“Are you sure you’re okay to help close up tonight?” Rick asks. He eyes the other cook warily.
“I’ll help the kiddo. Don’t worry too much,” the other cook,Scott,says. He is the one that is close to Axel.
Rick rubs his beard thoughtfully. “If you say so. Keep an eye out for her, the boys aren’t here tonight.”
Scott inclines his head as he continues to break down the equipment. “Sunday, why don’t you head out then? It’s getting late.”
“I told the brothers I would be staying til close too, that I wanted to help as much as I could. It was the only way I could get them to agree to let me go out tonight. I have been cooped up in the house for too long, and the hospital even longer before that. I’m practically healed now, but neither of the brothers will listen to me, so I’m going to prove it.”
Scott grumbles, but doesn’t argue.
“Good night, Rick!” I call out over my shoulder before continuing the task at hand.
He offers a wave as he leaves through the backdoor, locking it behind him.
And then I get back to work breaking down my station, wiping down the cutting board, spraying off the trays. Time passes in a blur as I methodically make my way through all of the tasks, my anxiety coiling tighter and tighter in my chest.
“Kiddo, it’s getting late. You really ought to get going. Don’t you have plans tonight?” Scott heaves. He’s on his knees now, spraying out the floor, cleaning out every nook and cranny.
My eyes find the clock. He’s right. It is nearing midnight.
“You sure?”
“I’m all set, I promise, I do this almost every night. I enjoy the quiet.”
Hanging up my apron, I take one last look around the kitchen.
This restaurant that the brothers built with their blood, sweat, and tears. And I am impressed, just as I was the first time I realized it was theirs.
But there’s no more time for nostalgia.
It’s time to follow through on my plans. It’s time to see if it works.
***
Tugging the restaurant door behind me, I make my way down the steps to Darius’s truck. The brothers—very unwillingly—lent it to me. The three purple threads are still present, they are the ones that never disappear, but there is now a fourth one.
It is red and pulsating, it is in the direction of the truck.
Instinctively, I know my plan will work tonight. Relief and terror form in my gut, cycling together.
When I am on the last step, I sense their presence.
Goosebumps prickle up and along my skin.
“Sunday!”
The man steps out from behind the truck.
“Hey munchkin! Just wanted to make sure you made it home safe and sound.”
When I saw the sheet with my face, with the wordmunchkin, it didn’t take long to put it together. To remember who had called me by that nickname. It was too much of a coincidence.
It was heartbreaking when I did. But it made sense.
The Thorneswouldkeep a spy in our midst.
15
