The Diner

Chapter 2-2

By early evening all of the search teams had returned. There was a mixture of emotions—dejection that they hadn’t found the mayor somewhere, alive if injured, and relief that they hadn’t found his body. But above all else was puzzlement.

“He can’t have just walked away, or run away,” one of the men said, stating the universal feelings of the others.

“Agreed,” John replied. “However—” he spread his hands in resignation, “—we also know he’s nowhere in town because we searched any vacant buildings or presently unoccupied houses. If he did hike off on his own into the mountains for some reason, and fell into an old mineshaft or had an accident, I’m sure one of you or your dogs would have found him.”

“Then what the hell happened to him?” another man exclaimed.

“Rollie, believe me I wish I knew. We have an APB out on him in all of the towns within fifty miles of here. We know he didn’t drive out of town, at least in his own car, since it was at Ms. Miller’s place. Of course there’s the possibility that for some reason he was kidnapped.”

“Wouldn’t Maggie have gotten a ransom call if that was the case?” one of the women asked.

“One would presume so. So far, she hasn’t. I’ve been checking with her almost hourly to see how she’s holding up.”

After a few more questions along the same lines, none of which John had answers for, people started drifting away. The majority of them headed home while a few others made their way to Mike’s Bar. John was tempted to join them, but knew if he did he’d only have to field even more questions, or listen to off-the-wall ideas about why the mayor had disappeared without a trace.

So instead, he went home. His grandmother greeted him as he walked into the house.

“You look like you’re on your last leg,” Constance said compassionately. “I gather there was no luck finding Mayor Dunn.”

“Nope.”

“Come, I saved dinner for you. It just needs reheating.”

“You didn’t have to,” he said as he followed her into the kitchen, dropping tiredly into one of the chairs in the breakfast nook. “I could have made a sandwich.”

“Pshaw. It’s the least I could do. I’d have been out helping with the search, if I was ten years younger.”

He rolled his eyes. “If you were ten years younger, you’d have been leading it, knowing you.”

“No, but I’d have been your second in command.” She patted his shoulder then took a covered plate from the refrigerator, putting it in the microwave. “It’s just meatloaf, vegetables, and potatoes. Nothing fancy.”

“Sounds perfect to me.”

When it was hot, she set the plate in front of him and sat down in the other chair. “So there’s absolutely nothing to indicate where he’s gotten off to, I take it.”

“No.” He took a moment to start eating before saying, “I’m real sure at this point that he’s not dead or injured, somewhere in the mountains outside of town. The same holds true for any of the vacant buildings or houses in town.”

“I heard his car was found at Ms. Miller’s place.”

“Yep. But she’s not there and hasn’t been for a week. Still, we checked it out, using the key her neighbor had. He’s not hiding in the cellar.”

“Or her bedroom?” Constance said with a salacious smile.

“Grandma!” John shook his head. “Not there either, with or without her.” His shoulders sagged. “He’s just—gone.”

“And tomorrow he’ll show up with some fantastical tale about being kidnapped by aliens.”

“Hell, at this point, I’d almost believe it if he did.”

They both laughed, albeit without much humor, and then went on to talk about less pressing things while he finished eating.

He washed up the dishes and then they both decided it was time for bed. As he headed to the area of the mansion which had become what he considered his own apartment, for lack of a better description, Constance stopped him.

“You will find him,” she said firmly.

“I hope so. And more to the point, I hope we find him alive.”

“As do we all.” She gave him a hug and kissed his cheek, before going upstairs, calling down when she got to the top, “Get some sleep.”

“I will,” he assured her, more for her sake than anything else. He knew himself well enough that he suspected he’d spend half the night going over in his mind what he might have missed or done wrong, and how to proceed the next day.