The progress bar hit one hundred percent and flashed a green Complete notification. I yanked the USB drive from the port, my hand slipping in my own sweat, and shoved the plastic stick down the front of my shirt, nesting it securely in my bra where it couldn't be seen.
I immediately pressed the master eject button on the front of the DVR. The primary hard drive carriage popped open with a loud mechanical click. I slid the heavy metal rectangle out just as the office door swung open, hitting the filing cabinet behind it.
Hollister filled the doorway, his massive frame blocking the fluorescent light from the hallway. He looked at the unplugged cables and the drive in my shaking hand.
"Got it right here," I said, my voice remarkably steady as I held the drive out to him.
Hollister snatched it from my fingers. He didn't even look at the equipment. He tossed the drive onto the linoleum floor and brought his heavy, steel-toed boot down on it. The plastic casing shattered instantly, and the internal magnetic platters crunched loudly under his crushing weight. He kicked the broken pieces into the dark corner of the office.
"Good," Hollister said, wiping his thick hands on his uniform trousers. "Now, how about those eggs?"
I followed him back out to the dining room, feeling the cold plastic of the USB drive pressing against my skin. Hollister sat back down in his stolen booth, entirely satisfied. Deputy Miller was already out the door, walking to his cruiser with the falsified accident report safely tucked in his pocket.
I walked behind the counter to the grill, turning on the gas burners with an empty, mechanical motion. I looked down to the far end of the service station.
Walter was still sitting there. He wasn't looking at me, or at Hollister, or at the broken plates I had just swept up. He was looking at his heavy, matte-black phone resting on the laminate counter. A single, solid green light was blinking slowly on the side of the device, pulsing like a quiet heartbeat in the tense room.
I touched my chest, feeling the hard edge of the copied digital drive beneath my clothes. I had the bloody towel. I had the footage. The sheriff thought he had erased everything, but as I watched that green light blink on Walter's military phone, I understood that my silence was no longer going to keep me safe.
CHAPTER 2 CONTINUED
"Over easy, June," Hollister called out through the silent dining room. "And don't burn the toast."
I plated the eggs and sourdough, my hands moving on muscle memory. The remaining diner regulars—two mechanics and a long-haul trucker—kept their eyes firmly locked on their own plates. Nobody was going to intervene. Hollister held the keys to their peace, and they knew it. I carried the heavy ceramic plate around the counter and slid it in front of the sheriff.
"Appreciate it," Hollister grunted, not looking at me. He cut into the yolk. "You run a smart operation here. Some folks get confused about how things work in my jurisdiction. They think the rules apply the same to everybody. But you understand the natural order of things. That's why your diner is going to stay open."
It was a promise and a threat. If I kept my mouth shut about Walter, my business survived. If I didn't, he would crush me just as easily as he had crushed that hard drive.
Hollister ate quickly, dropped a crumpled ten-dollar bill on the table, and walked out the front door. He adjusted his leather belt, the heavy brass buckle gleaming under the fluorescent lights, completely assured that he owned every business on this strip of highway.
The moment his cruiser pulled onto the asphalt, the collective tension broke. The trucker threw cash on the counter and practically ran out the door. The mechanics followed right behind him. Within two minutes, the diner was completely empty, save for the old veteran sitting silently at the far end of the counter.
I poured a glass of ice water and set it gently next to Walter's blinking matte-black phone. The thin streak of blood on his temple had dried, but an ugly purple bruise was already blooming along his jawline.
Walter didn't reach for the glass. He turned his head, his clear eyes locking onto mine with a cold, sharp focus.
"You didn't give him the primary footage," Walter said. It was a statement of absolute certainty.