Down at Denny’s Sherman waited by the cash register in the same spot he and Dean always waited. He stood the same way he would stand if Dean had been there right beside him, the brim of the Stetson lightly held in both hands directly in front of him. His spine ramrod straight, eyes searching for the first sign of Faye through the swinging kitchen doors. But Faye was not on duty this afternoon. He realized that after he’d already been seated in the red booth and another, younger woman with dark hair and a sour attitude came over to take his order.

“Where’s Faye?” Sherman asked right off.

“Who’s Faye?”

“You know, Faye— She’s been working here for a year or more.”

“I don’t know any Faye,” the dark-headed girl said, scribbling some number on her order pad and not looking up at Sherman’s eyes.

“You don’t know any Faye?”

“Yeah, that’s right, I don’t. I just started here.”

“Well, where’d you come from?” Sherman said.

“What do you mean, where’d I come from? I applied for the job and they gave it to me.”

“Well, where’s Faye? What happened to Faye?”

“I don’t— Look mister, I don’t know anybody named Faye. I just started here today and I don’t know anybody. All right?”

“Get me the manager. I want to see the manager.”

“Oh boy— All right, look— Do you wanna order something first?”

“No, I don’t want to order anything. I want to see the manager.”

“You’re not going to lodge a complaint about me, are you?”

“No. I just want to find out what happened to Faye.”

“Because this is my first day on the job, and if you make a complaint about me, then—”