Down the Darkest Road

22

Even though he worked nights, breakfast was Roland’s favorite meal of the day. He often stayed up all night, then took himself to breakfast and went to bed when he got home to sleep the morning away.

He had found a diner he liked on La Quinta. An honest-to-goodness diner with red vinyl booths and chrome tables, and waitresses in cheap pink-and-white uniforms. He liked the uniforms.

An interesting mix of people ate here. There were students—college students were inescapable in Oak Knoll, even in summer—but there were also ordinary citizens from all walks of life. The hospital was only a block away, which meant nurses came here for lunch and at the end of their shifts. He liked nurses. Young nurses.

A group of them sat in a booth across the way from him, chatting and laughing, eating their eggs. They worked the night shift and would be on their way home soon. He found it disappointing that few nurses were wearing white uniforms these days. He liked the idea of opening the button front of a tight white uniform dress. He liked the idea of sliding his hands up under the skirt. It was still a good fantasy, even if the reality was becoming baggy hospital scrubs.

Most of these nurses were older than suited him, but one looked young and sweet. He would follow her home and make notes about where she lived, if she lived alone, if she had a noisy dog. He didn’t like dogs.

The beauty of this diner was that he could come for breakfast and stay to make his notes with a bottomless cup of coffee. No one bothered him. No one cared what he was doing. He even brought his sketch pad to make drawings of the patrons—his interest, of course, being the young women, but he knew if he drew ugly older women and men as well, no one would think anything of his hobby.

He did a quick silly caricature of the nurses, giving them all big bright eyes and animated faces. When he had finished, he took it over to their table and introduced himself with an easy smile.

“Ladies, I thought you might enjoy having this.”

He held the sketch up for all of them to see. They were appropriately delighted.

He signed his initials with a flourish. ROB. They immediately began calling him Rob, thanking him. The young one gave him a shy but flirtatious look from beneath her lashes. The name on her name tag was Denise Garland.

When he returned to his table, he pulled his journal out of his messenger bag and turned to a fresh page.

Denise Garland: LPN, Mercy General Hospital. Night shift. 20–22. Straight brown hair cut in a long bob. Brown eyes. Heart-shaped face. Dimple in left cheek. Small breasts.

He blew on the page to help the ink dry, then packed up his things and left a nice tip for his waitress, Ellen.

Ellen Norman: 24, waitress, morning shift. Hair: strawberry blond, curly, worn up. Hazel eyes. Receding chin. Lives at 2491 17th Ave, apartment 514. Car: 1981 white Chevy Corsica with damage to rear driver’s-side quarter panel.

He went out to his van to wait.