This is normal.
Totally normal.
As I come close enough to the shop to see inside, I spot Chloe standing in the middle of the store. My shoulders relax a little, but then I see her holding her hands up in a weird way—almost like she’s at gunpoint.
It can’t be.
I slam on the brakes, but the truck doesn’t make a sound. I squint to try to make out what’s going on, but I can’t see anyone else in the café. She can’t be standing like that for no reason, and something inside me panics.
Adrenaline fires in my gut, and my pulse starts thundering. Before I even have time to think, I’m turning the wheel of the truck, and I pull over on the opposite side of the street.
I run at full speed across the street, propelled by anxious energy and a suddenly desperate fear that my instincts were right.
I’m a big, strong guy, but if there’s somebody armed in there…
Fuck.
I don’t have a plan, just a frantic need to get into the store and make sure my mind’s just playing tricks on me.
I didn’t see what I thought I saw.
But when I get to the front of the store, it becomes obvious I saw exactly what I thought. A dark figure with a mask over his face and his head down comes barreling through the front door.
I see him coming, and I stand with my feet braced, knees bent, ready to fucking tackle his ass.
He seems as shocked to see me as I am to see him.
He stops, pants a little, and grunts in a voice that sounds fake-low, “Get the fuck out of the way before I fuck you up.”
“I’m going to fuck you up, you piece of shit.” I lunge to tackle him, but the asshole is skinny, and he rolls to one side like he’s been dodging the law his whole life.
I grab for a handful of his hoodie and get a decent grip on it. The guy knows he’s about to get caught, and he is wiggling and kicking like a trapped wild beast.
For some reason, the dude isn’t punching me, isn’t doing anything but trying to wrestle away from the fistful of hoodie that’s slipping through my fingers.
I’m able to land a couple punches to his head, but they don’t slow him down. He’s wiry as fuck. He grunts and cusses me out with each blow.
He drops a plain blue zipper bag, the exact same kind that Jack uses to take cash into the bank.
He was fucking robbing the store.
My vision goes red.
I scream, a primal, murderous sound, but the guy knows that I’m big and now very pissed off.
Without a second look at the bag he dropped, he takes off running at full speed.
I debate following him, but it’s pretty clear I’m not likely to catch him. He’s dressed for escape, and I’m in steel-toe work boots.
My heart is throbbing in my chest as I reach down and grab the blue money bag from the ground so the fucker can’t run back and get it.
I yank open the door and start shouting, “Chloe! Chloe!”
I find her exactly where I’d seen her as I crept down the street. But she’s not standing. She’s lying in a heap on the floor with her eyes closed.
“Chloe!” I yell again and drop to my knees. I fumble in my pocket for my phone and dial the cops, and with my other hand, I reach down and press a hand to her cheek.
She’s ice-cold.
