Keep Quiet(16)

“Let’s see what Donna says. She’s my manager.” Christopher turned toward the store just as a ponytailed employee came hustling around the corner. She was heavyset and wore wire-rimmed glasses, her face a mask of worry.

“What happened? Are you hurt, sir?”

“I’m fine, thanks.” Jake had seen her before but he didn’t know her, and he could tell from her expression that she was thinking the same thing about him. “I’m Jake Buckman, I always stop in here before work. I hit the gas instead of the brake and crashed into the Dumpster.”

Beside him, Christopher nodded. “He says he doesn’t need to go to the hospital.”

“That’s lucky. The police will be here any minute, I already called them.” Donna’s forehead relaxed, and she eyed the car and Dumpster. “Any accidents on our property need to be reported. I hope you understand, sir.”

“Yes, of course, please call me Jake.”

“Jake, are you sure you weren’t injured in any way?”

“I’m fine, thanks.”

“Okay then. I’ll have you sign some paperwork, if that’s okay. Come with me. I have the file in the office.” Donna started walking to the front of the store, and Jake and Christopher fell into step beside her.

Christopher looked over with a smile. “How about we treat you to a cup of coffee?”

“No thanks,” Jake answered, with a twinge. Donna went to the door, yanked it open, and led them inside the store.

Christopher split off. “Okay, Jake, see you later. I gotta get back to the register. Let me know what Mike says about the car.”

“Will do, Christopher. Thanks for the assist. I owe you one.” Jake followed Donna past stacks of bound newspapers, shelves of blue antifreeze jugs, and a refrigerated case of prepared salads and hard-boiled eggs. A customer in a down jacket and sweatpants stood at the lineup of bronze plastic coffee canisters, where the air smelled of hazelnut flavoring and Lysol.

“This way,” Donna called over her shoulder, leading him around the hoagie counter, down a short hallway, and into a cramped office that contained a box of paper towels, a cluttered gray desk, and a cheap black chair. A bulletin board held shift schedules, OSHA notices, and a cluster of kids’ school pictures, next to a black metal shelf with a trio of security monitors, one of which had a red Phillies cap sitting on top.

“Go Phils,” Jake said, nervous. He hadn’t counted on the security monitors, and he could see that the one in the middle overlooked the side parking lot.

“Are you a baseball fan?” Donna fetched a manila folder from a tan file cabinet against the wall.

“Who isn’t?” Jake couldn’t stop looking at the security monitor. Its resolution was remarkably good, in full color, and he could clearly see the Audi’s far side embedded in the Dumpster. He’d caught a lucky break in that the view of the camera was on the driver’s side of the car, so it wouldn’t have picked up the dent on the passenger side when he’d pulled in. Still, he wondered if Donna had seen the accident as it occurred or if there was a digital copy or videotape.

“Here we go.” Donna set a few forms in front of him. “These say that you had an accident here and that you declined to go to the hospital. Would you sign them? We have to have it for the lawyers.”

“I understand.” Jake picked up a pen and started signing the forms, preoccupied with the security camera. He gestured to the monitor. “Look at that. My God, it looks like the car is growing out of the Dumpster.”

“It kinda does, doesn’t it?” Donna eyed the screen. “I’m sorry for you. That’s a really sweet car.”

“Thanks.” Jake flipped to the next page of forms. “That monitor is good quality. Do you get a lot of detail?”

“Yes. We have it in case we get held up, but that hasn’t happened yet. Knock wood.” Donna rapped her knuckles on her head. “I tell my mom, it’s Concord Chase. The worst thing that happens here is minors trying to buy cigarettes. Still, she hates my working the night shift. She worries.”

“That’s what parents are for, to worry about their kids.” Jake cringed inwardly. He finished signing the forms and pushed them across the desk to her. “Here we go. Do you ever watch the monitor?”

“Mostly I’m busy on the floor.”

“So you didn’t see my accident?”

“No, sorry. I just heard the noise and covered the floor while Christopher ran out.”

“Of course.” Jake let it go. He didn’t want to arouse her suspicion or provoke her into playing the video. “When do you think the police will get here? I should call my wife and give her the heads-up that I’ll need a ride later.”

“They said they had a car nearby.”

Suddenly the door opened, and Christopher stuck his head inside the office. A tall, middle-aged police officer stood behind him, and Jake’s mouth went dry. Christopher said, “Donna, look who’s here, Officer John!”

“Yo, Officer John!” Donna burst into a grin, went to the door, and threw her arms around the policeman, who hugged her back.

“Hey, good to see you, girl!” he boomed, releasing her. He had a broad smile and friendly blue eyes under a black CTPD knit cap. A silver badge gleamed from his black nylon jacket, and embroidered white block letters over his right breast, which read MCMULLEN.