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“Fine. It better not. I will literally kick your ass, man.”
“I’d like to see you try. Anyway, can you swing by my place and check and see if she’s up. Her store opens soon. I figured she’d be up and getting ready by now.”
“Alright. I’ll call you back.”
“Good. Thank you.” I hang up the phone wishing that I felt better about the state of things. But I don’t. I’ve got that skittering, itchy feeling between my shoulder blades that I get whenever it feels like something’s gone off the rails.
Ten minutes later he calls back and without preamble says, “I think she left. Her car isn’t there. Nobody answered the door.”
Now that itchy feeling is getting stronger. “Her car wasn’t there. She would have had to call for a ride.”
“Not necessarily. It’s a nice morning. She might have walked. She likes to do that when it’s nice out.”
“She better not have. After all that shit last night? I’ll beat her ass,” I grumble under my breath.
Jeremiah draws in a sharp breath. “Dude, I’m gonna forget you said that, at least for now. But we’re gonna have a long talk when this gets worked out.”
“Fine. Whatever. I’m going to head to her store and see if she’’s there. I wonder why she isn’t picking up her phone?”
Jeremiah says nothing but he says, “I’m gonna come to the store too. You might need some help.” I rummage in my pockets looking for my keys, swearing when my hands shake when I take them out of my pants.
Neither of us says what we’re starting to think. Neither of us wants to admit that it feels like there’s a bigger problem at work here.
I grab my keys, hanging up the phone, dialing Ruth’s number again. Nothing. Straight to voicemail now, like her phone’s shut off.
It takes me less than three minutes to get to her antiques store. I run to the door, attempting to open it. It doesn’t budge. I put my hand to my forehead attempting to peer through the glass, yet seeing nothing.
But I smell something that makes my belly clench. And when I look closer I can see a flicker of bright orange in the back room. A flicker that shouldn’t be there.
Jeremiah pulls up and I run to him, screaming, “I smell smoke and the door’s fucking locked! I think we’re going to need to break it down.”
“I’ve got keys. Let’s go,” he hollers, his face paling when we both start seeing smoke curling from the back of the building.
