“I just lost my footing behind the cash register,” she said, pulling her arm back and rubbing her left wrist where she fell. “People do that at seventy-five. It is not a federal case.”
“Carol said there were three men in the booth by the door,” I said, adjusting the strap of my wrist watch. “She said they did not move.”
Evelyn looked away, her eyes fixing on the muted television screen in the corner. “Carol has always had an active imagination. You do not need to go digging into Oakhaven business.”
“I have twelve days of emergency leave,” I said. “Colonel Renick signed the papers before I left Fort Bragg.”
She sighed, her shoulders dropping under the hospital gown. “Twelve days is a long time to spend looking for trouble that is not there.”
“I am not looking for trouble,” I said. “I am looking for the truth.”
“The truth is I am old,” she said, turning her face toward the plaster wall. “And old people fall down.”
Carol Vance was waiting near the drinking fountain, clutching a damp kitchen towel in both hands. Her face was pale, and her eyes looked tired behind her thin-framed reading glasses.
“She won’t tell you the half of it,” Carol whispered, looking toward the nurses’ station before stepping closer. “Nobody in the diner stood up. Even the regulars just stared at their plates.”
“Why would they do that, Carol?” I asked.
“Because people are scared,” she said. She reached into her cardigan pocket and pulled out a small, clear plastic bag. “The deputy found these under the radiator. I thought you should have them.”
Inside the bag were my mother’s silver-framed reading glasses, one of the lenses cracked down the middle and the left arm bent completely backward.
“Did anyone call the sheriff while it was happening?” I asked.
Carol shook her head, her fingers tightening on her damp towel. “Kayla called them after the men left, but it took forty minutes for anyone to show up.”
