Dana Mitchell had been sitting in the diner for less than twenty minutes when Sheriff Carl Reeves stopped beside her booth.
She was alone.
Denim jacket.
Dark jeans.
A brown purse beside her.
A plate of eggs cooling in front of her and a cup of coffee she had barely touched.
Nothing about her breakfast appeared remarkable.
That was precisely why she noticed the sheriff.
He was not passing by.
He had stopped deliberately.
Reeves planted one hand on the edge of her table.
“You’re not from around here.”
Dana looked up.
“Is that a question?”
A faint smile crossed his face.
In the booth beside hers, a family went quiet.
The father pulled his young son a little closer.
Reeves glanced at Dana’s purse.
“Got identification?”
Dana frowned.
“I’m eating breakfast.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
She studied him for a moment.
Then reached slowly toward her bag.
Reeves grabbed her wrist.
“Slow.”
Dana froze.
His fingers tightened around her arm.
“You told me to get my ID.”
“And I told you to move slowly.”
Dana looked down at his hand.
Then back at him.
“Take your hand off me.”
The smile disappeared.
“You want to make this difficult?”
“No.”
Her voice remained level.
“I want you to explain why a woman eating breakfast needs to prove she belongs in your town.”
The entire diner became silent.
Reeves leaned closer.
“We’ve had complaints about suspicious people.”
Dana glanced around.
An elderly couple sat near the window.
A waitress held a coffee pot behind the counter.
Two construction workers had stopped eating.
The family beside Dana remained perfectly still.
“Suspicious people doing what?” Dana asked.
Reeves did not answer.
Instead, he pulled her to her feet.
Dana’s hip struck the table.
Her coffee tipped over.
Dark liquid spread across the white surface and dripped onto the floor.
The little boy in the next booth stared.
His father finally spoke.
“Sheriff, she hasn’t done anything.”
Reeves turned sharply.
“Stay out of police business.”
The man immediately stiffened.