miss me. My first blow will be an elbow to the side of your muscled friend’s head. He’ll go down hard. You’ll follow him when I plant a punch in your gut that will lift you off your feet and land you on your butt. Two blows from me and your numbers will be halved. Your buddy with the freckles will come at me next; he’ll be cagier, but my boot will lift his kneecap to a place where it doesn’t belong and that’ll be the end of him. As for the wiseass who’s cowering behind you while trying to act like a tough guy, I’ll bet your mama’s virtue that he’ll have started running away before you’ve begun gasping for the air my punch is gonna knock clean out of you.”