Chapter 8
OLIVIA
“ D amn it,” I mutter as I hang up. It’s the third time I’ve tried calling Chloe, only to get her voicemail.
For three days now, I’ve been texting and calling to no avail. To say that I’m worried would be an understatement. Chloe always calls or texts back, even when she’s busy.
The diner is packed at this hour, and Melinda’s working hard to keep the flow seamless between the kitchen and our tables while I handle the drinks and the pastries.
“You’re not at the top of your game today,” Melinda tells me at one point.
I’m halfway through refilling the pastry display. I turn to look at her. “What do you mean? Did I do something wrong?”
“Oh, no, honey, it’s not that,” she laughs lightly as she pushes a cart loaded with dirty dishes through the kitchen’s swinging door. “It’s just that you’re usually a lot chattier with our customers, and it’s reflecting in your tip jar I’m afraid. ”
I follow her gaze and realize she’s right. Having been so worried about Chloe, I’ve paid less attention to our clients, and the tip jar is only a third of what it would normally look like on a busy morning like this.
“Is everything okay?” Melinda asks.
“I’m worried about my best friend. I can’t get ahold of her.” I load the last of the pies into the display, briefly hypnotized by the smell of butter pastry wrapped around layers of cherry compote, pecan cream, roasted pistachios, and vanilla custard. “She never falls off the radar like this.”
“Maybe she’s just busy. Are you talking about your friend Chloe? Mrs. Jackson’s granddaughter?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Tell you what,” Melinda says, glancing over to the remaining tables.
I hadn’t noticed the crowd thinning over the past half hour, having been so busy flanking her on the table service, among other things.
“Take a ten-minute break, maybe call Chloe’s parents and see where she’s at.
Worst case, I can get Carlos to reach out to the Devon sheriff, maybe do a wellness check.
I know these law enforcement types often help each other out. ”
“That’s not necessary,” I reply, instantly alarmed by the prospect. “I’m sure she’s fine, probably stuck in some unending seminar or something.”
Melinda gives me a curious look. “Okay, well, take ten minutes either way, hon. I can handle the rest of these folks.”
“Are you sure, Mel?”
“Yes. I don’t want you burning out this soon,” she laughs wholeheartedly. “Besides, you’ll be back just in time to help me clear tables eight and nine. They look like they’re about to ask for the check.”
I give Melinda a slight nod of appreciation and take my service apron off, then head out through the back door into a small courtyard nestled behind the building. I try calling Chloe again. There’s still no answer, so I try her parents.
“Disconnected? What the hell,” I mutter, my concern swelling as I realize that while Chloe’s phone is just off, her parents’ line was taken down completely. “That can’t be right,” I say out loud.
I go online and check the Devon Gazette , one of the local newspapers. They’re usually up to speed on the happenings in town. Maybe there was a bad storm or something.
“Oh, God,” I whisper, my knees turning to jelly as I read the headline.
FATAL CAR CRASH KILLS CITY HALL EMPLOYEES
Chloe’s parents work at City Hall. I read through the article, my fingers trembling as I struggle to hold the phone as their names come across the screen. Joseph and Elizabeth …
“No, no, no…”
Their portraits pop up next to an image from the car crash. I recognize the SUV, mangled and turned upside down at the foot of the old stone bridge. I know exactly where it happened.
Two bodies were recovered, and while it is believed that their daughter, Chloe, was in the car with them, Sheriff Bennett says the search is still underway to retrieve her body.
Oh God. This can’t be happening .
Nothing about it makes any sense, and as much as I don’t want to slip down the rabbit hole of conspiracy theories, I know Marcus must’ve had something to do with this, so I keep reading, hoping for some kind of personal angle from the reporter.
Official sources say there was no sign of foul play, but one eyewitness described a black pickup fleeing the scene of the accident mere moments after the SUV went over the bridge.
My blood runs cold as ice.
My heart breaks into a million little pieces as I cling to the hope that maybe, just maybe, Chloe made it out alive. If there’s no body, then maybe she survived.
But now her parents’ deaths are on my head, maybe hers, too.
Oh God, please let her be alive.
I shake my head and the thoughts away, then slip my phone back into my pocket and go back to work.
By the time the afternoon sun shines into the diner with its incandescent glow from the western horizon, the place is mostly empty.
Melinda is resting at home while her husband prepares the kitchen workstations for the dinner crowd.
We’re expecting quite a few folks tonight since the Thursday specials are a local favorite.
I check my phone. There’s nothing new online about the accident.
No text or callback from Chloe either.
“There she is,” Beck says with a smile as he comes in. Dax and Leo are right behind him .
With a little effort, I muster a weak smile in return, wishing I could find all the comfort I need in their presence, but my worries are all-consuming, relentlessly gnawing at my stomach. “Hey, guys,” I manage. “Slow day at the station?”
“Let’s pray it stays that way,” Dax says. “The town is still reeling from that glass factory fire. The funerals were held earlier today.”
“What’s up with you?” Leo asks me.
It’s damn near impossible to hide anything from him. His dark brown eyes practically scan my soul as he comes closer and leans over the counter, beckoning me to meet him halfway for a quick kiss.
I welcome the reassuring sweetness of his lips, but his tightening grip on my wrist tells me I won’t get away that easily. “Nothing,” I reply, “just tired.”
“No, there’s something going on,” Dax agrees, narrowing his steely blues at me.
“What am I, some kind of open book?” I ask in genuine exasperation. “I’m fine! I’m just… fine.”
Beck gives me a surprised look. “Right, that’s why you’re literally on a razor-sharp edge, Olivia. Talk to us. What’s going on?”
“How about some coffee? You still have quite a few hours left on your shift, don’t you?”
He doesn’t give up easily. Instead, he moves around the counter and comes into the bar area while I nervously glance back at the kitchen door, worried that Jim might pop his head out for whatever reason .
“Relax. He’s probably scarfing down his stash of triple chocolate chip cookies while Melinda’s at home napping,” Beck reassures me. “What’s going on with you, Olivia?”
“Beck, I promise, I’m okay,” I manage.
Leo scoffs and shakes his head, taking a seat at the counter next to Dax. “That’s a lie. I thought we made it perfectly clear that we thrive on honesty and transparency, Olivia.”
“I don’t know what to tell you.”
I’m afraid to tell them, truth be told, because if I tell them about Chloe, they’ll want to know more. They’ll pick up on my dread regarding Marcus eventually because they’re smart and inquisitive men. They see things in people, things in me, though I work so hard to hide them.
It will just lead to the whole ugly truth.
They can’t know the whole ugly truth.
Because if they do, they won’t want to have anything to do with me.
I shake my head slowly. “I’m just really tired, okay? It’s been one hell of a busy morning. Maybe I’m PMS-ing a little. I don’t know.”
“You’re going to go with that excuse, huh?” Beck mutters, lips tickling my ear.
It sends a thousand tiny shivers along my spine as he glances down and notices my nipples puckering boldly through the fabric of my shirt. A smile slits his face as his gaze captures mine.
“It’s the truth,” I whisper. I don’t remember when my last period was, but it’s to be expected. These men sure know how to scramble my brain into mush every damn time.
“Do you know what the mark of a good person is?” he asks in a low voice. I shake my head. “They are terrible liars. But you, Olivia, you’re a good and wonderful person.”
He doesn’t insist. He’s made his point. Dax and Leo don’t seem pleased about it either, but they relent as well.
Beck pulls back and joins them at the counter while I take a moment to regain my focus.
A second later, I place three white mugs in front of them, filling each with freshly brewed coffee.
The smell soothes me while I try not to crumble on the inside.
They know I’m lying. I know I let them down. Someday, maybe I’ll get a chance to make it up to them, but in the meantime, I need to figure out what the hell happened back in Devon.
I need to find Chloe.
“Crap,” Dax mutters as his phone goes off.
At the same time, we all hear the siren go off across the street. The fire station is alive; alarms wailing and red lights flashing as one of the trucks pulls out.
“That’s Engine. They need Squad and Ladder, too,” Leo reads the alert on his phone. “There’s another factory fire.”
“Another arson?” I ask in disbelief.
Beck heads for the door, his jaw locked as he prepares for the worst. “Possibly,” he says. “We’ll be back as soon as we can.”
“Be careful,” I call out as I watch them leave .
I worry about them every time they go out on a call. I know it’s part of who they are. I should accept that, and I try to, I really do, but I still worry. Anything could go wrong. One or all of them could get hurt. And having just found them… well, losing them isn’t an option for me.
It’s why I’m keeping all of these secrets, even if it costs me their trust.