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I won’t leave you, Hershel. I can’t. It’s your fault I’m still here, because you’re killing people in my name.
“I’ll have a Pepsi,” Hershel said, and then rolled his eyes when the waitress went to fill the order. Louise was dead and still running his life.
He took his Pepsi and sat down at a nearby table to wait for his food. As he did, he noticed that the people at the table next to him were from one of the news crews. He sat back, sipping his drink and honed in on their conversation.
“What do you think about the Feeb’s excuse?” one man said.
“You mean about the witness not seeing anything?”
“Yeah, that.”
“I don’t know. It’s possible. I mean, the hospital verified that she came in unconscious, with a fever.”
“Yeah, but they also said they heard her mumbling something about a shooter.”
“It could be that she’d heard about the murders and was just afraid it would happen to her, but since she was out of her head sick, that’s how it came out. We don’t work for a tabloid, and I’m not into spreading lies for the sake of a half-assed scoop.”
That made Hershel feel even better, and he kept drinking his pop with one eye on the kitchen, waiting for his order to come up. He wanted to go home and kick back, watch a little TV as he ate, but his neighbors at the next table were still arguing the point.
“Look, he and the woman they pulled out of that tree, the one who must be the witness, what’s her name…? Landry. Nola Landry. They used to be an item. What if he spun that story to protect her? What if he lied?”
“He’s a federal agent.”
The guy laughed. “I repeat…what if he lied?”
Hershel choked on his pop and it came out through his nose.
“Son of a bitch,” he muttered, as he grabbed a handful of napkins and cleaned himself off.
The waitress came back to the counter carrying a brown paper bag.
“Here you go, honey. Your order is ready.”
Hershel whipped out a twenty-dollar bill.
“Keep the change,” he said as he grabbed the bag and headed for the door.
Hershel! You didn’t wait for your change. Why did you tip her that much? What were you thinking?
He slid into his truck seat, slammed the door and started the engine.
“Louise, I need you to stop talking now. My head hurts. I’m tired, and I’m hungry. Go away.”
You’re going to be sorry one of these days that you didn’t listen to me. Mark my words. You’re going to be sorry.
“I already am!” he shouted. “Now shut the fuck up. I mean it.”
He drove the rest of the way home in blessed silence, ate his food without tasting it and showered before crawling into bed. He set the alarm to make sure he didn’t oversleep and miss his night shift, and was out within minutes.
* * *
Cameron and Wade showed up just before 5:00 p.m. with fresh bandages and antiseptic for Nola’s wrists, and a bag of burgers and fries from Eats. They spotted Tate and Nola sitting on a cot, talking.
“Honey, we’re home!” Wade said as he set the bags on the upturned cardboard box and began digging out the food.
The kitchen had just started serving the evening meal, and most of the people in the gym were either standing in line to get their food or sitting outside at the dining tables, already eating.
“Smells good,” Nola said.
