"A little birdy tipped me off about the arrest. Fortunately, I was able to leave town in time."
"How did you find me?" I whisper hoarsely, turning my back to the dining area.
"Same little birdy. Todd called home on Christmas." He chuckles. "Always calls his grandma like a good boy. You know her phone's been tapped for a while."
Shit. I rack my mind and realize I told Todd the news about The Monster being put away - but didn't warn him against calling home until it was done. Dread and guilt sink into me, and I realize I screwed up one last time.
"You seen Todd today?" he asks casually. "I have. Going to pick him up now."
"Stay away from him, Jake!" I snap.
"Not until we make things right between us," The Monster says calmly. "Look out the front door."
My stomach twisting, I manage to move my stiff body to face the door.
The Monster is outside, his lean form bathed in the light of the sign near the door.
It's him. He's here. There's no mistaking the face that's haunted my dreams for four years.
"Fine," I choke out the words. "Let's finish this between you and me. Leave him out of it."
"If I thought I could trust you, maybe." He moves away from the doorway.
I squint and move closer, watching him get into a car. Seconds later, the taillights glow red, illuminating the new fallen snow.
"Race you home," he says with a low laugh. "Whoever gets there first gets Todd."
"You don't know where we live."
"Apartment B, four thirteen Grove Street." He hangs up.
This can't be happening. Frozen in place, I watch his taillights exit the diner's parking lot.
From nightmare to fairytale to nightmare again. I can hardly breathe, and my only thoughts are on Todd and what happened the last time The Monster got a hold of my brother.
All but dropping the phone on the counter, I fish my cell out of my apron and dial Todd. He doesn't answer, so I text him with fingers shaking so badly, the spell check can't keep up with me. "Please be with Petr. Please be with Petr," I whisper, struggling to maintain my composure while typing. I have no reason to think he is. It's sheer desperation.
When I'm finished, I shove the door into the kitchen at full speed and dart to my locker. Whipping off the apron, I pause, eyes remaining on its crumbled form at the bottom of my locker.
Petr. If anyone can help me get Todd back, it's Petr.
Without a second thought, I bend and yank out his card with trembling fingers and dial his number. There's no answer, and I leave a message in such a breathless haste, I'm not sure what I say. I pull on snow boots, grab my coat, and then run.