Page 38 of Follow Her Down
“I’ve been calling his cell all morning,” he continued.“We’ve got inventory reports due, and the beer distributor needs signing.”
“I haven’t seen him today, sir,” I say, injecting just the right amount of confusion into my voice.“I figured he was running late.”
“Fucking useless,” Dempsey spits.“This is the third time this month he just disappeared on me.I swear to God, I’m going to fire his useless ass.”
I make a sympathetic noise, hiding my smile even though he can’t see me.“That’s a shame.I’m sure he’ll turn up.”
“Well, until he bothers to show his face, you’re in charge.Got it?I need those inventory numbers by seven o’clock tonight, and someone’s gotta deal with the beer guy when he comes.”
I hesitate for dramatic effect.“Me?But I don’t have any managerial training—“
“You’ve worked there, what, two weeks?You know where the damn paperwork is.Just do it, okay?Consider it a trial run.Rick’s been slipping lately anyway, and you seem to have your head on your shoulders.”
I bite back a snort, even as the opportunity dangles before me like a ripe fruit.
I reach for it, my voice carefully measured.“Well, if you’re sure…I’ll give it a try.”
“Good.Keys to the office are in the register drawer.Call me when you’ve got those numbers.”
The line goes dead.I replace the receiver slowly, savoring the moment.From the ashes of Rick’s dismembered corpse, a promotion rises.Poetic justice at its finest.
The rest of the day passes in a blur of mundane tasks elevated by my new authority.I help customers, stock shelves, and spend an hour in Rick’s tiny office sorting through the mess of paperwork he left behind.The beer distributor comes and goes, clearly relieved to deal with someone who isn’t perpetually unorganized.I sign for the delivery with a flourish, enjoying the weight of the pen in my hand.
Power, even in this small, grubby way, tastes sweet.
During a lull in the evening, I pull out my phone and search for nearby dog parks.I save the locations to my phone, a little thrill running through me.It’s time to turn up the heat onhimwith a little gift, not of the severed hand variety, though.Maybe later.Not of the severed dog part either because eww.I love dogs, so much so that I’d once considered vet school, but the idea of steeping myself in the smell of books decided my future for me.
Still, though, the doggy smiles on the Google search results make me smile.
The bell over the door chimes, and I glance up, sliding my phone away.A male customer needs help finding the bathroom.I point him in the right direction, my smile growing teeth.Obviously I don’t mention that less than twenty-four hours ago, a man was being dismembered on that very floor.
At close to midnight, I begin closing procedures, each task performed with meticulous care.This is my domain now.My perfect little stage set for the next act of my revenge.
I lock the front door and flip the sign toClosed.The keys jingle pleasantly in my hand as I make my final rounds.My keys, my responsibility.I run my fingers along the shelves, straightening products that don’t need straightening, like a queen surveying her new kingdom.
It’s not much of a kingdom with its fluorescent lights, linoleum floors, and the perpetual smell of hot dogs rotating on the warmer.But it’s mine.A foothold.A step closer tohim.
I check the bathroom one last time.No hint of the violence that transpired here.No whisper of Rick’s final moments.Just the sharp smell of industrial cleaner and the gleam of freshly scrubbed tiles.
I turn off the lights and head for the exit, locking the door behind me.The night air is cool against my skin as I walk to my car, my keys clutched in my fist.Other than my boarded-up basement, now I have keys to yet another crime scene.
Progress.
18
Sera
Theceilingbleedsyetagain.
More footprints, thicker this time.Angrier.They don’t just walk across the plaster above my bed; they smear, like whoever made them stumbled.This time, the trail starts near the window, crosses the center of the ceiling, descends diagonally down the wall beside my bedroom door, and tracks into the hall.
Leading me somewhere?
I lie still, watching the early gray light filter through the grime on my window and catch the rusty-brown tracks.They look like old sins, like the stainsheleft inside me.
I breathe in the dust and stillness of the old house.It holds its breath with me, waiting.
Don’t.
