Page 38 of Riptide
Rain streaked the windshield,turning the city into watercolor smears of gray and green, bridges arcing over the Willamette like iron bones.
Beside her, Wade sat silent, one hand resting on the door handle. "Take the next exit," he said. "We're about ten minutes out."
Jeff Latimer'sfast-food restaurant sat in a strip mall off 82nd Avenue, wedged between a payday loan place and a discount furniture store. The kind of neighborhood where dreams came to die a slow death.
Through the grimy windows,she could see the lunch rush. A handful of customers, teenagers at registers, someone in a manager's shirt moving between stations.
"That's him."Wade nodded toward the manager.
Jeff Latimer looked exactlylike his photo—receding hairline, tired eyes, defeated slump. Nothing like the investment banker he'd been less than two years ago.
"How doyou want to play this?" Wade asked.
"Soft.Non-threatening. I need him to see me as someone like him." She checked her reflection, adjusted her expression. "Try to look less dangerous."
His mouth quirked."I'll do my best."
They waiteduntil the lunch rush died down.
"Now,"Cara said.
The smell hit them first—greaseand disinfectant. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead.
Latimer lookedup as they approached. His customer service smile appeared automatically. "Welcome to the Hamburger Hut. How can I help you?"
"We're not customers,"Cara said gently. "We have questions about Blaire Mitchell."
The restof the color drained from his pallid face.
"Get out."His voice shook. "I’ll call the cops."
"Mr. Latimer—"
"I said get out."
Cara lether feelings for Blaire Mitchell show. Every one of them. "She's blackmailing me too."
But Latimer was reachingfor the phone on the wall next to him. He froze.
"I'm being blackmailedby Blaire Mitchell." Her voice cracked. "I've paid her once. She's asking for more. I thought maybe if I could talk to someone else who'd been through it..."
Latimer's jaw worked."You're lying."
"I'm not."
"You're working for her."His laugh was bitter. "I may be managing a burger joint now, but I'm not stupid."
"We're not recording anything,"Wade said quietly. "And we're definitely not working for her."
Latimer glanced at a watching teenager,then jerked his head toward the back office. "Five minutes."
The office wastiny and sad. Latimer closed the door and leaned against it, arms crossed. "Talk."
"She foundsomething about my past. Something that could destroy my life. She's asking for money. I paid twenty thousand. Now she wants fifty more."
Latimer's laugh was hollow."And then she’ll keep coming at you. She started me at twenty thousand too."
"How much didyou end up paying?"
