Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
But I still figured she would stick to the plan of staying inside of Barlowe House her whole shift. Where she had Russ, Marshall, and Perish to look out for her.
“I thought she’d cleared it with you,” he said, looking immediately guilty. But not worried.
“Where’d she go?” I asked, figuring maybe she wanted to pick up some lunch. Or needed some girl shit for her cramps or whatever else.
“Her friend showed up and asked her to meet for coffee,” he said.
“She doesn’t have friends,” I said, shaking my head. The closest thing to friends she had were Russ and the residents at work. Maybe, if you were stretching the term, Barry from across the hall. But I doubted he would show up at her work. Or that she would leave to go meet him for coffee.
“Sorry, maybe that wasn’t quite right. It wasn’t really her friend. One of her dad’s old buddies,” he clarified.
My face must have fallen, because Russ immediately stiffened.
“Fuck,” he said.
“Who? Who was it?”
“I don’t know. I think he said… Bill? Bob? Something like that. Big, burly guy, some silver in brown hair, brown eyes.”
“Age?”
“Mid-fifties, maybe? Like her old man would’ve been.”
“Where’d they say they were going? She’s Bean Around?”
“No, she wouldn’t go that far on a lunch break,” Russ said. “There’s Deja Brew just a block or so away,” he said, waving in the general direction.
I didn’t stop to ask more questions.
Hell, the damn steel tumbler fell from my hand to dance around on the floor as I turned and ran to my bike.
I didn’t know what I really believed about god or the universe as a whole, but I was praying to whatever was out there that she really was just having a cup of coffee with her father’s old friend.
Something about the way my stomach twisted into endless knots on the short ride over, though, told me that this wasn’t the case.
I’d never noticed this Deja Brew place before.
And that was likely because it was the sole business inside a small strip of abandoned stores. The others were so run down that you didn’t imagine there would be anything in the center, so your mind kind of just moved over it without noticing it.
But there it was.
A brick-fronted building with picture windows.
Scrolled across one of them was the words Deja Brew with a coffee bean in place of the A.
Ignoring the no parking sign out front, I left my bike and made my way inside.
Honestly, if it wasn’t in a shitty area with bad street value, and if the coffee was good, it would probably give She’s Bean Around a run for its money.
The interior had a bit of an industrial feel with exposed brick walls, cement floors, and some of the ductwork showing.
There were half a dozen small tables all set up.
But Sylvie wasn’t at a single one of them.
Feeling the sick make its way up my throat, I reached for my phone and approached the counter where a young woman was standing in a tank top, her tatted arms on display, her light green hair pulled back into a bun, but the bangs swooped down near her almost black eyes.
“Something tells me you’re not here for coffee,” she said, sounding a mix of disappointed, resigned, and curious.
“No,” I said, but tossed a fifty on the counter.
Clearly in need of business, without much pride to hold her back, she reached for it and pocketed it.
“What do you need?”
“Have you seen this woman?” I asked, holding out my phone.
I’d caught her outside the clubhouse, sitting on the ground with her arms wrapped around an elated Nitro, a big old smile on her face.
I’d never taken a picture of a woman before, but couldn’t seem to control the urge to snap that one and hold onto it.
“No,” she said, shaking her head, making my stomach plummet. “Unless you’re an asshole girlfriend-beater, in which case, yes. I have seen her and hidden her away, and you will never touch her again.”
“Fuck,” I hissed, slamming my fist into the counter, making her jump, but she didn’t back up. And it didn’t escape me that her hand moved under the counter. A gun, a bat, a knife? Who knew. But good for her. “Did you see a big guy in here? Brown hair with some silver. Brown eyes. Mid-fifties? Trucker vibe?”
“Mid-fifties? I mean maybe it’s love, but it sounds like she traded down.”
“Listen, I think she’s been taken,” I said, reaching past her to grab a pad of paper by the register, and jotting down my name. “If you see either of them, call me,” I demanded, turning and rushing out.
On the street, I tried to take a deep breath, to focus past the panic.
If she met him… somewhere, her car had to be there, right?
She wasn’t on the street, but it looked like there was a lot out back.