In the blistering heat of the Arizona desert, I ride in the back of this asshole's truck. The sun has set once again and these black trash bags I'm under only make the heat worse. I've been back here for at least a few hours and we are still in the desert. With no more than a vague sense of direction we are traveling in, I am a little worried. Where are we going?
This is the worst car ride of my life. The road we're on seems like an endless bump, stretching for miles. The long trip to the unknown has given me time to think about my dream. My sister is definitely trying to give me hints on how to find her. I'm just not sure what those hints mean. She wasn't actually inside the shed in one of the bags, but the two girls with similar features that went missing around the same time Solia did, were. I also know that he moved their bodies to a different location. He didn't bury them in the desert because Happy and I would've seen him do it.
I have a hunch he suspects that he is being watched. Why else would he come back during the evening and nighttime hours to grab the bodies? I also unintentionally left clues as to someone watching his every move. My vomit and the shed being closed when he clearly left it open, gave it away. He was waiting for me at the end of the abandoned buildings the other night, more than likely to silence me for good.
One thing we both have in common is we don't know what the other one looks like. I only know what he looks like from far away. He's tall, white, and broad. I have an inclination from his confident, expeditious movements and simple, yet nice clothing that he is in his 30's. Even though he senses someone's presence, he isn't aware of who I am or even my gender for that matter.
The truck comes to a stop and I lift the bag slightly to get a picture of where we are. There are bright lights and traffic noises. The city. We are no longer in the desert. A horn honks and the truck begins to move again. Is he distracted by something? I pray he didn't see me move back here. My search for answers will be over faster than I can shave my head. Hopefully, we stop somewhere soon. I am having difficulty breathing.
Seconds turn to minutes and minutes turn to several minutes. I don't know how long we've been driving in the city for, but I am about to pass out. I suck in more air slowly and try to relax. "Just a little longer, Tibby. You can do this," I whisper.
With a stroke of good luck, the truck makes another stop. He shuts the engine off and opens his door to step outside. The door slams shut and the sound of footsteps travel away from me. I abruptly crawl out from under the bag, without worrying about being seen. I inhale deeply and crawl out of the truck bed to get a better view. We're at a diner. One of those 50's diners you usually only see in the movies.
I head to the front of the diner to step inside. It's called Lucille Monroe's. Solia would have loved this place. Anything from the 50's was her thing. The clothing, the movies, the actors, you name it, she loved it. I get up the courage to step inside and dash to the bathroom. I know it's risky, but I have to go to the bathroom and I'm not sure how much longer I can hold it. The atmosphere of the diner hits me like a fresh breath of air. The air conditioning feels amazing and the food smells even better. My mouth starts to water instantly. I'm so hungry, I can't take it anymore. I will have to steal something off someone's plate on the way out and save some for Happy.
Right when I walk out of the bathroom, I notice a plate of food left unattended. Biscuits and Gravy, with a side of fries. I make my move and swiftly snag a biscuit and a handful of fries without being seen. The diner is almost vacant, except for him and I. I smirk and run outside before he can even blink. I duck in the bushes and laugh. I had no intention of messing with him at first. Now, the feeling is exhilarating and I aim to fuck with him anyway I can.
I hear him talking to the waitress. "What happened to my plate of food? I was only in the bathroom for a few minutes."
"I'm not sure, sir. I went to ring you up in the back and just came out here myself. Do you want me to get you another?"
"Yes," he says, curtly. I rise out of the bushes and glance inside. His back is turned, spoiling my shot at seeing him up close. His hands are clenching the black and white checkered counter top leaving smeared, sweaty fingerprints. His broad shoulders are rising and falling. He's angry and clearly, from his straight forward demeanor, not a person to be trifled with. I definitely struck a nerve. Good.
The savory tastes of the warm, half a biscuit and some french fries does nothing to satiate my hunger. I want more; however, Happy needs to eat too. The waitress brings him another plate and he sits at the counter to eat. As he's eating, he keeps staring at his waitress every time she walks by. I can tell because his head follows her wherever she goes. I wonder if she senses there is something not right about him. I can only imagine he has the desire to wring her neck. I hope my actions don't cost this girl her life. The waitress is a brunette, not a redhead, though and redheads are definitely his type.
I check the clock on the wall to see the time. It's ten past midnight which means he's been eating for over twenty minutes. Then, he stands abruptly, leaves money at the counter and strolls over to the bathrooms again. Shit! I get low to the ground and crawl into the back of the truck under the bags once more. My heart is pounding in my ears and my stomach is a ball of nerves. The doors to the diner ding, announcing his return. I stop moving for a split second and so does he, or at least I think he stopped because I don't hear gravel shift under his feet. Please, Please, Please, god don't let him find me yet.
"Sir, you forgot your change," the waitress says. Where did she come from? The back? I didn't hear a second ding. Then again, maybe I was too busy focusing on him catching me underneath these bags.
"You keep it," he says in a low, quiet voice.
"Are you sure? It's almost a fifty dollar tip."
"I'll be seeing ya, Danika," he states with confidence.
"Th..th..thanks," She stutters. With hurried footsteps, and a dinging door, she heads back into the diner. He must have given her the creeps. He sounded scary and upset one minute about a certain somebody taking his food and the next minute, he's leaving her an exorbitant amount of tip money. The implications that he would be back didn't go unnoticed by her either.
This time, it only feels as though we've only been on the road for another fifteen minutes before he makes his next pit stop. I sniff the air and smell the all too familiar scent of gasoline. We're at a gas station. I'm guessing, to make the long trip back to the desert. The sounds of the gas pumps are sentimental for me. I miss my car, and my home. I miss my sister more. That's what I keep telling myself. Everything is for her.
Are we going anywhere else, or was he just stopping for food and gas? Although I was able to follow him without being detected, I'm plagued with emotions of defeat. I wanted to get more substantial clues, than just how this guy looks from behind and the weird show he put on for display. Clues, like where he lives or other places where he hides crucial evidence.
The truck starts and circles around. Damn! We're off in the opposite direction, back to where we came from. Back to the shed.