“Hi. What can I get you?”
Perhaps it was the seriousness in his dark eyes or the forced lightness of his voice, but something about the stranger set her on edge. “What’s your secret?” he asked.
She tensed. “What secret?”
He pointed to the ancient backlit sign suspended from the ceiling, boasting that Luigi’s was Frostburg’s Best Kept Secret. “What makes your pizza so much better than the stuff they pedal at the national chains?”
Alice shrugged and adjusted the glasses slipping down her nose. “Family recipe.”
He grinned, baring a set of gleaming teeth beneath his stubble. “I’ll have a medium pizza with pepperoni and sausage, please.”
“Would you like that to go?”
“Yes.”
Alice rang the order in the register, and he paid his bill in cash.
“Hey, Alice! Hold the register,” Megan called, rushing to her side. “Can you get me change for a twenty?”
Alice counted out the correct bills and handed them to Megan. “Here you go.”
A family of four, with two young kids that kept blowing spit wads at each other and their tired looking parents, paid their bill while Megan boxed up their leftovers.
While he waited, the man examined the small restaurant, from the dropped ceiling to the black and white floor tiles. He remained near the counter the entire ten-minute wait but didn’t try to make conversation again. Will rang the bell for the order, and Alice collected the box and handed it to the man.
“Thank you, Alice.” He opened the lid and gave the meal an appreciative once-over. “This looks delicious.”
“You’re welcome.” She felt unexplainable relief when he turned toward the door.
As he reached for the knob, he twisted and smiled. “If this is good, I’ll have to come back.”
Alice gave him an awkward thumbs up.
“That guy gave me the creeps,” Megan said, tucking the black cheque book beneath the counter.
“Tell me about it.” Alice adjusted the ties on her sagging apron as the last of the customers paid.
“I’m running to the back for some more straws and napkins. Do you mind doing the salt and pepper?” Megan asked over her shoulder.
“No problem.” Vivienne collected the shakers from the tables on a tray and brought them into the kitchen. She had finished filling and replacing them before she realized Megan had never returned.
“Hey, Will? Is Megan with you?” she asked through the screen door used for deliveries.
Will took a drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke at the stars. “Haven’t seen her.”
“Hey, Megan?” Alice called, walking into the back room. “Did you get lost in—?”
Megan’s shoes stuck out from behind the rack of straws. Alice raced to find her collapsed on the floor. “Megan! Are you okay?” She dropped to her knees and checked the girl’s pulse.
Breathing. She was still breathing.
Vivienne fumbled for her phone in her purse. “Pick up, Ethan…pick up,” she whispered. The call rang out. Stupid voicemail . . . “I need you back at Luigi’s ASAP. It’s happening.”
Her eyes fell closed, and she took a deep, steadying breath. “You can do this, Vivienne.” The injector pen was in her purse, stuffed under a pile of receipts and gum wrappers. After removing the cap and exposing the needle, she bent to Megan’s ear. “If you can hear me, you’re going to feel a pinch in your arm.”
She inhaled another deep breath, rolled up Megan’s sleeve, and jabbed the needle into her shoulder.
Megan groaned when the medicine was injected. “Alice? What’re you doing?”
“You’re going to be fine. Ethan is on his way in so he can bring you home.”
“Who’s Ethan?” Megan whispered before passing out again.
Vivienne’s phone rang. “Where have you been?”
“I close my eyes for fifteen minutes and all hell breaks loose.” Ethan cursed. “And now I’ve stubbed my damn toe.”
Megan groaned, and Vivienne placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Megan’s unconscious.”
“Shit. You still at Luigi’s?”
She threw the injector pen into the trash can along with the receipts and wrappers. “Yeah. She’s passed out in the back room.”
The sound of an engine starting roared in the background. “Did you inject her yet?”
“Just did.” Vivienne found TINK in the secret pocket of her purse next to a tampon. She tucked the earpiece in place and fluffed her hair to cover the device. The bell from the front door jingled.
“Alice!” Will called from the kitchen. “Someone just walked in.”
“Crap. I’ll be right back.”
“Vivienne, wait!”
She left her phone on the desk and mumbled a curse toward the clock on the wall. Couldn’t these people read the time?
A man, probably in his late forties, stood by the door deliberating over the choices on the menu. He was one of the biggest men she had ever seen—at least six and a half feet tall.
Vivienne startled when she saw him but smiled. “I’m sorry, sir. We’re closed for the evening.”
“No problem. I didn’t realize you closed at nine.” He gave a curt nod before going back outside.
“Maybe you should have read the sign on the door,” she muttered on her way back to the storage area. “Sorry about that, Ethan.” Megan was still passed out on the floor, but some of the color had returned to her face. “A stupid customer came in two minutes before closing expecting—”
“Vivienne, listen to me. You need to get out of there right now.”
“I can’t leave Megan here.”
“There’s no time to explain, just get back to Kensington. Extraction is on their way and—”
“Extraction? Why are—” The door’s bell rang again, and Vivienne could hear Will cursing from the smoking area outside. “I’ll call you right back.” She ended the call, tucked her phone into her purse, and rushed to the front.
“My friend tells me you’re closed already,” a man called from the entrance. “Is everything all right?”
“We always close at nine,” she said, rounding the corner and loosening the strings on her apron. “Come back tomorrow if you want—”
“I don’t want pizza.” The creepy guy who had ordered takeaway earlier lingered by the door. “I’m here for you, Vivienne.”
Her apron slid to the floor. “Who’s Vivienne?”
The man pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket and took his time unfolding it. Not good . . . It was a photocopy of her high school yearbook picture. “I really like what you’ve done with your hair.”
He knew. But how? What was she supposed to do? Vivienne collected her apron and moved closer to the counter.
“You’re a hard woman to find, Miss Dunn,” he went on. “When we spoke on the phone, I thought perhaps you’d see reason and turn yourself in.”
Phone? What was he talking—“When did I talk to you?”
“I apologize, we haven’t been formally introduced. My name is Lawrence.” His lips twisted into a sneer.