“Where can I find Ricky Trundell?” I ask.

The hallway is dark and all I can see is the white of his eyes.

“I don’t think you know what you’re doing, little girl,” the man mocks me.

“Tell me where Ricky is,” I say without missing a beat.

I’m at a point where all I can do is pretend that I know what I’m doing. A facade is better than nothing. They don’t know anything about me and they just might believe it.

“Back there,” the man finally caves. I let out a slight, but hopefully unnoticeable, sigh of relief.

“Come with me,” I say. I take a few steps back, keeping the gun squarely on him. He follows my instructions.

The door leading to the back room is slightly ajar and I push it open with my back. As soon as I turn to face the table, all four men rise to their feet and point their weapons in my face.

“Told ya this was a bad idea.” The man who grabbed me starts to laugh.

“I’m here just to ask you some questions,” I say, trying to defuse the situation.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” the tall one with a scar across his face asks.

“I need your help,” I say sternly.

I drop the gun to my side but don’t let go of it.

The men continue to point their guns in my face until the older man in a worn leather jacket and a cigar in between his fingers raises his palm and waves it a little, telling them to lower them. One of them tries to protest his decision, but he just gives them one hard look and the man caves.

“Who are you?” he asks.

“My name is Olive Kernes and I’m looking for Ricky Trundell.”

“Why?”

“I need to ask him a few questions.”

“Are you a fucking cop?” one of the young guys to my left yells out. “Have you completely lost your mind?”

“I’m not a cop. I don’t work with law enforcement. I’m here about something else.”

“What?”

They all stare at me as I try to decide whether or not I should just come out and say it. One of them takes a sip of his beer and another taps his fingers slightly on the table.

They are all dressed in dark clothes; leather jackets and black pants. It’s not a uniform per se, but I wonder if it’s a coordinated effort.

“You better speak up,” the man in charge says. “I’m not going to wait forever.”

9

Olive

When I tell them the truth…

I swallow hard and then tell them that I’m Nicholas Crawford’s girlfriend. I tell them that he has been arrested for the murder of his partner and I’m here trying to find out the truth of what happened.