Charlie Bartlett began the process of closing the store for the night. It had been a slow business day, and several times he had considered locking the front door and shutting the place down, but just as he was about to make a move in that direction, a new customer would come in. He had been standing at the cash register silently for the last twenty minutes, waiting.
Finally, he walked around the end of the counter, glancing up at the clock on the wall; it was nearly ten-forty-five, and it was beginning to rain. He walked toward the door just as he saw an older green Chevrolet pull into the parking lot. Two people; a man and a girl exited the vehicle and hurried in through the front door.
“Yes sir, can I help you?” he asked of the man.
“Yeah, buddy. How about a pack of Marlboros?”
Charlie nodded and walked to his spot at the register, then turned to get the pack of cigarettes the man had requested. Just as he was doing this, he saw that the girl was walking toward the cooler in the rear of the place.
“Let me get those cigarettes for you,” Charlie said as he unlocked the glass case on the wall, removed the Marlboros, and relocked the case. “Here you are, sir,” he said as he handed the man the smokes. “That’ll be eight forty-one.” Charlie accepted the ten-dollar bill the man slid across the counter and turned to ring up the sale on the cash register.
“You know that’s too damn much for smokes, don’t you?” the customer said.
Charlie turned from the open register and stared into the muzzle of a nine-millimeter pistol pointed at him.
“Hell, I think free is better, don’t you?” the man asked.
“Sure pal, anything you say,” Charlie said as he slid the bill back across the counter toward the man with the gun. The customer reached out and grasped the bill as Charlie started to close the register drawer; to which the man quickly said, “Leave it open.”
The customer pocketed the ten, then extending the weapon in his hand. He offered a quick grin as he jerked at the trigger. The weapon recoiled in the man’s hand as the bullet struck Charlie in the side, and he fell behind the counter in pain. The man with the gun called out to the girl, “Sheila, honey, how about grab a couple of six packs while I get me a couple cartons of smokes and finish up this business.”
The man walked around the counter and smashed open the cigarette case, grabbing two cartons of Marlboros. He kneeled down and said to the proprietor, “No hard feelings, man,” as he put the pistol to the side of the man’s head and pulled the trigger.
As he stood up, the girl approached, carrying the beer, along with a small stuffed bear. He gave her a smile as he pointed to the body of the clerk on the floor. “Dead men tell no tales. Now, put that toy back and let’s grab some cash and get going baby, I don’t want to have to drive all night.”
The girl put on a pouty face as she said, “Larry, I don’t know why I can’t have this.”
“Because, Sheila, you’re not a baby… get rid of that thing right now,” he demanded.
She dropped the bear to the floor and walked toward the man. She watched as he rifled through the register drawer, taking as much cash as he could find. Finally, the pair exited, returning to their vehicle.
As the Chevrolet pulled out of the parking lot, a dark blue Toyota Camry pulled in and parked close to the door. A man exited the car and hurried into the building in the light rain. He looked around for a moment, and after seeing no one in the store he called out, “Hey, is anybody in here? Charlie, where are you?”
Getting no answer, he stepped up to the counter and, peering behind it, saw the body of the proprietor. Backing up quickly, he removed his phone and punched in 9 1 1.
Prologue
Charlie’s Quick Stop
North of Sacramento, California
848 Miles From Glen Mesa Ghost Town
Saturday Night