Buck's Pantry by Khristin Wierman

Author:Khristin Wierman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: SparkPress

Aimee heard Big Floyd’s Chevy Tahoe before she saw it creeping down the road with the lights off.

Sheriff Davis turned to the deputy. “Get Maggie back on the phone. Tell her I need her to go get Buck from the cabin right now and bring him here.”

The deputy hung up just as Big Floyd’s truck pulled to a stop next to them. “She’s on her way.”

Big Floyd jumped out of the truck, his phone pressed to his ear. “What in the hell do you mean, taking the night off?” He bellowed. “What in the goddamn hell does that even mean, son?” He continued to berate whoever was on the other end of the line, but Aimee stopped hearing the words because she was too startled by what she was seeing.

Big Floyd wore a trim navy robe. Blue-and-white-striped pajamas poked out from his cuffs, collar, and underneath the hem. His bare heels were visible in leather house slippers. For a moment, all of Aimee’s thoughts were replaced by the bewildered notion that never in a million years did she think she would see Big Floyd in his PJs.

The strangest thing was that his outfit did nothing to diminish his commanding presence. The robe was tightly tied and his back ramrod straight as he stood and continued to yell into the phone.

“Boy, I am looking at her car now! It’s right next to the car of the girl who’s missing, and the store’s completely dark! Can you think of a single good reason they’d have left them there like that?”

Aimee took a quick peek at the sheriff and deputy, who appeared as dumbfounded as she felt.

Big Floyd glared into the distance for several moments before snarling something Aimee couldn’t interpret and hanging up. He turned to the sheriff, and even though he wasn’t looking at her, Aimee could feel the heat of Big Floyd’s gaze.

“Little Floyd hasn’t talked to Gillian since this afternoon.” His long arm stretched toward the store. “That’s her Navigator down there.”

The sheriff cleared his throat. “Floyd, we don’t know for sure—”

“BJX62V,” Big Floyd barked.

The deputy’s head swiveled between the two other men. “What?”

Big Floyd narrowed his eyes at him. “BJX62V.”

The sheriff nodded toward the store. “Check the plate, Ronnie.”

The deputy turned and raised his binoculars. When he put them down, his face was paler than before. He nodded. “Yes, sir, that’s the license plate number.”

Big Floyd exploded. “How in the hell is it that you two sons-a-bitches have been out here for the last half hour and you did not know that?”

“Floyd—” The sheriff held up a hand.

“And how in the hell is it that you are still standing up here?” Once again, Big Floyd thrust his arm toward the store. “When you should be down there!”

The sheriff took a deep breath just as the deputy answered defensively. “We did go down there, and the place is empty.”

“You went inside the store?”

The sheriff opened his mouth, but the deputy spoke first. “The store is locked and empty, sir.”

Big Floyd bared his teeth.

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