Cassa refused the offer. “Not quite yet. I haven’t seen Myron for a while, I would have liked to have caught up with him.”
Walt breathed out heavily at that. “He and Patricia have been having a hard time lately. When I saw him in here, I thought I’d let him know she was looking for him.”
Cassa frowned at that. Myron and Patricia were always at odds with each other. There had been times over the years that Cassa had wondered why they stayed together. And now she was beginning to wonder why everyone thought they needed to rescue Myron from Cassa.
“I know Myron knows you pretty well,” Walt stated as Debra set the coffee and pie on the table before leaving. “He’s spoken of you often.”
“Has he really?” Cassa ignored her own pie and braced her arms on the table as she watched him curiously. “Good things I hope.”
Walt laughed at that. “Pretty much what Cabal says about you. Stubborn. Tenacious. A bulldog when you’re after a story. I consider those compliments.”
Cassa continued to stare back at him with a hint of a question. Namely, why the hell Cabal would discuss her with anyone, let alone this old man.
“Cabal’s discussed me with you?” There was a tinge of anger in her voice that Cassa fought back. She had to ignore Cabal and any emotion that arose in her concerning him. She couldn’t allow herself to be taken by a man that would see her as no more than a possession. He would try to wrap her up, lock her up. And he’d proven he’d go to any lengths to do it.
Walt gazed around the diner, his eyes lingering on the two Breeds with narrow-eyed intent. Seconds later the two men glared back at him irately, but rose from their seats and headed to the counter to pay for their coffee.
“I’m impressed,” Cassa told her. “They don’t seem the sort to give up so easily.” Most Breeds didn’t.
Walt laughed at that, his hazel eyes twinkling. “I know them. They’re nosy as hell, but not really much trouble.”
Not exactly an honest description of any Breed. They were all trouble with a capital T, and those two Breeds were more than just nosy.
“So tell me, Ms. Hawkins, what are you looking for in Glen Ferris that has Myron looking as hunted as a Breed in Council territory?” Walt stared back at her curiously, his rough-hewn face creased into lines of sincerity.
Small towns, you had to love them, Cassa thought.
“David Banks. Anomalies. Anything to add to my story about his disappearance,” she answered blithely as she pulled her notebook free, snapped her pen open and then stared back at him expectantly. “Do you have any information?”
Walt laughed. “Banks was liked by some, hated by others. There was no in-between.” He shrugged. “I suspect he managed to slip and fall into the river. I figure they’ll find his body sometime around spring or so. Hell of a way to go if you ask me.”
She tilted her head and watched him silently for long moments.
“You seem pretty certain that was how he went,” she commented.
“Certain as I can be,” he drawled as he finished his pie. “Banks liked to play with Phillip Brandenmore and Horace Engalls quite a bit as well. Maybe they offed him.”
Or maybe someone was trying to throw up a hell of a smoke screen.
“Maybe.” She smiled tightly, pulled some money from her jeans and laid it on the table for the pie and coffee that she had barely touched. “Thank you anyway, Walt.”
She rose from her chair to leave, aware that the old man rose as well and followed her out of the restaurant.
“Ms. Hawkins.” Cassa paused as Walt’s voice hardened.
“Yes?” She turned back to him with a frown.
“Whatever you’re looking for here in Glen Ferris, you can trust me, if you’d be honest enough to let me know exactly what you need,” he said, his expression sober, sincere. “Let me help.”
“I’m sure Cabal wouldn’t approve,” Cassa warned him mockingly. “Jonas definitely wouldn’t.”
If the old man knew Cabal, then no doubt he knew Jonas. Cassa couldn’t bring herself to trust him though, whether Cabal or Jonas approved or not. There was something about “Walt” that warned her he was hiding much more than he was revealing.
Walt snorted at that. “Those two don’t scare me. They never have, and they won’t start now. You just have to know how to handle them.” He winked back in amusement. “A long chair and a sharp whip. It works every time.”
Cassa laughed, shaking her head. No truer words were ever spoken.
“Until they take the whip and break the chair?” she asked as they moved down the sidewalk.