“Wh–what…” I start, only to pause when the old television in the front corner of the diner cuts to a woman with bright red lipstick and blonde hair pulled back into a slick bun.
She’s standing near a fence, in waist high brush, and I screw my eyes to try and pin the location of the broadcast. We typically only receive live news if the story involves Devil’s Peak, or the two towns over, Shadow Heads and Willow Peak.
A banner slides across the bottom of the screen, stark red, the kind you couldn’t miss even if you wanted to.
BREAKING NEWS.
My heart falls to my stomach, a thick swath of fear and terror wrapping around my limbs.
I drop into the red leather seat opposite the old man who is still taking slow sips of his coffee. I notice that he isn’t looking at the television, he’s watching me.
There’s a slam of a door and Randy, the head chef, walks out, drying his hands on the dirty dish towel thrown over his meaty shoulder.
His jowls flap when he speaks, “What smells so…” He pauses when he sees the breaking news.
“The body of a young woman, likely to be between the ages of eighteen and twenty, was discovered behind me here in the early hours between four and five this m-morning.”The trained voice of the news reporter quivers, a speed bump in what should be a clean performance. Her dark eyes are misty and glittering,her fear yielding cracks into her poker face.“No further details can be shared at this time. However, the grim discovery has been deemed a homicide.”
All breath leaves my body and I can’t move, I almost can’t feel my legs, everything is numb.
The poised, yet rattled voice continues to drift through the speakers.“This comes one day after the third anniversary of Jade Keller’s murder. The sixteen-year-old, found in the tunnel that locals call Devil’s Tunnel.”A pause, then,“There is speculation that this…”I begin to only register every second word.“The town has labeled ‘The Second Killer of Devil’s Peak,’ however…”
There’s a clunk at the table and I turn briskly over my shoulder, leaving the reporter’s announcement behind me.
The old man places his mug down, shaking much more intensely now. His fingers peek from beneath the rust-colored blanket curled beneath his chin.
Something inside of me wants to reach out to him. Because he looks terrified…broken.
Who are you?
What happened to you?
Who hurt you?
Though before I can do anything, I hear a metallic click. It comes from beneath the blanket and I feel my brows pinch. My eyes screw together as I watch the tip of something black and shiny press beneath his chin.
The muzzle of a gun.
A tear rolls down the man's weathered face when he cries, “Pray, Laiken, all we can do is…pray.”
That’s the last thing I hear before the shot rings in my ears—and blood,so much blood, sprays across my face.
I’m at the wheel of my truck, parked in a sequestered lot. Tucked behind the shadows of the town's hardware store, I sit directly across from the glowing red and pink building of Devil's Diner.
“Rosemary” by Deftones is low through my speakers, the guitar echoing softly in my ears. My eyes are bone-dry, and I have to force myself to blink.
I’m watching Laiken carry a clear decanter filled with swamp water toward the far back wall. Though, I’m not quite sure where she is taking it, the place had emptied hours ago.
I grit my teeth, straighten in my seat. With a raised chin, I clasp onto the battered wheel in front of me, pressing my core to the center. My blurry eyes attempt to follow the path she takes, but it proves to be my one and only blind spot.
With an agitated exhale, I slump back into my seat, sling my wrist over the wheel and begin bouncing my left knee. It is an anxious tic, a ‘get in there motherfucker’tic.
My eyes razor to the dash, my face heats, and in glowing orange,5:51stares back at me.
The ache in my chest grows, I attempt shifting it with my thumb when I clock the time again.
5:59.
Eight minutes too long.
