The scanner beeped as Ana passed yet another can of food over it. She barely looked down at what she was scanning anymore, too tired to care how many cans of corned beef the customer bought. Deacon was to the left of her, bagging the groceries she placed on the table. He talked her ear off about one of his nights in Lexingside, but Ana didn’t care much to pay attention. He acted as if that day in her driveway never happened, like he never said those hurtful words to her. Ana didn’t have the patience for him currently, and so he was left ignored.

“That’ll be thirty-seven dollars and four cents in change, ma’am.” Ana said in a cheery voice, flashing a fake smile to the old lady.

“So I was thinking…” Deacon began, and Ana sighed. “You and me, go to a bar. We don’t even have to go to Lexingside, we can just stay in this town.”

“No.” She handed the receipt to the old woman. “Have a good day.”

“Don’t be so eager to say no, now. It can just be us! And maybe afterwards…”

Their boss approached them, his beer belly almost bulging out of his shirt. “There are boxes piled up near the back door. Can that be taken care of, please?”

“Of course.” Ana quickly responded, not giving Deacon time to respond or volunteer as she walked to the employees only area.

She grabbed the pile of cardboard boxes near the back door and pushed it open. The warm afternoon air hit her as she walked outside, the sound of cicadas a stark contrast to the quiet store.

She smashed the boxes and threw them into the dumpster, one by one. When she was done, she leaned against the dumpster and rubbed her face, trying to wipe away the exhaustion of the day. When she was younger and still dealing with the turmoil of her dad’s death and her memory loss, she would spend these stressful work days smoking near the dumpster during breaks. She worked at a diner when she was eighteen, and would steal smokes from her co-workers. Despite the grief and stress she was dealing with, things seemed simpler back then. Much simpler, and much stress-free with a cigarette between her fingers…

She shook the thoughts away and pushed herself off of the dumpster. She went to turn back to the door, but something to her right caught her eye. She turned to see Judas, standing with his arms crossed and looking at her. A dull hum followed his arrival.

“Working minimum wage at a shitty grocery store. Maybe you aren’t doing any better than us.” He jeered with a smile.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“I’m not speaking to you. Go find someone else to pick on.” She turned away from him and back to the door.

“Woah, woah, wait. Has Beau not told you what happened, yet? Two spells and he hasn’t told you?” Judas voice pitched higher, and Ana turned around to throw a retort until she realized he was right. Beau hadn’t told her anything yet, despite getting an almost exact approximation of his mother’s location. It was just two days ago that they had done the location spell, but Ana hadn’t seen Beau since. It was possible he was too embarrassed to show his face around her.

She shrugged and tucked her hands in her pockets, appearing nonchalant. “So what? Beau thinks she’s being kept somewhere in Canada. I don’t care much about the memories, seeing as I’m in enough trouble with my father as it is. Take him and get out of my hair.”

“Canada—” He bent over laughing, his laugh sounding like a cacophony against the sound of cicadas. “That’s a good one, really.”

Ana grinded her teeth together and looked away. “It’s what we found.”

“You didn’t find squat, and don’t give me shit about not wanting your memories, because the only reason you’ve been putting up with the both of us—”

“I have been putting up with you,” Ana interjected, raising her voice, “Beau hasn’t been throwing taunts and jabs at me the entire time! He has the intelligence to know when to stop bothering me, unlike you.”

He threw a hand into the air. “Good for him! He hasn’t been losing sleep over the thought of your father finding and killing us, but instead he’s been losing sleep over how to tell you how we all got into that basement.”

She narrowed her eyes and glared at him, taking her hands out of her pockets to cross her arms. “If you want me to know so desperately, then why don’t you tell me yourself?”

Judas calmed, a small smile forming on his face as he looked at Ana. “That’s not my job. Besides, I’m sure Beau would be upset I told you before he could.” He started to back away into the alley he must’ve come from. “If you want to know some secrets, maybe you should look a little closer to home.”

“I’ve already asked my father, and he hasn’t been any more help than Beau has.”

Judas shook his head before turning away from her. “Not him, your co-worker. I’m surprised Beau hasn’t said anything, seeing how he is so concerned over your safety. Toodles!”

Deacon? He’s hiding something from me? It would make sense. His persistence on being near her at all times was questionable, not to mention the letters in his glove box he insisted were just boring family letters. Did they mean something more? What did Judas know that I don’t?

She walked back into the store and started searching for Deacon. He wasn’t at the cash register, or the break room. Where could he have possibly gone to?

She found her boss fixing a wet floor sign near the dairy aisle and approached him. “Have you seen Deacon anywhere?”

The old man sighed. “He left early, said he had a family emergency. Family emergency my ass…”

Family emergency. Deacon didn’t have family in this town, and she had never seen or heard any mention of any family. He never called them while she was around, and the only mention he ever made was in his stories she only half-listened to. Had he overheard her conversation with Judas?

As she finished her shift, she began to formulate a plan in her head. She had to find a way to read those letters, even if she had to spend the night with him. She could go to the bar with him like he wanted to, woo him enough so can ask if she could stay the night. If his parents or whoever was sending those letters had been sending them regularly, then she was sure there was more in that trailer of his. She has been there more times than she could count, but she didn’t remember any fancy envelopes sitting anywhere.

As she walked to her truck she texted Deacon a message. Silverhorn Bar. 7 pm. Don’t be late or I’ll go home. She got into her truck and started the engine.

He replied within a few minutes. A winky face and nothing else. He has a family emergency, but also enough time to go to the bar with me?

She rolled her eyes and put on her seat belt. Work was over, and she had an hour to get ready for the sloppy mess she called a plan.