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like freshly fallen snow underfoot. The pancakes soaked up half the bottle of syrup without leaving any trace. The eggs were perfect, not overcooked to a rubbery state and not half-raw, sliding around the plate like an alien life-form. I was in true foodie heaven.
    The waitress came back five minutes later and stared at the half-empty plate. One carefully waxed eyebrow rose as her gaze darted around the booth looking for the pit bull I’d hidden somewhere and fed secretly.
    “Could I have a large orange juice, please?” I asked. “And maybe a cola?”
    “Sure.” She didn’t bother to write it down and scurried away. I had no doubt her next move would be to call up the local paper and announce a professional eater had arrived at her establishment to practice for Coney Island or something like that. My stomach gave a halfhearted round of applause as I turned back to the task at hand.
    I emptied the syrup bottle and watched the remaining three pancakes float away in a sweet, sticky ocean while I pondered my next move. I was pretty sure I couldn’t ask for the local phonebook and look up Harris Limox. Or maybe I could. A small town like this, people knew people. And a short, fat dude rolling into town might make enough of an impression to warrant someone taking notice.
    With any luck Harris wasn’t known as the local strange man who liked to fondle girlie magazines.
    The waitress approached, her long dark hair threatening to burst free of the snarled bun she’d managed to push it into. A large glass of orange juice and another filled with cola slid onto the table. “Can I get you anything else?”
    I surveyed the empty plate. “Can I have another set of pancakes?”
    Her eyes widened but she took the order and scampered away in silence.
    “David’s happy to see you’re eating,” Hunter whispered in my ear.
    I hid my surprise with a cough. I’d forgotten about the link and the camera set in the jacket’s lapel.
    I didn’t say anything. Instead I picked up my fork and drew an obscene word in the remaining syrup.
    “Oh, see. That’s just rude. And here I was thinking of much more creative things to do with syrup.” He chuckled. “Don’t blame me if you have a tummy ache.”
    A second platter of pancakes arrived, the waitress adding a second orange juice to the order without me asking. I worked my way through three-quarters of the cakes before feeling human again. Sated for the time being, I turned my attention back to the problem of finding Limox.
    The first thing I had to do was get out of this diner and establish some sort of home base. I was pretty sure a town this size would have a hotel and I’d borrowed enough money from the Agency’s funds in Las Vegas that I wasn’t worried about the cost.
    Room service would be a must.
    I shook myself, trying to push memories of Hunter and our hotel room in Vegas back in the box labeled To be Opened Later .
    I waved the waitress over. She swooped down like a curious vulture, probably wondering if I was going to order the steak and eggs next.
    I would have if I’d seen it first.
    “Check, please.”
    She waved me off. “Already been taken care of, hon.” With a hand she gestured towards the far end of the diner. “Seems you’ve got an admirer.”

Chapter Three
    “Came in the back door. Didn’t want to take any chances it was someone else.” Harris Limox grinned as I approached. “Thought I’d wait until you weren’t eating everything in sight.”
    He’d put on a few pounds, his rotund belly fighting to stay tucked under the tight flannel shirt but succeeding in hanging out over his jeans. The matching jacket made him look like a disaster in plaid. The receding hairline had taken over more territory, but he’d avoided the urge to do a comb-over and make the situation worse. The hair dye from May’s camouflage attempt was gone, leaving his remaining hair a dark brown. His brown eyes twinkled like a man with a secret he couldn’t wait to share.
    I took