"You seem nervous."
"I'm fine." But her eyes dart toward the window, toward the gas station across the street, and I understand.
"Carl give you trouble?" Dom asks, his voice gentle in a way I've never heard before.
The waitress's face goes pale. "Carl? What? I don’t…"
"It's okay, you don't have to tell us," I say. The poor girl looks on the verge of a panic attack. What is it with small towns and assholes?
But to my surprise, she tells us anyway. Maybe because we're strangers, sometimes there is more safety in offloading your fears and problems to strangers than it is to those close to you. And judging by the nerves this girl carries, she needs to speak to someone. We all have our ceiling of limits.
"He's my uncle," she says quietly. "He owns the gas station. And he…" She stops, swallows hard. "Let’s just say he’s not a good person."
"Has he hurt you?" Dom asks.
She doesn't answer, and that’s confirmation enough.
"What's your name?" I ask.
"Lisa."
"Lisa, when does your shift end?"
"Six."
I glance at the clock on the wall, that’s four hours away
"Okay," I say. "Go put our order in and we'll be here when you get off to make sure you leave safely."
“Why?” she asks, confused and I get it.
“Because we can help you. I know we’re strangers, but you can trust us, especially after experiencing your uncle’s asshole manners.”
“I don’t want any trouble,” she says, a hint of panic.
“Hey, you won’t get in any trouble. I promise.”
She nods and walks away, and Dom's hand tightens around mine.
"We're fucking doing this," he says.
"Yeah. We are."
We hang around until Lisa leaves at six, she walks quickly to a beat-up Honda in the parking lot, while her eyes manically keep checking the gas station, the poor thing is scared to death. What has that bastard done to her? I smile gently at her as she waves at us while we watch her drive away. As soon as she is out of sight, we cross the street to the gas station. The OPEN sign is still flickering, but the pumps are empty of customers.
We try to open the door, but it’s locked. That’s a strange time to shut up shop, but I don’t see anyone at the counter inside.
"Around back," I say.
We circle the building and find a rear entrance where there is a metal door, luckily for us, it’s unlocked. Dom pushes it openand we slip inside. Some townies are just too damn trusting, leaving their doors unlocked.
The back room is exactly what I expected, a fucking mess with boxes of inventory, a desk covered in paperwork, and the disgusting smell of mold and stale beer. We move through the room silently, and I can feel my heart hammering against my ribs.
This is different from the bar, as it’s premeditated. Intentional.
We find Carl in the back of the shop in another small room, counting up the cash from the day. He looks up when he hears us, and his expression shifts from shock to anger and then to concern in the span of a heartbeat.
"What the fuck!"
