The Purging of Bridges Valley

Chapter 9

The stale coffee tasted weak so Dianna poured a liberal amount of hazelnut creamer into her mug and took a deep breath. Her father, Andrew, sat across from her in the little diner studying the menu. She knew he didn't even need to look at the thing anymore-- they'd stopped here so many times over heaven knows how many mornings and he always got the same thing-- biscuits and gravy with two bacon strips. She always got the eggs over easy, sausage links, and toast. It was their ritual every Saturday for going on five years.

    It had been two days since the incident with the Orourkes and she was almost positive Joseph had something to do with the missing persons, but there just weren't any bodies to be found at the farm. The results of the blood samples collected from the wheelbarrow wouldn't return for a few days to a couple weeks and other than the truck and shawl pinning the victims to the scene, there was no telling where they could be or if they were alive or dead.

    Diana didn't want to think on it much on her days off so she returned to her watery coffee and stared down into the milky swirls.

    "You're sure quiet this morning," her father said as he folded the menu and took a sip of his orange juice. His mustache touched the liquid and he lightly patted it with his handkerchief. "Anything new going on with that case down at Morse's?"

    "Not that I know of," Dianna said. She'd be hearing about this case for months, there was no escaping it. Rumors circulated quick.

    "That sure is one strange situation," he added, "Everyone's in a buzz about it, saying there's a serial killer on the loose. I heard Joanie talking about someone tearing up her yard last night and riling up her dogs. Said this morning the whole street was a mess, someone overturned all the trash cans."

    Diana was getting annoyed. It was always like this-- everyone knew she was a cop and chose to speculate to her about any big case she worked, trying to get their two cents in.

    "Why would a serial killer tip over a bunch of trash cans? It was probably some of the neighbor punks, Dad. Completely unrelated."

    "I don't know, but the Orourkes are gone and there hasn't been a murder or missing person in a long time," Andrew cleared a place as their food arrived.  The waitress, Corine, smiled warmly as she set Andrew's biscuits down. Her hair was always a perfectly coiffed blonde mound, her face lavishly painted with bright colors, and her chest generous. It was probably why Diana's father fancied her so much.

    "Here's the usual, honey," she crooned. "Two crispy bacon strips, just how you like it." She always flirted with him because he tipped so well.

    "Thanks darling," he winked as she turned to clean an abandoned table. Diana caught him sneaking a peek of her rear.

    "Don't be so obvious, dad," Diana whispered as she dipped a piece of toast into her egg yolks, grateful for the distraction.

    "It's just playful," he sighed and stared longingly out one of the windows. Diana knew he missed her mother more than anything, but after over a decade it was time to move on. He flirted a lot, sure, but he never tried for more or attempted to move on. Her mother had been the love of his life, after all. Even after her final years of hoarding, he always loved her.

    They sat and chit-chatted for another half hour over their food. Finally, Diana and her father stood, exchanged a hug, and parted ways. He didn't ask her any more questions about Morse or the Orourkes.

    She hopped into her truck and made her way to the farmer's market, which opened every weekend. Another part of her ritual, she always made a visit to talk to the locals and of course buy fresh produce.