by PJ Fernor
Or maybe Marge just doesn’t care at all.
Which is probably the best way to live.
She waits her tables, collects her tips, goes home, and that’s that.
Forget the world.
Suddenly, he’s jealous of Marge and her life.
Part of him wonders if he could do this job.
Walk around, take food orders, deliver the food.
Again… it all equals out.
The food matches the order.
The amount matches the bill.
It’s a beautiful thing in life.
He sits and Marge hands him a menu.
When she asks about his drink order, he gets a coffee and a chocolate milk.
They both taste great.
He orders the Number 2… which is eggs, bacon, pancakes, and hash browns.
The night is turning out great.
He looks around the diner.
There’s a handful of people.
Handful.
He smiles and looks at the bag next to him.
He picks up the bag and puts it on the table.
It feels right.
It didn’t have to come to this. It really didn’t. And it shouldn’t have.
Marge brings his food and points to his bag.
“The seats are clean,” she says. “You can put your bag down.”
“Oh, I don’t mind it there,” he says to her. “What’s inside… it means a lot to me.”
“You don’t have someone’s head in there, do ya?” Marge asks and laughs.
He points to her and laughs right back. “Not even close.”
He eats the food as fast as he can.
Marge checks on him twice and then leaves the check.
She had drawn a smiley face on top of the check.
He looks back and tells himself Marge is a little too old for him.
Or maybe not.
He can’t believe Marge hit on him like that.
He’s full and feels good about himself.
He stands up and opens the bag.
The hand is still there, as expected.
He reaches into his pocket and throws down money for a tip.
It’s a great tip.
Fifteen bucks.
More than the bill itself.
He takes two steps away from the table and pauses.
He moves back and grabs a one-dollar bill.
Fourteen is a better number.
It’s even.
It matches.
It’s equal.
Seven and seven.
Speaking of even…
One hand is not going to make things right.
Chapter Two
He opens the swinging door and sees Peter sitting on the stainless-steel countertop. Peter looks at him and frowns.
“What did you do out there?” he asks.
“I had a system,” Peter says. “I was going to win it all back. For you. Okay?”
“Cheating.”
“An advanced strategy.”
“Do you think I need that kind of heat on me right now?”
“No. Nobody would have known.”
“I saw it from a mile away. You were using your left toes. I saw them moving in your shoes.”
“You saw that? For real?”
“Who do you think I am?”
“Oh… I didn’t mean any disrespect.”
“Peter, get off the counter,” he says.
“Sorry.”
Peter jumps off the counter.
Peter’s a good worker. Also too dumb to know better.
Just like this cheating thing.
Everyone thinks they can win. Or they can cheat.
It doesn’t work that way.
Ever.
“I have to send a message, Peter,” he says.
“What? Like a phone call? A text message? Do you need me?”
Case in point of how dumb this guy is…
He snaps his fingers and the doors swing open again.
Three men walk in.
They don’t need names.
They’re bodies.
And they listen.
“Oh, man,” Peter says. “What is this?”
“Put him on the counter,” he says to the three guys.
Peter starts swinging, but it’s no use.
The three guys have Peter on the counter in seconds.
Holding him down as he cries.
“Peter, stop crying and look at me,” he snaps.
Peter looks. “I’m so sorry…”
“I know you are. Now I need you to say something to me. You know what to say, right?”
“We’re all his,” Peter whispers.
“His being me, right?”
He smiles.
Peter laughs. “Yeah. That’s right. We’re all yours. That’s you. You’re The One. I get it. I see it.”
He puts his hand to Peter’s chest. “Okay. That’s good. You can see. You have an important job here, Peter.”
“Anything. Anything you want, I’m your guy.”
“It involves seeing,” he says.
“I have great vision,” Peter says.
“Good, good,” he says. “Because I need your eyes to send a message.”
“My eyes? You want me to look at something?”
“No, Peter. My associates are going to cut out your eyes and give them to your friends who were helping you cheat.”
Peter starts to scream.
He walks away and the screams get worse as the true pain begins.
That’s just what life is.
True pain.
He walks into a small office and sits down in a big chair.
There’s a lot of work to be done.
A lot of orders being placed.
For some reason he still thinks about Gerard.
Such a good worker too.
The man had been in such debt. He had worked out of that debt and was such an asset.
Then he became instantly disposable when he exposed himself.
All for the thought of love.
Such a foolish thing to do.
He thinks about finding Gerard.
Taking him out to the road and having one of his associates killing him.
Leaving the message so it was loud and clear who did it.
He loves sending messages.
Because this entire operation must go on.
There’s no stopping it.
He reaches for a pen and finds a blank piece of paper.
This is where things get a little tricky.
It’s been quiet. And quiet is good.
But there’s one name that keeps playing through his head.
A loud name. A loud voice.
Someone he knows can’t stay quiet for long.
Someone he wishes just would.
He writes the name and then lifts the piece of paper and stares at it.
He reads it twice.
Then he speaks it out loud.
“Detective Allie Down.”
Chapter Three
Ben pulled the car into the dark, empty parking lot of a building that hadn’t been used in decades. If the history in my head was correct, it had once been a factory that manufactured bulbs for headlights. Then it was shut down and turned into an auto parts distributor. That business went belly up in the early nineties and since then, it just sat there like another scar of what used to be a prosperous small town near Sandemor.
All the towns were just about the same, which was how that entire region of Pennsylvania was.
Some places were breathing new life with sports stadiums, casinos, distribution warehouses for large companies, among other things.
Sadly, other towns were just left to fend for themselves.
I was in the passenger seat of Ben’s car on an economic savings mission.
We were meeting Johnny Barby.
As odd as that sounded and felt.
Ben pulled the car around to the back of the building.
F
or a second, my hands began to feel clammy. I touched the sides of the seat.
In my head, I ran too many scenarios at once.
What if this is a set up? What if Ben is…
I blinked a few times and refused to finish my thought.
Quite frankly, since the whole Jerry-slash-Gerard situation, I had a hard time believing anyone when they said who they were when they showed themselves to me.
I was still angry at myself for getting close to Jerry the way I did. I put Lo’s life in jeopardy. She ended up kidnapped - briefly - but the intention was there. Jerry thought me, him, and Lo were going to be a family. And he also included Steph-slash-Leslie (slash-Lea).
It was nothing short of a disaster that ended with me saving Lo, getting Steph-slash-Leslie-slash-Lea the help she needed, but that meant letting Jerry-slash-Gerard get away. Only to have him found dead, with a message from The One.
The One.
He was out there. Somewhere.
Still kidnapping girls.
Still-
“Are you ready?” Ben asked.
I cleared my throat and nodded. “Let’s do it.”
I threw open the car door and walked to Johnny’s car like nothing was on my mind.
“Three of us for this?” I asked Johnny.
He shrugged. “I need some help.”
“I’m surprised you’re man enough to admit that.”
“Don’t worry about what I’m man enough to do, Allie,” he said with a grin.
I sighed and looked at Ben.
“Are you sure about tonight?” Ben asked.
“My contact says it’s a go,” Johnny said. “This guy is violent. He always carries a gun with him. I’m not sure of any other weapons. So we have to be careful.”
“This is like a secret operation here,” I said. “For a guy robbing gas stations.”
“Look,” Johnny said. “I want this guy caught tonight. My boss is on my back about it. The first gas station, he hit a seventy-year-old woman in the head and she almost died.”
“Scum,” I said.
“Exactly,” Johnny said.
“How many so far?” Ben asked.
“Four,” Johnny said.
“And you have a contact telling you what’s happening?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Johnny said. “A guy who owed me a favor.”
“You have criminals owing you favors?” I asked.
“Don’t worry about what I have or don’t have,” Johnny said. “A mile up the road is a gas station. It’s secluded. That’s where our guy is hitting tonight. His name is Nelson Rembren. Here’s a recent picture…”
Johnny opened the picture on his phone and showed it to me.
“And you’re sure?” I asked.
“Here’s the security image from the last robbery,” Johnny said.
He swiped.
The pictures were a match.
“And why aren’t we just arresting him before tonight?” I asked.
“Don’t know where he is,” Johnny said. “He knows how to hide.”
“We’ll catch him in the act,” Ben said. “We’ll cover the entire store.”
“Exactly,” Johnny said. “I’ll give the signal when it’s time to go in. We enter casually and make sure all the exits are blocked.”
“And what if he grabs the cashier?” I asked. “Now we’re talking a hostage situation. This is a bad idea.”
“You can either help or go home,” Johnny said. “I called you… both of you…”
“We’re in,” Ben said.
“Yeah, sure,” I said.
I turned and walked back to Ben’s car.
I got into the passenger seat and waited as Ben and Johnny talked.
My mind was scattered in too many different directions.
I needed to look through the missing persons system again. I needed to find some kind of pattern. I knew the kind of girls The One liked to get. If they were young enough, he would sell them. If they were a little too old, or left over, he somehow positioned them into other positions to make money. His operation was vast and organized. But that didn’t mean it was something I couldn’t figure out and take down.
After everything I saw happen, there was no way I-
“We’re going to follow Johnny,” Ben said.
I gasped.
I hadn’t realized he was back in the car.
We stared at each other for a few seconds.
“Are you okay?” Ben whispered.
“Fine,” I said.
He touched my hand. He squeezed it.
“Let’s go get a bad guy off the street,” he said.
I forced a smile.
Johnny led the way to the gas station.
It was almost in the middle of nowhere.
Probably only frequented by truckers looking for a snack, a bathroom, or a second to stretch their legs.
There were two eighteen-wheelers parked way off in the back, lights out.
Johnny kept us far enough away that we blended into the night.
The cars were parked next to each other and Johnny told Ben to watch for the signal.
My eyes stared intently at the gas station.
After a good ten minutes of nothing, a black car with the headlights turned off pulled to the side of the road.
“Ben,” I whispered.
“That’s our guy,” Johnny said. “Just wait.”
My right leg started to bounce.
Waiting made no sense. Johnny had the pictures. He had the proof.
A man dressed all in black with a baseball cap walked toward the gas station.
I glanced at Ben who stared at Johnny.
I clapped my hands together. “What are we doing?”
“Waiting,” Ben said.
“For what?”
“My signal,” Johnny said.
I looked forward again and saw the man enter the station.
This was pure chaos.
The man was going to pull a gun on the cashier…
I grabbed the door handle and opened the door.
“Allie,” Ben said.
“Take your signals and stuff them you know where,” I said.
I got out of the car and ran toward the gas station.
Chapter Four
I heard both Ben and Johnny call my name.
But I was on the move.
Nothing was going to stop me.
I knew where my gun was and if the situation came to be…
Just like with Patrick? When you shot and killed him?
I chased away that memory and focused on the present.
“I’m taking the back!” Johnny’s voice yelled. “Ben! Cover her!”
I looked back and pointed at Ben. “You cover the side, Ben! He can’t get away!”
When I got to the front door, I quickly ripped it open.
Nelson turned his head and looked at me and I must have thrown off a cop-slash-detective vibe, because he reached over the counter and shoved the cashier back against the wall of cigarettes. He jumped the counter and I unholstered my gun.
“Don’t move!” I yelled.
Nelson moved.
He ducked down and darted along the counter down one of the narrow aisles.
I took off after him as the cashier stood behind the register with his hands up, his face white, filled with fear.
I reminded myself that Nelson was armed.
A shootout in a gas station wasn’t what I had on my list for the evening, but here I was.
I skipped the first aisle and went down the second.
I moved fast enough to shorten the distance but slow enough to keep from making noise.
At the end of the aisle, I turned and saw Nelson’s right hand and his gun.
I clenched my jaw, not wanting to pull the trigger and hurt him (even though he was a serial robber), so I made another daring move.
With my left hand, I grabbed a tall jar of overpriced salsa and threw it at Nelson.
That move was enough to
get him to swat his hands so I could make a move for his gun. I locked his wrist and twisted it hard enough that he opened his hand.
The gun fell to the floor.
Nelson wasn’t giving up that easily though.
As the gun hit the floor, Nelson threw his right shoulder into my body, sending me to the floor.
He jumped over me and took off.
I rolled to my stomach and pushed up to my feet.
Now I was annoyed.
I ran after him as he cut down the third aisle in the store.
“Freeze!” Ben’s voice boomed.
Ben was at the end of the aisle, gun drawn, but he wasn’t going to even consider pulling the trigger with me right behind Nelson.
Before I could even think that we had Nelson boxed in, he turned to his right and jumped over the display.
It collapsed in a heap of chips and snacks.
Ben and I both made our move for him, but he was back on his feet, running toward me.
Somehow in the exchange of knocking the display over, he took a knife out of somewhere.
I saw the blade. I saw Nelson.
I ducked down and he moved over my head.
I kicked my right foot out and tripped him.
He flew into the air and went down to the floor hard.
I grabbed for his leg and he turned, the knife in his hand, slashing at the air, trying to get to me.
Johnny appeared from nowhere and put his foot to Nelson’s back.
“Don’t move, loser,” Johnny said.
“Drop the knife,” I ordered.
Nelson groaned and let out a list of expletives that would make the truckers sleeping in their trucks blush.
I was on my knees, catching my breath.
I looked up at Johnny.
“I got him,” I said.
“I see that,” Johnny said.
Ben was then at my side, helping me up.
Johnny took a set of handcuffs out and offered them to me.
“Have at it, Detective,” he said.
“This was your case,” I said. “He’s yours. I was just helping.”
Johnny cuffed Nelson and pulled him to his feet.
Nelson looked at me with blood on his bottom lip.
“You threw salsa at me,” Nelson said.
“Yeah, I did,” I said. I looked down at my feet and smiled. I reached down and lifted a bag of mostly crushed tortilla chips. “Here’s the chips that go with it.”
I tossed the bag at his face.