The last thing I need is to go home. I don’t want to be anywhere near Alyssa. It was my conversation with her that sent this day spiraling into one disaster after another. Now I don’t know where we stand and that has me bothered.
“No. I’ll be okay. We’ve got work to do.”
His eyes widen as if to sayYeah, right.
I take a seat at my desk with Eric right across from me, pulling up a file to look over my notes. I make a mental list of all the people and places we still need to speak to. Shirley comes to mind, and I wonder for a moment why.
Maybe I should ask her for the tapes leading up to Jenna’s disappearance. She has to have the others I requested ready to go by now.
I grab a pen, preparing to write down all the questions I have for her pertaining to Jenna. I’m writing out my list when some unseen force pushes my hand across the paper, the ball of the pen scraping against the wood and creating a screech that hurts my ears.
Eric jumps back, mouth hanging open, eyes darting left to right. I have absolutely no justification for what just occurred. Not only am I losing my grip on reality, but now I’m losing control of my motor ability.
“I think I’m just gonna go,” I say, thrusting my thumb over my shoulder.
Malone’s head bobs animatedly up and down. “I think that’s best.” He glances to the fender. “What do you want me to do with that?”
Taking a deep breath, I say something completely against my better judgment. “Have forensics see what they can make of the paint transfer.”
Like the reliable partner he is, Eric doesn’t even question my ask. “On it,” he says, grabbing the plastic and heading out.
Within five minutes, I’m in my car heading home, trying to make sense of all the strangeness from today. I contemplate calling a doctor, afraid this is the start of a serious medical condition. My balance is off, my whole body is tingling... something must be wrong.
I pull up Jackie’s number, trying to decide whether to tell herwhat’s going on but decide better of it. She has her hands full with Zoey, and I don’t want her to panic. Which she would.
I’ve just placed my phone in the cup holder when my wheel jerks left, narrowly missing an oncoming vehicle before screeching to a halt at the entrance of Clementine’s.
My chest heaves with each ragged intake of breath, while my heart practically pounds out of my chest.
What the fuck is happening?
I no more than think it, and my horn begins to blare, right along with my radio. I grab my hair at the roots and pull, losing the last grip on my sanity. The car door flies open, and my feet are moving without conscious thought, carrying me toward the building. I attempt to dig in my heels and stop this madness, but my entire body is stiff and tingling.
A bright light shines in my peripheral vision, and I turn to see that it’s illuminating a red truck.
Charlie Dunbar’s truck.
“What voodoo is this?”
I have no way to explain these bizarre occurrences, other than it’s something beyond this world.
What are the chances that Alyssa would accuse Charlie Dunbar of vehicular homicide, I’d rebuff her claims, and my possessed car would force me here? The very place he’s likely been since it opened this morning.
I might find that I’ve gone and truly lost my mind, but I’m here, so I might as well see where this day takes me. What more do I have to lose at this point?
As soon as I enter the dingy building, my eyes land on Amanda. Based on the way she’s staring at me, she thinks I’m here to relapse. Her lips are turned down into a frown, and the disappointment aimed at me stings, even if it’s misguided.
“Nick?” she says it like a question, but I’m not paying any attention to her.
I’m focused on the man hunched over the bar, sipping something stronger than his usual beer. Instinct tells me not to approach Charlie without more to go on.
“Is Shirley here?”
Her shoulders relax and she yanks on her yellow shirt, offering a tight-lipped smile. “Yeah, she’s in the office. She won’t mind if you head on back.”
I nod before making my way toward Shirley’s office. The door is open when I get there, and she spins around in her chair when she hears me approach.
“Nicky. Glad you’re here.” She doesn’t smile, turning back toward her computer monitor that’s currently playing the recordings from the bar camera. “Do you have any update on what happened to Jenna?” Her voice wavers, thick with emotion.
