CHAPTER FIVE
Shelby Minor drove over to the diner for lunch the next day. He was ahead with his crew on the bridge job, and it was going to involve a wait of over two hours before they'd be able to continue.
"Take a long lunch," he had told the men that were under his authority. "We don't get them very often."
The men had happily agreed. Most of the guys ate at the camp site, where a makeshift dining room had been erected, similar to a military mess hall. Regular people came to cook for the construction crew, and the atmosphere was generally friendly.
But Shelby had different ideas today. He knew that Betsy, the waitress, didn't get off the lunch shift until one o'clock. It was twelve-thirty now, and if he hurried, he'd have a little time to talk to the pert redhead.
She was cleaning
