Grim asked him one question.
“Do you still want to do this?”
Jesse nodded.
“I already did it. The second I gave you that drive, I already did.”
Grim looked at him.
“Yeah,” he said. “You did.”
Then he made a call.
Not to the local police.
Not to the state.
Federal.
The call lasted four minutes.
When Grim returned, Millie saw something different in him.
He looked lighter.
Not happy.
Not relieved.
Just lighter.
As though he had finally found someone strong enough to help carry what he had been carrying alone.
The Night the Diner Became a Fortress
Sarah and the children were moved toward Laughlin.
Frank and Dolores, an elderly couple eating at Millie's, offered their car.
Frank had been a Marine.
Dolores said she had been married to a Marine for forty years, which was basically the same thing.
Then Clay called.
Millie answered.
His voice was calm.
Almost pleasant.
He claimed to be worried about Sarah.
Millie lied to him.
She said Sarah wasn't there.
When she hung up, she looked at Grim.
“He knows.”
Grim nodded.
The next thing they heard was the sound of trucks.
Four of them.
Seven or eight men.
And a police cruiser.
Clay's people had arrived.
Millie came from behind the counter carrying the old shotgun she kept there.
Grim looked at her.
“Put it down.”
“Don't.”
“Millie—”
“I was not born yesterday, Victor.”
The room went silent.
Nobody called him Victor.
Not ever.
Grim looked at her.
“Please.”
She moved behind the counter.
But she kept the shotgun.
Frank and Dolores got down behind the booth.
The college students dropped to the floor.
Jesse explained what was happening.
The deputy was Clay's shield.
As long as the badge remained outside, Clay had protection.
Grim understood.
He pulled on his leather jacket.
“I’m going outside.”
Danny objected.
Grim wasn't going out to fight.
He was going to talk.
He walked into the parking lot.
There he found Deputy Gary Holt.
Grim knew everything about him.
His badge number.
His bank account.
The deposits Clay made.
The women.
The recordings.
And the federal investigation already moving.
Holt's hands began to tremble.
“You can’t prove any of—”
“Six deposits are on the drive.”
Holt went silent.
“Four recordings. Two include you by name.”
Grim's voice remained calm.
“The train is moving, Deputy. Whether you're on it or in front of it is up to you.”
Holt looked toward the trucks.
Then toward the diner.
Finally, he got into his cruiser.
He drove away.
The trucks stayed.
Grim stood beneath the single parking-lot light.
Then Danny stepped outside.
The trucker stepped out too.
Three men stood in the light.
The trucks waited.
Then one by one, they turned around.
And left.
Millie watched them disappear.
Then she lowered the shotgun.
“Well?”
“They left.”
“Then sit down.”
She looked around the room.
“I'm making eggs. Everybody's getting eggs.”
And somehow, after a night like that, breakfast became the most important thing in the world.
The Longest Morning
They ate eggs.
Everybody ate.
Even Jesse.
The young man stared at the plate for a long time before finally picking up his fork.