"You need to give your hands a rest from all that typing sometime, or you are going to get carpal...oh," Billie said, looking up. Right at Rowe. "Oh," she added, letting her gaze slide over all of us, putting the pieces together. "I see," she said in a colder tone than you would expect coming from her. "Hey, Rowe," she said, but there was still an edge to her voice. I was glad I wasn't going to be accompanying them to karaoke. I had a feeling it was going to be a tense night when she realized literally everyone had kept this fact from her.
"Billie," Rowe said, nodding, but barely looking her way.
"Well then," Billie said, jaw tight. "Why don't we all get going? The girls and I need to have a little chat," she added, and I was close enough to hear Hope groan. "Ready, Malc?" she asked.
I will say this. It was the first time I ever drove with music on. And I went ahead and cranked it, so Billie couldn't start in on the girls while I was there to hear it.
"Call me," I demanded as they all scrambled out.
"It might be sooner than usual if we can't get her to loosen up about it," Hope said, grimacing before closing the door.
It was just like any other girls night.
Everything was mostly going like it typically went.
Except when I got to the diner, it was strangely empty.
Meaning no cars in the lot save for the ones that belonged to Holly and the cook.
Sure, the lot was empty some nights, but almost never on a Saturday night.
Stomach tensing for reasons I didn't yet understand, I parked and made my way up the front steps. The chime overhead didn't sound cheerful like it typically did. It sounded more like something out of a horror movie.
"Hello?" I called to the strange silence inside. "Anybody here?"
"What do you want?" the cook called, moving into the window.
"A table," I said, waving a hand out.
"Yeah, well, then take one. Don't know where the waitress ran off to. Just pick something and yell out your order."
I took the menu.
I even brought it over to my usual table.
But I couldn't bring myself to sit down.
Something felt off.
Why would Holly just wander off?
And how long had she been gone that it meant that customers had left, judging by the menus sitting on a couple other tables, along with plates and cash from people who got tired of waiting to have their places cleaned and their bill handed to them?
Walking across the restaurant, I went toward the restrooms, checking the men's first, then knocking on the women's. Hearing nothing, I went inside to check there as well.
Nothing.
No one.
But Holly's purse was still wedged in the cabinet under the register.
Heartbeat tripping into overdrive, I went back toward the door, moving outside.
"Holly?" I called, walking over to check her car.
No luck.
"Holly?" I called louder, moving around the side of the building as the dread started to compound.
Nothing about this felt right.
Why would she ever leave the safety of the restaurant?
Especially when the diner itself was surrounded by dense woods. Predators of both the human or animal sort could be hiding there.
"Holly!" I called again, making my way toward the back of the building.
I almost missed her at first, what with being half-hidden behind one of the dumpsters.
"Holly?" I called as my stomach dropped.
I charged forward across the space, noticing her one bare foot, the shoe likely lost under the dumpster itself.
"Holly," I called as I rounded the dumpster.
And there she was.
Her hideous pink uniform and white apron were covered in dirt but even more so than that, blood.
God, there was a lot of blood.
"Holly," I said, dropping down on my knees as my gaze slid to her chest, making sure it was rising and falling as I reached for my phone, calling 911, rattling off the diner name, then hanging up, so I had a hand free to reach out, brushing her bloodstained hair out of her face.
Someone had beaten the shit out of her. One eye was huge and red. The other had a black eye. She had a split lip, scratches on her cheek from the pavement, a swollen jaw, and a nasty egg on the side of her head.
The second my fingers brushed over it, she let out a pained whimper as consciousness came back to her.
"No," she shrieked, trying to push up and away on scraped hands.
"Hey, Holly. It's okay. You're going to be alright," I said, trying to make my big voice sound a little lower, a bit more soothing. "I called the police. They're on their way."
"M...Malcolm?" she asked, blinking the one eye at me that wasn't almost completely swollen shut.
"Yeah, honey," I agreed, reaching out to help her sit up when she winced. "I just got here. What happened?"
"I... I don't know," she said, brows drawing low. "I was taking out the trash." Right. Because her boss was too fucking cheap to hire a busboy, I guess. "And I don't know. I didn't see anyone around, but then, ugh," she whimpered pressing her fingers to her forehead.
"The ambulance will be here any minute," I told her, moving to sit down at her side. "They will give you something for that. Are you nauseated?"
"Am I... what?"
"Nauseated. Usually a sign of a concussion. You have an egg on your head."
"Egg?" she repeated in a small, pained little voice. "There's egg on my head?"
"No, honey, no. It's a phrase. You got a knot. You know, from being hit."
"Oh, right," she said as she started to sniffle.
"Where else do you hurt?" I asked.
"My side. I think I hurt my ribs."
"You didn't hurt anything," I reminded her softly. "Someone hurt your side. Anywhere else?" I asked.
"Knees. I must have fallen on them. Everything. Everywhere," she added on a hitching sound even as I watched the first tear slip down her cheek. But the tears momentarily halted as she made a sharp gasping noise. One of her hands flew down, reaching up the side of her skirt as her whole body tensed.
And I knew what she was thinking.
But not a second later, her shoulders relaxed as she let out a deep breath, likely finding her panties still in place.
"I don't understand why this happened," she added on a whimper, leaning the side of her head into my chest.
"I don't understand either," I said, gently placing a hand on her upper back, trying to be reassuring. I'd never felt less competent as I did right that moment. I wasn't often in the position where I needed to offer anyone comfort. Least of all a woman who'd just gotten the crap kicked out of her for no plausible reason at all. "But we will figure it out. Do you remember anything?"
"I, ah, I don't know. It was a normal night. They're all the same. Different, but the same."
"Did you have money on you?" I asked.
"I, oh, my book," she said, reaching down into her apron, producing the little black faux leather holder that held her dupe pad. "It's all here," she said, opening it with shaking fingers.
Tucking it back away, her hand rose to run her fingers over her swollen eye.
Another sniffle moved through her just a second before a choked sob did.