“Yeah. I got it. You’re starting to scare me.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to.” I place the call on speaker phone, trying to remain calm as I start my car. I peel out of my parking spot and down the main road that will take me off campus.
I have an eerie feeling. What are the chances that all four of her tires went flat from broken glass in the parking lot? It seems highly unlikely to me.
“How was work tonight?” I ask. I need more information. I don’t understand how something like this could happen.
“Really busy. A lot of regulars showed up for my last night. It’s probably a good thing you couldn’t make it. We needed your table,” she jokes, but she’s hiding something.
“I’m sure Margo appreciated the extra tips from customers who have more than one beer a night.”
“She did but I think she missed seeing your face for whatever reason,” she says, then hesitates.
“What? You sound like you’ve got something else to say.”
“He came back.”
Her words send a chill down my spine. I know exactly who she's talking about and it makes me hit the gas a little harder. “Did anything happen?”
“No, well, it was weird. He was just sitting there drinking a beer. It was creepy.”
If I wasn’t so fucking worried at the moment, I would take offense to this statement.
“What kind of car is in the parking lot?”
“I don’t know. It's really dark. It’s white and it has a black racing stripe down the side.”
Fuck. That’s the asshole’s car. He did this. I know it in my gut.
“Is there anyone in the car? Can you tell?”
“I can’t. I’m sorry. It probably belongs to someone who was too drunk to drive home,” she says, with a slight tremble in her voice. She’s putting on her strong act. Sydney has always been the kind of person to keep it together until the very end.
“Don’t apologize. You’re doing good.” The light turns red in front of me and I want to be mad but this gives me a minute to send a text to Hart.
He’s the only person I know who’ll be up. He’s always up late watching documentaries with Lauren.
Me
I need you to call the cops and send them to Ray’s.
Sydney’s tires got slashed. I’m driving there now. I’ll explain later.
Hart
Give me a minute.
I tap my thumb against the steering wheel waiting for the light and his text. I’ll feel better knowing cops are enroute.
Hart
Done. They’re on their way. Text us when you can.
“You’re quiet,” she says, cutting through all my worried thoughts.
“That’s not new information.”
“Have you always been quiet?”
