I took a ten-minute break and ate my way through a supersize Oh Henry! and a box of Junior Mints then returned to do clean up. After the second wave of shows started things got pretty slow behind the concession stand so we began to close the station down. The two pimple-faced teenagers working with me talked excitedly about their plans to attend a party later. It was downright embarrassing that I had nothing to do. I decided that my chocolate binge would need the assistance of a few beers to make me feel better. Yeah, a few beers and maybe a pack of Virginia Slims. When I quit smoking last month I’d not counted on being pummeled by all these new obstacles in my life. Bad dreams. Detective interrogations. A chance I may get a promotion and work with Clay. I needed nicotine to calm my frazzled nerves.
The second wave of moviegoers were spilling into the parking lot as I returned to the staff room to change out of my yellow uniform shirt. I slipped into my Seahawks jersey and shrugged into my Gore-Tex jacket. It was raining when I stepped outside, which matched my mood perfectly. Actually, it wasn’t official rain. Seattleites had many names for the various forms of wet drops that fell and this was a mizzle—a mist increasing to a drizzle. Regardless, it was wet, it was cold and I had to walk home in it.
Most of the second-wavers were darting to their cars and I envied them. I wanted my car. I needed my car. When you had a car you had freedom. I cut diagonally between the parked vehicles but paused midway across as I found myself looking at the abandoned building where Lara and I had discovered the bloody Dumpster. I stopped and stared at it. I was not going near there. Nope. I wasn’t. Really.
“You’re not going over there,” Clay’s voice commanded from behind me.
I turned sharply with surprise. “Of course I’m not!” I said defensively.
He opened the passenger door to a sporty yellow Miata soft-top and the modelesque blonde slipped into the passenger seat, eyeing me dismissively.
“Because you sure looked like you were thinking of going over there and if that is what you’re thinking, I have to advise you against it.”
I felt a dribble of rain dangling from the tip of my nose and swiped it away with my hand. “I was not thinking of going there. I was just wondering if the cops had checked inside the building.”
Clay narrowed his eyes and folded his arms across his chest. When he narrowed his eyes they crinkled in the corners, making him look a little older than his midthirties. I wasn’t used to having his undivided attention. I didn’t sigh, even though I wanted to.
“I’m sure that the police have thoroughly checked the entire area and I am just as sure they would not want you checking to see if they checked.”
“Clay, I’m cooold,” whined Modelesque Girl.
“I’ll be just a second, Candy,” Clay replied, and pushed her door shut.
Her name was Candy. Perfect. How could I ever compete with a combination of thinness, blondness and someone whose name was a sweet confection?
“So you’re going straight home then, right?” he asked.
Suddenly I was annoyed. Just because I moonlighted at a movie theater did not mean I didn’t have a life! Okay, well it did mean that but he didn’t need to know it!
“It so happens that I have a date,” I lied.
The corners of his lips twitched. “It’s almost midnight. You should’ve had your date pick you up.”
I jammed my hands into my pockets. “Todd’s meeting me at my place. I live only a couple blocks away and I like to walk.”
Todd was the name of my first boyfriend. I don’t know why his name sprung to my lips but I figured having a name for my fake boyfriend lent some credibility to my lie.
Candy tapped her window impatiently with a long manicured nail.
“Cool it,” Clay said to the window.
Yeah, cool it, Candy, Clay and I are having a conversation here, I thought.
“Okay.” He chucked a finger under my chin. “Just be careful, huh?”
The underneath part of my chin tingled where he touched it. I turned and strode purposely across the parking lot. After a few steps I could hear his car roar to life and that’s when I let out the breath I’d been holding. The chuck under my chin was not exactly the lip-crushing kiss of my fantasies but it had definitely thrown me off guard.
When I reached the edge of the lot I hesitated. I should turn right onto 156th Avenue and continue my walk. I could stop at the corner store and pick up that pack of Virginia Slims. The ciggies combined with the six-pack of Rainier beer that was waiting in my fridge would take me well on my way to having my own little pity party inside of half an hour. Or I could do all of those things after I checked out the building across the street.
It’s not like I have a death wish. I’m just a curious kind of person and my inquisitiveness was now centered on that dilapidated building. All I wanted was a peek inside. I wasn’t going to go near the Dumpster. No way. I just wanted to know if the inside of this building was what I’d seen in my dream.
I crossed the street. Instead of that eerie feeling I’d felt the other day about the building, there was only a general uneasiness, but it wasn’t thundering inside me. It was just sort of…there, hovering in the background…like when you eat hot wings and you know the heartburn’ll follow, but I could handle that. I mean if the place was really dangerous I’d have that deep sense of foreboding snaking through my veins, right?
Trusting my instincts in this weird kind of way, I scurried toward the building and dipped into the shadows. The front door was padlocked and boarded; the windows along the front and side were also secured with plywood. I inched around to the back, to where one of the boards had fallen away. Standing on tiptoe, I pressed my face close to the window. It was black as ink inside. Damn.
Just then, the clouds opened and it started raining hard. There was a slight overhang covering the back entrance and I scooted out of the wet. Of course the door was also crisscrossed in canary-yellow crime-scene tape, but all I wanted was to wait until the rain tapered back to a sprinkle then I’d head home. It was a shame I hadn’t gotten a better look. Too bad I didn’t have a flashlight. Wait a second! I didn’t have a flashlight but I still carried a Bic lighter. I rummaged through my purse. Lucky for me I hadn’t changed purses since I’d quit smoking. I dug around the bottom of my bag until my fingers clamped onto the smooth familiar feel of the Bic. I lifted it out triumphantly and stumbled backward hitting the door with my shoulder. The tape tore away and the door sprang wide open. Holy shit!
I recovered from my stumble and stared into the dark cavernous building. Swallowing my fear, I fumbled with the lighter until I was able to flick it ablaze. I stuck my arm straight out and the tall flame illuminated the way as I walked inside.
The flame flickered as I walked farther and farther. The back door opened into a hall and after a few steps to my left it turned into one big room. It had the appearance of an old convenience store. On the far wall, shelves were still mounted from floor to almost the ceiling. The lighter was heating up so I let it go out. Using the wall to guide me, I inched along. Suddenly, my foot plunged into a hole. I flicked my Bic and saw that my foot was lodged into a heating vent with a missing cover grate. I had to tug my foot out, leaving my shoe behind, balance on one foot and then do some wriggling to get my shoe free from the crevice. After that, my eyes adjusted quickly to the dim
