Ryan had headed back into the nearest town by this point. Still, he was on the outskirts of Washington DC having only made it through two states before trouble found him. It seemed it always found him he cursed. He was exhausted and was still trudging forward through the town lazily. A soldier at heart he would rest when it was safe enough to do so, and right now it wasn't safe. How long did he have now? It was almost morning and for sure the cops would have his prints by now and be running them through the system. The highway was still close by as he stopped in at a local diner. The place looked like it was pulled out of the 1950s. There were large glass windows that stretched almost to the ceiling. It was broken only by a metal strip to hold it all together, that tied into the metal molding that ran the length of the diner. It was all silver shining brightly in the sun. His guess was it was ceramic tile, painted silver and glossed over so well that from a distance you couldn't tell there was a seem. It was lifted up about five feet in the air on grey concrete work and the building itself looked like a rectangle with a bend at the corner. Off that bend was the stairs made out of the same grey concrete with a black railing that went down to the sidewalk that lead to the parking lot. Here there were a few cars, mostly older beaten up cars that for sure had seen better days.

He walked up the stairs gripping the railing with one hand to steady himself. Morning was already breaking through and like a traditional diner, this place was open early in the morning. Inside there was white tile that mde up the floors. The smell of fresh coffee made his stomach tighten and growl. He needed food and rest. There was a small table inside to the left of the door, here was the register and computer. No one was behind it. There was rows of boothes that ran on ether side of him, a wooden table stained gold oak in between each. The cloth seats were clearly worn and used. The walls were made of oak wood pannels painted a darker grey that helped offset the white. There was a bar, a long counter where there were several bar stools attached to the ground. Behind the bar was a long counter that supported the soda machines, coffee machines, dozens of cups and plates. There was a wooden box that seemed built into the table with circle holes cut into it for forks spoons and knives. It was also behind there he could see the double doors that lead to the kitchen and hear the clanging coming from inside. It sounded like metal pots and pans banging around. He paused for a moment taking it all in.

The doors swung open a few seconds later and a woman walked out quickly. She wore a white apron that was stained from food or drinks, under that she wore a red and blue stripped flannel. The sleeves were rolled up to her elbows. She wore dark blue jeans and sneakers that sqeaked on the tile ground as she rushed to the coffee pot. She didnt notice him right away and he didnt speak, just waiting and watching. She took the large glass container out nad poured the black liquid into a nearby white cup that had been pulled off the stack. He could see her figure from behind and he eyed her up and down. She was thin with black hair that was pulled up in a bun. She was also on the smaller side probably five foot six. She turneed and looked over her shoulder out of instinct. Her heart flew into her chest and she nearly dropped the coffee. He cursed under his breath and looked away to the celing to one of the built in lights.

She quickly regained her self and set the coffee down before coming over quickly. She gave him a smile as she spoke her voice low, "Hi, Just you?" she asked pulling a large flat menu out from under the counter that held the computer. He smply nodded instead of speaking. "You want a booth or table or the bar?"

"Bar will be fine, just some coffee and eggs if you could." he said following her. She still set the menu down on the counter at the first bar stool. It was here he felt how much colder the room was. He shivered a bit and waited for her to bring over the coffee mug. She set a white ceramic tray infront of him. It was filled with a assortment of colored sugar packets. She opened a mini fridge that he couldnt see under the bar and poured some thick creamer inside a container and set it before him. She then pulled a second coffee cup ot and set it before him before pouring the black stteaming liquid into it. He wrapped his hands around it as he felt its warmth for a few moments. She dissapeared inside the kitchen to place the order for his food.

He looked bad, he could tell. His eyes had deep black marks around them that made it look as if he was sucker punched. His sweat shirt was worn and he was certain he smelled becuase it had been a while since he stopped for a shower. He rubbed his face with one hand before starting to make his coffee. He could feel the stubble that was the beard slowly growing in place. He needed a bath and shave after this, he needed rest some time to relax get his bearings straight. He picked up te coffee and took a sip feeling it hit the back of is throat. Part of him wanted to drain it but he knew he had to pace himself. A caffine overdose isnt something he needed right this second. She returned a few seconds later for the other cup of coffee she was making and returned to the kitchen with it. He scanned the room for a TV but saw none and took another breath. He wondered how long till the local news was reporting about the murder.

The door behind him swung open and he took another sip. He was just another person at the nearby diner having breakfast. He looked over his shoulder though, just a glance to make it seem like he didnt want to be noticed. Acting normal wasnt something he could do. Still all it took was a glance to cath the man who had entered. He was a tall heavy set black man in a suit and tie. The buldge on his belt indicated he was carrying a gun. He took another sip of coffee and set it back down, this wasnt what he needed. The man walked over and took a seat next to him. Ryan could smell the cigarret smoke coming off him. He was a smoker, of that he could tell. The door reopened and the lady returned with Ryans plate of food which she set before him.

"Nice to see you again detective." she said turning back to get Ryans silverwear. "Your usual after a late night?" she asked setting the fork down before Ryan. He didnt make eye contact with ether of them or did he say a word. He picked up the fork and cut a piece of the egg off to eat.

"If its not too much trouble darling." He said with a slight smile. Ryan put another bite in his mouth.

"Long night?" she asked getting him a cup of coffee was well. He nodded but didnt say anything.

Ryan gave the man a quick glance taking him in more inbetween bites. He had no doubt he could outrun the man given the chance. It looked as if his days of running were over, but Ryan knew he wouldn’t have to run. The man would shoot him dead long before he made it down the road if not out the door. Ryan could run, but probably just as fast as the man could pull his gun out of his holster. Then Ryan knewhe couldnt out run a bullet. He had seen people try and first hand experience told him a expert shot would have him dead, a mediocre shot could cripple him if not kill him. No Ryan couldn’t escape if he wanted to not without hurting the man. He didn’t want that, although he wasn’t against violence, in fact it had served him well, he would much rather not hurt a innocent man. Still in his mind he was on the run for Murder now because of his careless mistake.

A cell phone rang inside the man’s pocket and Ryan, his senses already heightened nearly fired up out of his seat. The man didn’t seem to notice and if he had he made no comment on it. He pulled older burner type phone. It was a older Nokia flip phone. Ryan eased a little, obviously it was a work phone or he was living in the early ninties. Regardless he wouldn’t be getting any high definition pictures on the old pixelated and grainy screen. That and he would have thought the police would have much more high tech phones then that. Especailly for twenty eighteen.

”Hello.” The man said his voice stiffening from the tired man who walked in. Ryan couldn’t hear the voice on the other end from where he was. “Well yes, what about security cameras? Do we have the tapes?” More muffled speaking. The older man took a sip of coffee as he listened. “I don’t care, he was there whether he did it or not he’s a criminal and I want him.” Then he took the phone off his ear and with a click the phone snapped shut. He took a deep breath that Ryan was sure the people outside walking past could hear. That or his senses were so hightened he could hear and detect every little thing.

"Sounds like you had a rough night." Ryan said trying to play it off. It was hard now not to say anything to draw suspicion to himself. Chances were not saying something would, or maybe he was just being paraniod. Ether way maybe he could learn something from the man.

The man shrugged and rubbed his eyes, "I guess you could call it that." he said lowly. Ryan nodded, he could understand those. He had many all his life, long nights marching, long nights in the near zero tempitures of the deserts. Long nights hunting down terrorists or criminals. He knew how cops thought.

"What happened?" Ryan asked knowing he could get one of two responses.

"Cant comment on a on going investigation." he said watching the waitress return with his food. She set it down in front of him and he picked up a fork and knife. Ryan could hear the sound of the serrated blade clink against the ceramic plate then the squeak of the plade trying to slice the plate. Ryan whinced, at the sound, then turned back to his own plate to finish his food. That told him a lot about the man before him. He was a man who went by the rule book. Wouldnt even comment on anything to help himself rest. Keep it all bottled up Ryan thought, All bottled up till your ready to explode. He knew that too all too well.

Ryan reached into his pocket and fished out a crumpled up bills. He unfolded them and flattened them on the table trying to press the creases out. He picked up the plate and set the twenty and five dollar bills under the plate. "Who you work for at least? Clearly your not a cop with the suit and tie, FBI?" he asked innocently getting up to leave.

The man didnt answer, and Ryan just shrugged starting to head out the door. The man wasnt FBI, and he wasnt any local cops he had seen before. Shit, Ryan thought, he wouldnt have that phone if he was any kind of federal or goverment police. He pushed the glass door open and walked out into the daylight.