Free Number of the Beast (Paladin Cycle, Book One) by Lita Stone

nearby counter: 5:15 AM . “What’s the
deal?”
    “ Pack your things, Baker.
You’re outta here.”
    “ What about the piss
test?”
    Lawdry opened his mouth but hesitated.
He glanced around the room and lifted his gaze toward the second
floor. “Anybody else awake?”
    Shane shook his head.
    Steve Lawry said, “Rig’s shutting
down. There’s been a situation. Kevin Deeks was found dead on the
platform this morning. Asphyxiated on his own vomit.”
    Shane leaned against the wall, hands
on his thighs and blew out a breath. “Shit.”
    “ Deep shit is more like
it,” Lawdry said. “OSHA is capping us off ‘til an official
investigation can be completed. An autopsy is scheduled to test for
blood alcohol levels. We’ll contact you when you should report
back—that is if we’re even authorized to reopen
operations.”
    “ I understand.”
    “ I can tell a straight
shooter when I see one,” Lawdry said. “Did you know anything about
Kevin drinking on the site, Baker?”
    Shane’s face tightened. “No,
sir.”
    Lawdry nodded. The supervisor glanced
at the second floor again. “Let the rest of the guys know for me,
will ya?”
    “ Yeah,” Shane
said.
    “ You and your buddy Birch
need bus tickets home?”
    “ We’ll just drive the
Jalopy back to Buckeye this time.”
    “ Buckeye, huh? I took my
nephew there a couple years back to do some hunting. Some coonass
at a bait shop tried to sell us silver bullets and a wooden cross.
We decided to get our bait and beer at K-mart.” Steve shook his
head. “Didn’t see a damn thing the whole time we were out
there.”
    Fucking Abe.
    Lawdry left and Shane went upstairs.
When he sat on the edge of Birch’s mattress, the sleeping beauty
stirred and frowned.
    “ We’re going home,” Shane
said.
    Birch raised up, and rubbed his eyes.
“So much for taking a piss test and everything being
hunky-fucking-dory, huh?”
    “ Not my fault this time.
But I wish it were.”
    # # #
    Trying to ignore the pounding behind
her eyes, the grand-mama of all migraines, Amy pushed through the
double doors of Roxy’s Bus Stop Depot.
    The diner opened at five every morning
and Amy was hardly ever late for her shift. But the digital clock
by the old grill read 5:34. God, the smell of bacon grease and
fried eggs made her want to puke all over the wood
floors.
    She poured herself a Diet Coke and
glanced around for Carmen. Her car was not in the lot but she
could’ve hitched a ride with Derrick. Unless she was still behind
bars?
    Amy sipped her coke while sitting at
the counter, a long beige breakfast bar with rounded edges and
chipped borders. Roxy eyed her from the grill where the nauseating
bacon and egg fumes originated.
    “ Don’t just sit there like
a bump on a log.” Roxy waved a metal spatula. “Need some breakfast
to help get the lead out?”
    Amy gagged. “No ma’am.” She slipped
the vial from the pocket of her apron and sipped from
it.
    Sheriff Bowden held open the door.
Carmen stalked into the diner.
    Still dressed in her Betty Boop
costume from last night, mascara smudged, hair a mess, she walked
past the Sheriff without making eye contact. Her uniform balled in
her hands, Carmen strode to the bathroom. Silent all the
way.
    The sheriff set his black drab hat on
the counter and took a seat on a stool.
    After tying her apron, Amy poured a
mug of coffee for the good sheriff. “You didn’t make Carmen spend
the night in jail, did you?”
    The sheriff narrowed his eyes then
tipped the mug to his cracked lips. All the answer she’d get from
him ‘til he finished his coffee.
    Female, hear
me.
    Not
again. Amy ignored the arrogant voice. The
voice isn’t real. She repeated the mantra
silently as she wiped down the stainless steel around the coffee
station.
    From the corner of her eye, she
spotted her mother entering the diner.
    Amy groaned. What a day for her to
visit. Somehow she had to keep her struggle with her sanity a
secret. That woman wouldn’t hesitate to have