Page 34 of Lovers Fate

“Shit,” I mutter. Hopefully, they’ll fuck off and leave me alone.

There have been times people have knocked on my door. Some have tried the handle, but none have gone beyond that. I hope it stays that way.

The following morning, I open the door and notice big white letters on my green-painted door that read, NOT FOR SALE, and underneath, FUCK AROUND AND FIND OUT.

I couldn’t sleep last night hoping they wouldn’t do anything stupid, but whoever wrote this is funny. I’m not sure if it was the guys from last night, but I doubt it.

I smile, rereading the message, as I check the handle to make sure it’s locked. Rose is out for the weekend studying for exams, but I check my cell phone anyway and see that she hasn’t left me any messages.

It’s one p.m.; the sun is high in the sky, warming up the day. I slept in, and my stomach is begging for mercy. I head out to Moonlight Diner, two miles down the road. It’s the closest place to grab a bite to eat without a car, and I have some time to spare before my due at the club. It’ll give me time to contemplate over a cup of coffee. Apartment or car? Either way, I’ll have to start looking for both.

The wind picks up, blowing dead leaves off the trees. The smell of grass and earth floats in the air. The sign for the Moonlight Diner pops out from behind the tall trees.

I walk in; the smell of coffee and sausage singes my nose.

They’ve changed the place a bit, judging by the pictures they hung up like a storybook from the years this place has been open. Electronic payment devices now sit on the tables, eliminating the need to pay at the front register. Every table has a jukebox with a scanner, so you can tap your card and select music.

The woman with a red uniform refilling the napkin dispenser looks up. “Morn’n,” she greets me with a warm smile.

“Good morning,” I say with a soft smile.

She pushes the napkins in the dispenser without looking away and says, “Have a seat where you like. What can I get you to drink to start?”

“Coffee,” I reply.

“Cream?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Coming right up.”

I took a seat in a booth toward the back, and the server was already approaching me with a cup of coffee.

“Thank you,” I tell her when she sets it down.

“No problem, simply scan the QR code to place your order on the app.”

I nod in response. From where I sit, I can only see three people waiting tables and two cooks throughout the entire place.

I was about to take a sip of warm coffee when my phone vibrated in my pocket, followed by a piercing sound that caused me to spill it on the table. It’s an Amber Alert.

“Dammit,” I mutter, reaching for my phone and catching the notification of another girl gone missing. It’s the third one this month.

Reading the alert makes my blood run cold.

Shit,” I mumble.

She’s fifteen years old. Brown hair. Brown eyes. A ninth grader from a neighboring town. Her name is Brenda McKenna. She was last seen yesterday after school. A wave of protectiveness and anxiety runs through my veins, wanting nothing more than to help find her safe and sound.

Simon and Rachael weren’t kidding when they said girls go missing this time of year. The ones found were raped and mutilated. They were dumped like trash in the woods or on the side of the road. The police found some of them, chopped into pieces, floating inside a black bag in the river. Meanwhile, the police continue to search for the remaining ones. When they discover their remains, their pictures appear on news alerts, but they quickly fade into obscurity as soon as the news feed refreshes or a new story breaks. The worst part is that anyone could be behind the killings. They have no leads or witnesses.

I pull out my reloadable bank card and tap the scan icon on the jukebox, flipping through the music selection before placingmy order. I press my selection and look up when “Edge of Seventeen” by Stevie Nicks plays through the speakers, and the server starts singing along, placing three plates at the booth’s far end.

Scanning the other booths for the first time, I’m the only other customer. The other server looks my way. Her cheeks are pink with rosacea, full-figured, probably in her late fifties.

gives me a wink for choosing a good song.

I look through the menu on my phone and order a burger, fries, and a strawberry milkshake. I’m going to need a hefty meal to get me through the night at the club.

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