Page 218 of Micah
Number of suspects.
She shouldn’t be alone.
She should have Joan and Milly—fuck, Milly is unreliable. I knew that. Should’ve replaced her.
Freddy probably left already.
Jesus Christ.
I should've stayed.
The thought hits like a hammer.
No.
Don't go there.
Fix the problem.
Feel guilty later.
I crest the hill overlooking Dry Creek.
Too fucking far.
I stand on the accelerator.
The Watering Hole comes into view.
Front windows shattered.
One neon sign hangs crooked, sparks spitting onto the sidewalk.
The front door is closed.
No customers outside.
No movement.
Too quiet.
Wrong.
Everything about it is wrong.
I kill the truck before it's fully stopped.
The door is already open when my boots hit the pavement.
The smell reaches me first.
Beer.
Whiskey.
Broken wood.
Fear.
