Part 4

Part 3


Cathy saw a shadow approaching out of the corner of her eye and she stepped back further into the shadowy corner, managing to keep hold of the gun she had almost let go of in her indecision. She was still shaking, and as the shadow stepped into a room across the hall and closed the door, she fumbled with the gun. Her worst fear was coming true, she was about to be found out for sure… and as the gun hit her thumb, the cocked trigger let loose it’s payload, flying not in the direction of poor Shayna, but instead toward the coffee counter in the opposite direction, breaking one of the pots in the process.

A loud commotion ensued, with what appeared to be a stack of cases of sodas falling over on it’s own propulsion and cans of soup rolling into the viewable part of the aisle. They could hear someone grunting in the aisle a mere thirty feet away. Soon, there would be more people coming in and she’d be done for.

Cathy was shocked, knowing there was a slim chance she’d get out of here without the police finding her, fear of losing her son altogether, she stuffed the weapon into her overcoat and brought her hands to her face and held her breath, helpless and lost, but not finished. No, not finished at all. She was also angry. At herself. At her son, who was the one who ran off in the first place, and at Roller… at this tiny woman in front of her who distracted her, and at the fact that she really had no idea what to do next. She wanted a cigarette. And something stronger- the fifth of tequila she had early this morning to take the chill off was making her head ache and her mouth dry. This was the worst Monday morning she’d ever had.

Looking quickly, she found a pack of cigarettes on the desk near Shayna, and she reached for it. It was a soft pack of non-filters. Perfect. If she was busted she might as well. She took off her gloves off and stared at the woman across from her as she searched in her pockets for a pack of matches. Neither of them seemed ready to accept the turn in events. Finding a packet almost totally used up but dry, she shook as she lit her cigarette, staring, trying to kick her brain into gear. She inhaled, feeling the choking sensation as it burned deep in her lungs. So good. Now she felt more alert, she could think.

“Open the safe” Her voice was raw, low and hoarse. There was still a chance she could get out of here, it was only a moment gone bad. Things were salvageable. The man in the restroom was running the water, didn’t seem to think things were out of place. The front guy… where was he? How come those cans of soup were still there and why didn’t she hear the register open anymore? Oh, God. Oh, God oh God oh God, please, let him be outside. In the rain, okay maybe not. Oh, God…


Part 5


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