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Chapter Six


I've never been a big fan of country music. But Nashville dripped with the history of the genre, and with emotions that made you want to be country. You could understand the twangy guitars and the singing about trucks and good ol' days when you breathed in there. I don't know, maybe it's the writer in me getting all dramatic and weird, but Nashville seemed like the kind of place that you instantly call home, even if you've never been there before. It felt like it had a welcome mat at on the tarmac and maybe left a light on so you could see on your way in.

When we got out to the front of the airport, she'd brought me right over to this waiting van on the end of a long line up of vans. The van was painted purple and had the silouhette of the Nashville skyline painted on it's side. The Welcome Wagon was painted on it's door in curly, bright yellow hand lettering, and in smaller, white Helvetica underneath: Courtesy Curbside Pick-up For Guests of the Music City Motel & Diner. An address followed below that. Aiden waved at the van. "Our ride awaits."

I climbed on board the Welcome Wagon and climbed across the three person seat in the back, crushing myself against the window and dropping my duffle bags across the seat beside me. Aiden climbed in and sat in the row ahead of me. "Hey Dale," she greeted the big guy with feiry red hair like a bush that sat in the front. Country music played from the radio.

"Welcome back, Miss. Aiden," Dale greeted her, grinning and turning in his seat to give her a high five. "How was your trip to the Big City, little one?" he asked.

"It was great," she replied, "I got a lot done." Aiden thumbed over her shoulder, "This is Jared, he's gonna be staying at the hotel. You got any others you're waiting for?"

"Just you, Miss. Aiden." Dale turned to look back at me in the corner of the van, and called out, "Welcome to Nashville, Mr. Jared."

"Thanks," I answered.

"Jared's from New York," Aiden said.

"Can't picture livin' in a big city like New York," said Dale, "People are too mean up north. I don't really see what you see in it, Miss. Aiden. Anyways, Jared. What brings you to Nashville?"

Before I could answer, Aiden replied, "He doesn't know. His wife ditched him at the airport. We think she got on the wrong plane. She's an officer."

"You an officer, too, Mr. Jared?" Dale asked.

"Despite the fact that I'd be very good at eating donuts and drinking coffee, I could never be an officer because unfortunately that's not all they do, whatever stereotypes might say," I stammered.

Aiden and Dale both laughed.

"Got a sense of humor," Dale said. "You're all right for a Yankee, son."




Aiden wasn't lying about the picture of her with Guy Fieri. The moment the Welcome Wagon pulled up to the promised Music City Motel & Diner she pulled me out of the van. Before I could even grab my duffle bags ("Don't worry about it, Dale will take care of'em, won't you Dale? Give him the Elvis room."), Aiden had dragged me across the parking lot, through a rotating door into a little old fashioned diner where a few lazy looking patrons were sipping coffee on bar stools. The floor had those old black and white checkerboard pattern tiles and the walls were crowded with photos of people, mostly Polaroids, held up by tacks on a corkboard.

Aiden hauled me to a round booth in the corner. "He sat here," she said, waving at the booth, "Because it was easier for the camera guy to shoot, you know?" Aiden waved at the framed photograph on the wall. Sure enough, there was Guy Fieri, his tattooed arm around Aiden's shoulder, standing in front of the bar. He was throwing the peace sign with both hands, a grin on his face, his sunglasses on the back of his neck like he does on the TV show.

"That's really cool," I muttered, staring at the photo.

"You can sit here if you want," Aiden said, "I'm going to go get us some food. I'll be right back."

"Okay."

I sat in the booth and waited. I realized after she left that she hadn't asked what I wanted or anything.

I pulled out my cell phone and checked to see if Emma had called me back yet or texted or anything, but there weren't any missed notifications on my phone at all. I sighed. I tried calling her again.

"You've reached the voice mail of Officer Emma Fife..."

"Hey it's me again, I just wanted to let you know I'm at the Music City Motel & Diner," I said, "I dunno where you are still. I'm really worried Emma. Please call me. I don't know what to do."

Aiden came back just as I was hanging up. She slid into the booth across from me. "Did she answer that time?" she asked, even though she probably knew she hadn't. Considering I'd already hung up and everything. I shook my head. Aiden sat sideways, put her feet up on the seat beside herself and hugged one knee. "So she's an officer, your wife," Aiden said.

I nodded. "A damn good one, too."

"Like a police officer?"

I nodded. "More of a detective, really. She's been working on this missing child's case for awhile. Daniel Gregor."

Aiden's eyes lit up. "No shit? I saw that on the news. That kid's picture's been all over the news for like a week now." She let out a low whistle. "I feel like I'm with a celebrity." She paused, chewing her lip. "I couldn't believe it when they found that backpack of his in the river."

"My wife found it," I said.

Aiden shook her head, "Poor little boy."

"Emma doesn't think he's dead," I said.

Aiden raised her eyebrow, "No?"

"No."

"Why's that?"

"Because of Batman."

Aiden stared at me, a confused expression on her face. "What?"

"The little boy," I said, "He has this new action figure in the security tapes Em saw, it's a Batman toy. Emma doesn't think he's dead because the Batman toy's still missing."

"Anything could've happened to the toy," Aiden said. "Just because a personal belonging is missing doesn't mean the person's alive. It just means it didn't get found is all."

I shrugged. "Emma's always been a big believer in little clues like that," I replied, "Usually she's right. We even have this thing -- it's a code we have in case anything ever happens to us. We each have something that we'd never let go of, and if either of us ever finds that thing then we know the person's really gone."

Aiden stared at me. "That's really weird."

I shrugged, "I've never found her thing, and she's never found mine, and we're both still around."

Aiden asked, "How do you know the thing just isn't misplaced?"

"Because they're both things that we'd never misplace."

A round woman with rosy cheeks and a yellow dress came over and put down two cups of coffee and a dish with sugar packets and half and half containers. "Feet off the seat, missy," the woman said, waving a dishtowel at Aiden's legs.

"Thanks, Lori," Aiden said, swinging to sit in the seat correctly.

"Keep'em on the floor like they belong," Lori said, reinforcing her admonishion. She looked at me. "Jared, nice to meet you. Aiden told me you were out here when she came back to order."

"Hey," I said, looking up. "Thanks for the coffee." I reached for a sugar packet and a couple half-and-halfs.

"That's what I'm paid for," Lori replied, waddling away.

Aiden grinned at the old woman's back. "She warms up after a bit," she said, "I bet you do, too. Warm up, that is." She grabbed like five sugar packets and poured them into the coffee. Then proceeded to drink it black. I cringed. I couldn't imagine coffee that sweet and strong.

"I'm sure Emma will call when the plane she got onto lands," I said suddenly, as though Aiden had asked, though she hadn't. I sipped my coffee.

"I'm sure she'll call as soon as she can," Aiden said, nodding.