CHAPTER NINE
The Hi-Glo Diner, outside of Dallas, was all retro chrome and tile. Mia was glad that it was mostly empty when she arrived. “Just sit anywhere, Honey,” the old waitress said, waving at her from behind a counter.
Mia passed a revolving dessert case, the check-out counter, and a long bar with red vinyl-covered stools, and slid into a corner booth in the very back of the establishment. It was the safest place; there, she’d be able to open up the laptop without anyone looking over her shoulder, and see everyone as they came in.
The waitress, wearing a tight-fitting blue dress that seemed ready to pop open, her hair done up in a messy bun, came lumbering toward her, carrying a glass of murky-looking water and a napkin-wrapped package of utensils, which she set down on the table.
