Chapter 11 - The Waitress Uniform In The Photo
My phone buzzed on the kitchen counter just after I locked the apartment door. It was an unknown number. No text, just a photo loading slow over our bad Wi-Fi.
It was me. Behind the counter at the diner, carrying two plates. My black uniform with the white trim, my hair up in the same messy bun. My mouth was open mid-order, calling toward the kitchen. The white coffee cup sat on the table in the foreground, out of focus.
My hands went cold. Lily was asleep on the couch with her backpack still on, and the affidavit papers were still spread across the table where I'd left them, unsigned.
I checked the timestamp. 8:42 p.m. Tonight. During my shift, while I had stepped into the back to call him.
He picked up on the first ring. "Emma?"
"Someone sent me a picture," I said. I couldn't keep my voice steady. "Of me at work. Tonight."
Silence. Then fabric moving, a car door. "Forward it to me. Now. Don't delete it."
I sent it, my thumb shaking so bad I almost dropped the phone. I stood in our tiny kitchen and listened to him breathe while he looked.
"That's taken from the corner booth," he said. "By the window. Facing the counter."
"I know where it's taken from," I said. "Who sent it?"
"The number's blocked on my end too. It's a relay." His voice was low, controlled in a way that scared me more than if he'd yelled. "Are your doors locked?"
"Yes."
"Stay away from the windows. I'm ten minutes out."
He hung up before I could argue. I pulled the curtain over the kitchen window and sat on the floor next to Lily, my back against the cabinet. I kept looking at the photo. Whoever took it had waited. Had watched me work.
When he knocked, three short raps, I almost didn't get up. I let him in and he stepped inside fast, suit jacket damp from the parking lot mist. His tie was loose. He looked at Lily sleeping, then at the affidavit, then at me.
"Show me your call log," he said.
I held out the phone. He photographed the screen with his own phone, his silver watch catching the overhead light. "No message. Just proof they can reach you. This is how they work."
"You said names would protect us," I said. "You said if I signed—"
"I know what I said." He cut himself off, ran a hand through his dark wavy hair. "This is my fault."
I stared at him. "What?"
He sat down hard at the table, elbows on his knees. The calm was gone. "I came to the diner to find you. I asked the hostess. I said your name out loud. I sat there and stared at you for an hour. Anyone watching the place would have seen that."
My stomach dropped. "You think someone followed you?"
"I think I walked in there with a suit and a watch and asked for Emma by name," he said. "I might as well have put a light on you."
My other phone, the diner work phone I shared with the other girls, buzzed in my apron pocket. I still had the uniform on. I hadn't even changed. It was Marcy, the day-shift girl.
I put her on speaker because my hands wouldn't hold the phone to my ear.
"Em? You there? Sorry to call late," Marcy said. Her TV was loud in the background. "Some guy came in tonight asking about you. Said he was like, your cousin? Wanted to know when you work next."
My eyes met his. He went perfectly still.
"What did you tell him?" I asked.
"I told him you work most nights, you know? I didn't think— He left a twenty for a coffee he didn't drink. He was sitting in the back corner. Hoodie up. I only remember because he asked if you always wear your hair like that."
The photo on my counter stared up at us. Me in my uniform. Hair up.
"Marcy," I said carefully, "did he ask for me by name?"
"Yeah. Asked for Emma. I said you were in back. He left right after you came back out. Em, is everything okay?"
I forced a breath. "Yeah. Thanks for telling me."
I hung up. The kitchen was too quiet. Lily shifted on the couch, murmuring in her sleep.
He stood up and walked to the sink, gripping the edge with both hands. His left wrist, the watch, pressed hard against the porcelain.
"He wasn't asking for your schedule to say hi," he said quietly. "He was confirming you. Because I confirmed you first."
I looked down at my uniform, the white trim along the sleeves. In the photo it was bright under the diner lights, easy to spot from across the room. Easy to follow.
May you like
For three weeks I'd been terrified someone would remember what I did on the highway. Now I realized the danger hadn't come from that night.
It had come from last week, when a man in a black suit walked into my diner and said my name loud enough for anyone to hear.
