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I needed to talk to Malcolm, but he still hadn’t shown up and Misti was nowhere to be found. I headed to the bathroom and used the facilities. After I washed my hands, I tried calling Malcolm again. No answer.
Was he hanging out in the back? It was worth a shot.
I headed to a door I presumed opened to the kitchen. The knob didn’t turn, so I pounded on the door until a fresh-faced kid with red hair and freckles answered looking pissed.
“This isn’t the bathroom. It’s over there.” He pointed to the door a few feet down the hall.
“I’m not looking for the bathroom. I’m looking for Malcolm.”
“He’s not here.”
“He’s supposed to meet me here, but he’s not out front,” I said, getting frustrated. “Which is why I’m at this door. I need you to get him for me.”
He rolled his eyes. “If I got Mr. Malcolm for every drunk woman who pounded on this door askin’ about him, I’d be the bouncer, not the fry cook.” He waved in a shooing motion. “Go on. Get out of here.”
He started to shut the door, but I put my foot in the crack. “If you know what’s good for you, then you’ll get him. Now.”
Surprise filled his eyes, then anger. “That’s it. You’re out of here.” Then, to my surprise, he pulled me into a short hallway toward a door in the back.
A metal exit door.
“I told you I need to talk to Malcolm!” I protested.
“And I told you it ain’t happenin’, lady. He don’t sleep with the customers, and we have permission to kick out the ones who won’t take no for an answer.”
“I don’t want to sleep with him! Gross!” I dug in my heels, trying to keep him from moving me toward the door, but my coordination was off, and he was bigger. Before I knew it, the back door was open and I was in the back parking lot.
Fuck me.
I almost pounded on the door again but considering that was what had gotten me into this situation, I doubted it would do any good.
I really shouldn’t be out here alone with a kidnapper/murderer who was stalking me, but I’d take that up with Malcolm later. Right now, I needed to get the hell out of here, blood alcohol level be damned.
But when I got to my car, I realized my purse and coat were still inside…yet the driver’s door was unlocked, and an envelope sat in the driver’s seat with my name written on it in marker.
Shit.
I glanced around the lot, looking to see if anyone was watching me, then opened the door. Without getting in the car, I picked up the envelope and pulled out the handwritten note.
If you want Ava, meet me at the old Peterman Manufacturing warehouse. Alone.
Oh, God. The stalker must have followed me here.
I closed my eyes and my body swayed. I was in no condition to be saving anyone, let alone a child. But I also couldn’t not go. Nevertheless, I wasn’t going anywhere without my keys.
I walked up to the front door and started to walk in, but a big burly guy with a bald head blocked my entrance. “Petey said you’d be trying to come back in.”
“Well, Petey can go fuck himself,” I said bluntly. “And unless you give me my purse and coat, I’ll be filing theft charges.”
“No need for that,” he said with a smirk, then reached behind the door and held up my things.
“Does Misti know you’re kicking me out?” I demanded, trying to see past him to the bar.
“Misti don’t give a shit about you,” he said with a laugh, then tossed my things at me and shut the door. I grabbed the coat, but my phone fell out of my hand as I reached for the purse and missed. Both fell to the ground, and when I picked up my phone, the screen was white and cracked with lots of horizontal lines.
Dammit! I couldn’t afford a new phone, not to mention I needed one immediately.
Okay. Deep breaths. Get your shit together.
