She hesitated. “Don’t gather a storm.”

I knew that saying well. Her own mother had passed it down to her. In our family it meant not going looking for trouble that didn’t belong to you. But this trouble had walked into her diner, threatened her, and laid hands on her.

“I’m not gathering anything,” I said quietly. “I’m just going to find out what happened.”

She closed her eyes without answering. I stayed another twenty minutes, listening to the steady rhythm of the monitor, then kissed her forehead and promised I’d be back first thing in the morning.

Chapter 4 — Nobody Saw a Thing

The diner looked like a crime scene everyone had silently agreed to ignore. Two elderly regulars sat in a corner booth nursing coffee. The fluorescent lights buzzed louder than they should have in such a quiet room.

Kayla Moore was working the evening shift. She’d grown up nearby and used to babysit for the Henderson family down the road. I asked what she’d seen.