Hatched

by Jason Davis

  Still alive, she thought. In a way, she had been sad she hadn’t killed him, but thought that it was probably better for her.

  ****

  The guilt and fear didn't settle in until she had brought her car to a stop in the parking lot of the bar. Until then, it had all seemed like a dream. It couldn’t have been real. She wasn’t a fighter. She could never fight a man as large as Vince, let alone nearly kill him.

  And what if she had killed him?

  She sat there, her hands trembling as she pulled them away from the steering wheel. She had come to the bar to talk to Jason, to send him back to the house in order to check on Vince. Maybe he could help her out somehow, though she didn’t know how.

  However, now that she was at the bar, she didn’t want to do that. What kind of person would drag her nephew into this? How could she make him an accomplice? He was in college. She couldn’t screw that up. She had screwed up her own life. She had to take care of this herself.

  The realization finally came to her, and she took a deep breath. She was going to have to go back to the house. She would check on Vince, call the police, and tell them what happened.

  It was the only thing she could do, right? She couldn’t bury him across the street in the woods. She’d get caught. Sure, people hardly ever went over there. In fact, no one ever went over there, but someone probably would someday. They would find the body, the police would be called, he would identified, and…hey, wasn’t the sister of the owner of the house across the street a known lover of this man? Geez, it wouldn’t take the investigators on CSI to put that one together.

  And she knew the body would be found. That was just her luck. She wasn’t the type of person to get away with anything. If she ran a yellow light on a deserted road with no one visible for miles, she would still get pulled over by a cop she hadn’t seen. It was the way the world worked for her. She had to go back to the house and call the police.

  A loud, thundering sound shook her out of her thoughts. She looked up to see Jason coming around the back of the bar. He must have been taking out the garbage.

  He walked up to the car. “You coming in? You don’t look too good,” Jason said.

  Shit!

  Chapter 15

  “What can I get for you, darlin’?” the woman behind the long counter asked.

  Rob had just walked back to his seat next to Bruce, who sat in the middle of the counter and had been making the woman laugh. Bruce looked at him, a smile on his face. Looked like they shared a secret, but he figured it was probably because Bruce was a regular, and the place looked like it desperately needed a few of those.

  The diner looked like it was in excellent condition, clean and right out of a fifties movie. Polished chrome lined all the fake marble counters; the booths had well-padded, bright red seats; the shiny condiment racks nearly blinded him with the sun’s reflection. However, as customers went, the place was deserted, other than the two of them.

  He had been surprised at just how nice the place looked. Being far off the interstate, and the little customer traffic they must have gotten, he expected some hole-in-the-wall that only passed its health inspection because the inspector could never find the place. But “Alice’s” wasn’t like that. Instead, it felt like a place lost in time.

  As soon as they had come in, the waitress, who’s name wasn’t Alice, had yelled at Bruce, her voice welcoming him with a chuckle.

  “Don’t you ever get tired of seeing my old ass?” she had bellowed to him.

  Bruce had bowed his head, the smile that Rob began to think never left his lips grew wider. He stepped aside so that the woman could see Rob behind him.

  At first, her gaze had darkened on Rob, probably assuming Bruce had gotten himself into some kind of trouble, but when she saw Bruce was smiling, she smiled, too.

  When Rob asked if he could use the phone, she mentioned that they had a pay phone back by the restrooms but wasn’t sure if the line was still hooked up. With cell phones, nobody ever used the thing nowadays.

  The phone still worked, and he had been able to make his call to the courthouse over in Ottawa…the one in Illinois, not the one in Canada, which people always thought he was talking about. He couldn’t blame them, though. Before he moved to the area, he would have made the same mistake.

  Just as he had feared, the court case he was supposed to be testifying in had been thrown out because he wasn't there. The little punk would go free, not even having to pay a fine. The clerk on the phone, who was getting testy with him, made sure to point out that if he truly cared about the case, he should have been there.

  He didn’t argue. It wouldn’t have done any good anyway. Now he had to keep an eye out for whatever the little punk was going to do next. He knew it wasn’t over. The little shit had gotten away with it once. He was going to come after Rob again, and he would have to bust the little asshole one more time

  The fact that the case had been thrown out was probably for the best. If it hadn’t, he would have abandoned his car to try and get someone to give him a ride. Now he could see if Bruce would give him a ride the rest of the way into town so he could find a tow.

  “I’ll take some coffee, black, no sugar, and what was it you were recommending Bruce?”

  The waitress smiled. “Ah, Bruce always recommends the biscuits and gravy, but I think that’s what he says about every place he goes.” Bruce opened his mouth, but she looked at him and continued. “Don’t even try to deny it. I’ve heard you with other people in here. Every story you tell usually starts with you being in some location and how great the biscuits and gravy were. Don’t even try and tell me that you don’t.”

  Rob’s smile grew wider as he took the seat to the right of Bruce, trying not to crowd him. The waitress, whose name tag said Evelyn, had turned her back to them to grab the pot of coffee. She was an older woman, probably in her sixties, with permed white hair, but Rob couldn’t help but notice how attractive she was. She was still slim and curvaceous, and Rob wondered how that could be, seeing as she worked around such greasy food all day.

  “I’ll just take scrambled egg whites and dry toast,” Rob said.

  Bruce started to laugh, but he caught himself and snuffed it out. “Been to the doctor lately, have you?”

  “Last week,” Rob admitted.

  Bruce shook his head knowingly and looked back at Evelyn. “So, new owners?” he asked, nodding to the newer looking booths.

  “You know it. Renamed the place and put a lot of new money into it. They sure as hell don’t know what they’re doing, but it sure makes the place look a lot nicer. I’m guessing we’ll be seeing some new owners again in about five months, eight tops. That will make six new owners in four years.” She said the last part wistfully. Rob didn’t think she realized it as she seemed to drift off into a daydream.

  After a second, she was back and looked at the two of them. “At least the place is nice, and they went with a theme. Neither one of them are named Alice. They just took the name from the song and thought it would be cute.”

  Rob laughed. He hadn’t even thought of that.

  She looked at him. “I don’t find it too funny. Naming a place after a song called ‘Alice’s Restaurant Massacre’ after there had been one hell of a blood bath here last year. All the third-shifters were killed, as well as the few customers that had been in here.”

  Rob’s face whitened. He had heard about the killings, but hadn’t realized they had been in here.

  Evelyn poured his coffee, and he relished in the warm aroma that rose up to meet him. Heaven, he thought as he brought the cup to his lips. Sweet, sweet heaven.

  She finished writing down his order on a little slip, turned, and put it on the rotating spindle in front of the cook. Then she rang the bell and spun it around so it faced the kitchen.

  Another bell rang out, this one from the door behind them, and Rob quickly turned. Bruce turned more slowly, more out of curiosity than the instinct to watch his b
ack.

  A tall, thin black man stood in the doorway. He wore a suit, but had the tops buttons undone and the shoot pulled up from where it was tucked into his pants. He looked ragged, but it was probably due to the heat. He wasn’t wearing the suit jacket, and his sleeves were rolled up. His hair was cut short and he was clean-shaven. He estimated him to be someone official; however, his clothes were too cheap to be a businessman and too regular to be a salesman. He wore black slacks with a white pressed shirt. Whenever he saw a salesman, they seemed to like to add color to their suits—blue shirts, sometimes even pink, if the man was comfortable with his sexuality.

  Rob also guessed that the man didn’t get out of his office much. He didn’t seem comfortable out of air conditioning. Sweat dripped down his face, and he had a handkerchief in his hand that he kept wiping his forehead with. He stood in the doorway for a second, waiting for his eyes to adjust, basking in the air conditioning before he walked the rest of the way into the diner.

  The man wasn’t smiling, even as he approached the counter and sat a couple stools from Rob. Evelyn walked down to him, coffee pot in hand, but he didn’t even look up at her as he put a hand over his coffee cup, then turned to Rob.

  “I’m looking for a town called Hammond. I’m trying to find a Dr…,” The man reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a small slip of paper. “Wilson.”

  Rob looked up at Evelyn. The stranger misinterpreted that glance.

  “It’s nothing serious. He just called our offices at an extremely early hour this morning about something. I am on my way through this area, so they asked if I would check it out.”

  Rob shrugged. “Well, I’m not from this area, but—” Evelyn started talking over him.

  “Who’re ‘they’?” she asked.

  The man looked back and forth between them. His face looked puzzled, seemingly trying to figure out whom to respond to first. Either that, or he was trying to come up with a story to tell them that they would believe. Rob wasn’t sure which. He could see the man was uneasy, and he guessed it was because Evelyn had asked the question Rob should have. Not that he was investigating anything, but it was just being inquisitive. As an officer, he was supposed to always ask questions.

  I’ve gone soft after moving out of the city, he thought.

  “Do you know where I can find him?” the man asked, turning his gaze toward the woman.

  Evelyn stood there, reminding him of a woman he had seen on television, some spy show. She looked, acted, and sounded just like the spy’s mother. All she needed was a cigarette in her hand to complete the image. He had new respect for her, saw her being tough as nails, and had a feeling she was not going to tell this man anything until he answered her question first.

  “You didn’t answer my question. Who are ‘they’?” she said back.

  She turned her back to him and walked back to the coffee machine, placing the pot on the warmer. Another bell rang, this one from the kitchen, and two plates emerged on the pass-through. She grabbed the plates and turned toward Rob and Bruce, still keeping her back to the stranger.

  Damn, she was good. Rob smirked to himself and watched the stranger out of the corner of his eye.

  “It’s not a big deal,” the man said.

  “Well, if it’s not a big deal, it wouldn't a big deal for you to tell us,” she said as she turned to him, placing her fist on her hip.

  Rob turned to look at Bruce. He had his head down, but Rob saw the large smile on his lips. Sure, he was always smiling, but Rob could swear he heard the man chuckling under his breath and was having to work at not laughing out loud.

  “Well, if you are not willing to help…,” the man said as he stood. A flash of sunlight caught Rob’s eye. He saw the little badge clipped to the man’s waist, large letters imprinted there.

  “So, what does the CDC want to talk to this doctor about?” Rob asked.

  The man stopped and looked him up and down. “Like I said, the doctor called in something this morning. We get around a dozen calls like it a day, so it’s nothing to be concerned about, but we do investigate them all.”

  “Always so quickly?” Rob asked.

  The man continued to stand there, watching Rob. He guessed he was trying to figure out if he were either a threat, somebody who would start making a lot of noise in the press, or if he were going to be reasonable. Rob figured the man must have taken him for the latter.

  “No, but like I said, I was in the area. My sister is getting married in Ottawa tomorrow night. I needed an excuse to get away from the groom’s family. I don’t mix well with rednecks. No offense.”

  Rob smiled. “None taken.” When Rob heard Bruce give a little grunt from behind him, he wondered if the man had finally lost his smile. He didn’t turn to find out.

  “Well, you’re in Hammond, right on the outskirts,” Evelyn started. “You just have to continue down the road here and you’ll end up on the main street. The highway takes you straight through town. The doc’s office is on the main street on the other side. You can’t really miss it as there is a large sign that says ‘Doctor’s Office’ on it.”

  The stranger started walking toward the door. Evelyn watched him, her gaze intense.

  “Don't mix well with rednecks,” she huffed. “What the hell does he think we all are? Just a bunch of dumb hillbillies?” She glared at Rob. He felt the ice shards she shot his way. “I tell you what. When those people start leaving out of the cities and coming down here, that’s when all this shit always seems to go to hell.”

  Rob felt goose bumps on his skin, but he knew better than to respond. One thing about living in the smaller towns was that some of the people were not as tolerant as they had been back in Chicago. He learned not to argue, but to just let them rant. Otherwise, a new tirade would emerge, and he was not in the mood to hear it.

  Instead, he turned back toward the front door. He couldn’t help it. He was curious as to what was going on. He wondered just what the doctor had called about. Sure, it wasn’t his jurisdiction or his concern, but he found himself wanting to know.

  Chapter 16

  Jason opened the door, holding it so Tina could go in first. She did so slowly, and he quickly lost her to the darkness of the bar. He had only been outside for a minute, but it was hard for him to see, his eyes not yet adjusted back to the dim lighting. His mother never liked to have most of the lights in the bar on. She always felt that if it was too bright in the bar, it would turn most of her patrons away and would cost the bar its character. Her customers always seemed to agree, though he never understood why.

  Jason would rather have had the lights on so he could see, but he suffered. It wasn’t his name on the sign outside, and he would do whatever his mom wanted while hers was. He only worked there maybe one weekend every couple of months anyway.

  When his eyes finally adjusted, he moved behind the bar. Mr. Jones was still sitting there at the end, but unfortunately for Jason, the guy he had been talking to earlier had left. So now Jason was left to entertain the old man.

  He sure wished Sullivan would answer his damn phone. He had tried calling him his patented six times in a row, to no avail. The bastard just wasn’t picking up his damned phone, which meant Jason was stuck there to suffer by himself.

  At least Tina was here now. Maybe she could take care of the old coot so Jason could get away from him. Sure, there was the damn redneck at the other end of the bar playing the “8’s”, which Jason had to get back to, but at least he wasn’t continuous. The guy would play a couple at a time, lose more of his money, tell Jason to put it all away, just to repeat the cycle again five minutes later.

  Jason looked down at the man sitting at the other end of the bar, his empty glass sitting on the edge. He started to walk to him, knowing that a glass had best not be empty for too long in the bar business or the customer would go somewhere else. Or so that was what his mother always told him. Keep the beer coming. If it looked like the person might be close
to being done but is a little slow on saying “no”, fill the glass quickly to get them back in the seat. Someone who stays longer spends more money. It was bar economics.

  Damn, I hate tending bar.

  And just what type of person comes into a bar and starts drinking beer that early in the day? It wasn’t even noon yet. He wished that it surprised him, but he had grown up seeing how early people came into the bar. It wasn’t so much as what people felt was too early. It just mattered how early the bar was open. He saw farmers come in at six in the morning to order their first round. Then there were the third-shifters who, when six in the morning rolled around, were there after work.

  He felt a tug on his arm and turned to see Tina grabbing him. When he saw her in the parking lot, he thought that she didn’t look right; however, he had just written that off as not being able to see too well in the blinding sun. Now he saw that her eyes were puffy and red, her cheeks wet.

  She had been crying. Just what the hell had gone on since this morning?

  “Is Lucy okay?” he asked, suddenly concerned Sure, he wasn’t the best at noticing women when they were upset. Just ask the five or six previous girlfriends who had all gotten frustrated with him for not “caring about their needs” …or so they said. He was known as “mister obvious”, as he often missed these little signs. The ones like his aunt crying. He noticed it now, though it was hard not to. Even Mr. Jones at the end of the bar had shut up and started watching her curiously.

  She nodded but bit her lip in what he guessed was her attempt to hold back another rush of tears that were threatening.

  Jason frowned at her. Just what was going on that had her so upset? He looked at the other end of the bar. The redneck tried to act like he wasn’t paying attention, or that he wasn't upset that his beer wasn’t full yet, but Jason could see the man’s jaw muscles tighten. He was getting impatient.