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— External Point of View
The Shade Diner smelled of coffee left on the heat too long and burnt sugar.
Sam was in the back, in the kitchen, taking inventory of the new stock as he usually did, when he recognized the sound of footsteps before he even heard the key in the lock.
The man made his way toward the office of his boss, William Harper, who had seemed to be absent for the past few days.
When he arrived, he immediately recognized Will's silhouette in the process of closing the office door.
— Finally, you're back.
Will stopped instantly at the sound of the young man's voice.
He gave his faint, warm smile before answering.
— Yes, he said, turning his head toward Sam.
— I'm back.
Sam walked toward him, but something about Will was off — he couldn't have said what exactly, but Will seemed in a hurry to be done with things, which was unlike him, usually so warm with everyone.
— May I? (Sam asked, a cloth draped over his neck)
A brief nod, but enough to invite him in.
— You missed quite a bit, he said, stepping inside.
Will hadn't turned on the light.
That was the first thing Sam noticed.
He knew Will well enough to know that wasn't like him. Even on his worst days, even when the diner was closed and the chairs were still up on the tables, there was always that light in his office. As if darkness bothered him.
Now he was rummaging in the dark.
His hands moved through the drawers with a precision that contrasted with his apparent calm. Too fast. Too methodical.
— Are you alright?
Sam finally let out.
— Yes, I'm fine, he said, still searching.
— Are you sure? he pressed.
— Yes.
Sam knew that tone.
He kept going anyway.
— The police came by.
Will's hands didn't stop.
— What for?
— For Avery.
There.
A beat too long between the drawer he was closing and the one he was opening.
Barely noticeable.
But Sam had seen it.
— Why? Will asked.
— They found a body at her place.
Will went still.
Not all at once. Gradually. Like someone deciding to stop rather than someone stopped by surprise.
He didn't turn around.
— Who?
— Kevin, a friend of Jackson's — and it was Jackson who found him.
A silence.
Will resumed his search.
Slower this time. As if his hands needed something to do while his brain worked elsewhere.
— Avery came by yesterday, Sam said.
He hesitated, searching for his words.
— She looked rough. Not just tired. The kind of look you get when your body has decided to give out before you have.
Will didn't answer.
His hands kept searching. More slowly now.
— She didn't know about the body. Or at least she was acting like she didn't. But when I told her…
Sam paused for a second.
— It wasn't a normal reaction for someone hearing bad news. She went white. Completely. I thought she was going to drop right there in front of me.
— And after?
Two words. Measured. Too calm.
— She ran off.
A silence.
— I tried to stop her. She didn't listen.
Will closed a drawer.
Opened another.
— Do you know where she went?
Sam frowned slightly.
— I assume she went back home. That's what I told Claire, anyway.
Will stopped.
— You called Claire?
— Yes. She asked me to let her know if Avery came by again. So…
He shrugged.
— I did what she asked.
Will said nothing for a few seconds.
His fingers brushed the bottom of the last drawer.
Sam watched him without appearing to.
There was something in the way Will absorbed this information. No surprise. No real reaction. Just these questions asked at the right moment, in the right order. Like someone checking boxes rather than someone finding things out.
— And Jackson? said Will.
Sam looked up slightly.
— How do you know Jackson was involved?
A silence.
Brief.
— You just told me he was the one who found the body.
Sam thought about it for a second.
True. He had said that.
— Yeah…
He ran a hand through his hair.
— He was at the station. The police picked him up on the road after he went back to Avery's place. Potential suspect from what's going around, but I don't buy it.
Sam paused.
— Why would he want to kill his friend — on top of that, at Avery's place, when he's completely head over heels for her.
Will nodded slowly.
Then his fingers closed around something at the bottom of the drawer.
Sam didn't see what.
The movement was too fast, too discreet. The object had disappeared into the front pocket of his jeans before Sam even had time to look away.
Will straightened up.
— Right.
He glanced at his watch.
A calm gesture. Methodical.
— I'm going to have to be away again.
Sam blinked.
— What? You just got here.
— I know.
He made his way around the desk without hurrying.
— How long? Sam asked.
— I don't know yet.
He moved toward the office door.
— You can keep running the diner the way you have been.
— Will.
The man stopped.
Sam searched for his words.
— Avery… she really wasn't well. Not just physically. She was looking around her like she was waiting for something to happen.
He paused.
— You've known her longer than I have. Do you know something about what's going on?
A silence.
Long.
Will turned slightly.
Not completely.
Just enough for Sam to see his profile.
— Some things don't concern you, Sam.
It wasn't said unkindly.
But it wasn't said kindly either.
Sam nodded slowly.
— Alright.
Will crossed the threshold of the office.
Sam followed him down the hallway leading to the main room.
The diner hummed as usual outside. The clatter of cups, muffled conversations, the radio playing something too cheerful for the mood.
Will put his hand on the swinging door that separated the back from the main room.
He was about to push through.
But the door opened before he could.
From the other side.
From the inside.
Will froze.
The person standing in the doorway was not a regular customer.
That was immediately obvious.
In the way she occupied the space.
In the way her eyes went directly to Will.
Not to Sam.
Not to the room.
To Will.
As if she knew exactly who she was looking for.
A slow smile stretched across her lips.
— Well, well…
Her voice was soft.
Too soft.
— It's been a long time, my dear William.
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