Chapter 5
ELLA
Friday night.
Friday night and I’m back in my car outside of the gas station.
I played my life with Carrie over and over on a loop in my scattered brain all last night and all day today. I googled the symptoms of prescription addiction. I pinpointed every time she acted euphoric. Every time she acted depressed. Every time she was sick with a headache or nausea. I focused on every time she dozed off for a nap during the day. I thought about every time she rubbed or touched her face. I fixated on every all-nighter she pulled to study for a test. I concentrated on the ten pounds she lost in the last few months before she disappeared.
I should have paid more attention.
I failed my sister.
I’m a fucking failure.
I debated telling Marcum what I found out. It would be so easy. Easy to pass the buck. Easy to pass the responsibility. But I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.
I’m stubborn. And I’m foolish. Like a mouse eating food from a mousetrap. I ignore the risk for the reward.
I’m not sure this situation has a reward… but I guess I’ll find out soon enough.
The dollar store and fast-food restaurant are busy tonight. The gas station too. I watch as the light inside the garage next door turns off. A few minutes later, an old truck drives away from the back door. Grabbing my wristlet, I zip my phone into the middle pocket and head into my destiny.
***
I take a deep breath and straighten my spine the second I see him walking over to my table. Lifting my chin in the air, I study him. His hair is covered with a red ballcap, and he scratches at a scab on the side of his nose. His face is a contradiction. Swollen, yet gaunt.
A new cashier just came in so he must be off duty now. Sliding into the opposite side of my booth, he picks up a piece of chicken I didn’t eat and pops it into his mouth. “So, you wanna tell me why you’ve been parked in my gas station, watching me for the past two hours?” He waggles his eyebrows. “You like what you see?”
Like what I see? I’d be more turned on watching a colonoscopy. “Your gas station? You own it?”
He laughs, rubbing his tongue across his stained teeth. He pulls a cigarette from the pocket of his shirt and twists it around in his hand. “Nah, who wants all that pressure. I just work here.”
“You mean you work here and sell here.” I can’t believe I just said that. My heart feels like it’s being powered by a stampede of wild mustangs.
His eyes narrow and he looks me up and down, slowly, like an oscillating fan moving back and forth. “What do you think you know about it? You work for the police?”
“No.”
“You know if I ask you, you have to tell me the truth. Police entrapment and all that.”
What a dumbass. He’s watched too many movies. “I said I’m not police.”
“Well, if you’re looking to make a deal, this isn’t the way to do it. Whoever sent you here should’ve given you full instructions. You’ve only been doing half of it. Buying fried chicken ain’t the other half.”
Well, I guess he just confirmed my suspicion that the sweet tea has something to do with it. That must be the ‘half’ I’m getting right.
“She doesn’t know I’m here,” I say.
He smells his cigarette. “And who is she ?”
“My sister. Her name is Caroline. Carrie.”
His eyes grow wide as saucers. “No shit?” He vehemently shakes his head, “I don’t know anything about her going missing. The cops were here. I gave them the videotapes of the store. I answered all of their questions.”
“Yes, but did they ask the right questions?”
That comment strikes him as funny and his cackle fills the distance between us. “You’re kind of a bitch. You know that?”
“So, I’ve been told.” It’s true. I’ve been told that more than once.
He grunts, flipping the cigarette back and forth between his fingers. “Everyone calls me Trash.”
I roll my shoulders back, “Ella.”
“So why are you really here, Ella?” His tongue flicks out to lick his cigarette.
He’s not even lit the damn thing, and he’s treating it like a long-lost lover.
“I know my sister was using. And I know my sister was selling. It all leads back here. I’m not trying to get anyone into any trouble. I’m just trying to find out what happened to Carrie. Does someone know where she is?”
He studies my face for sincerity, and for the first time, I notice that his pupils are small and constricted. “Well, I don’t know where she is.”
“What about your friends? Business associates? Would they know where she is?”
“Business associates?” He laughs. “I’m not pushing Mary Kay, sweetheart.”
I wanna punch him.
When I don’t say anything else, he sighs dramatically. “Look, I’m late for a party. If you promise not to cause any problems, you can come. Ask around. Just be careful what you say. Don’t act like a rat. That shit will get you in trouble.” He swings his skinny body from the booth and pushes the door open. “You coming?”
Mouse meet trap.
I hope the measly piece of cheese is worth it.