“Hey, hon!”
I hate being called hon.
“Did you get my order in?”
I’ve never bothered trying to perfect my customer service smile, so I don’t bother with one now. I settle my elbows on the counter, however, and try not to be obvious when I sigh to brace myself for the coming thirty minutes of explaining to her, yet again, that she’ll get an email when we get her order.
She’ll never learn, anyway.
“Hi, Ms. Woolings,” I greet. “So, about your order…”
The closing checklistis so ingrained in my mind at this point that I barely need to focus on it as I work my way through it. By the time I’m done, I’m a few minutes ahead of schedule, and I hesitate, glaring at the time on my phone.
Alicia won’t actually care if I leave five minutes early, but I prefer to stay as long as I’ve promised I would. Integrity, or whatever, is something I’m working on.
I have to work on something after all.
Shoving my hands in my pockets, I jump slightly as my fingers brush against a rough paper, and I pull out the now-crinkled manila envelope to stare at it, bemused. Honestly, I’d forgotten about it until this moment.
Might as well do something to kill a few minutes, right?
With the expectation of it being junk mail of some kind, I tear open the top and dump the contents onto the counter in front of me. A USB drive clatters out, making me wince at my clumsy handling of it, followed by a little card.
A red ribbon tied to the USB stick catches my eye first, and I pick up the tag on it to read the words WATCH ME FIRST before looking to see the card has READ ME SECOND written in swirling red letters that tell me someone cares about their penmanship more than I ever could. For a moment, I consider doing the opposite of the instructions, but my curiosity gets the better of me. Looking around, I find the laptop that Alicia always leaves and open it, unsurprised to find it unused and in need of an update.
She barely does any of the work she’s supposed to, even though she says she’s going to start taking the laptop home to do it.
But tonight, that’s a blessing for me.
The sun has set when I glance out the window, and I make sure that the door is locked and the sign is turned to CLOSED before I plug the USB stick into the laptop, waiting for it to load on the screen. When it does, I see the only thing on it is a video, and curiosity has me clicking before I can think better of it.
The video is dark, and for a few moments, I have no idea what I’m looking at. Finally, I realize that the movement on the screen is a person, and I turn up the brightness in the dark video to try to see?—
Fuck.
The person in the video isme.
I see myself as I turn, my face recognizable in the moonlight. I’m glancing around with my flashlight, never quite finding the person videoing me. Horror makes my blood run cold as I watch, and in the video, I see myself eventually roll Alan off the cliff before standing there a moment longer, talking to myself like I did that night on the cliff. Though at the distance of the person filming, I can only hear the low murmur of my voice, instead of what I actually said.
Butfuck.That’s definitely me. There’s no way around it, when I looked directly at the camera and stared at the area where I was filmed from. Numbly, I pick up the little card, my fingers deftly picking open the envelope to pull out the note inside.
Meet me tomorrow night.
10 PM. The place you did it.
Don’t be late.
I’m taken aback enough that my lip twitches in a bemused grin, and I shake my head before yanking the USB out of the laptop and making sure nothing transferred over to Alicia’s computer. Once I’m sure it’s just as clean as I found it, I close the lid and run my fingers over the swirly, fancy writing on the card.
None of my friends in Ohio write like this. At least, not the ones who would send me something to freak me the hell out. But that doesn’t mean I can assume, so I dig my phone out of my pocket and scroll through my contacts until I come across Cass’s name. Without hesitating, I call him, still fidgeting with the card and the USB in turn.
My long-time friend picks up the phone on the second ring, and I can hear the expectation of a problem in his voice when he answers with a quick, soft,“Sierra.”
I make a face. “Tova,” I correct.
He snorts.“Sure. What’s up?”Judging by that, I already know his answer to my question, and I tap my fingers against the glass.
“You’re not up here, right?”
