Chapter 7 - The Arrival at Four
4:00 PM.
Precisely as the minute hand on the wall clock clicked onto the twelve, a long, low shadow rolled down the rainy street.
It was a vintage 1972 Cadillac Fleetwood Sedan de Ville, painted in an absolute, light-absorbing matte black. Its chrome bumpers were dull, its windows tinted so dark they appeared like solid sheets of obsidian. The massive vehicle moved without a sound, its engine a low, vibrating purr that shook the glass panes of the diner windows.
The Cadillac didn't park in a space. It pulled right up to the front entrance, idling lazily on the double yellow lines, blocking the view of the street.
Sam stopped breathing. His hands gripped the edge of the wooden booth until his knuckles turned as white as the flour on his apron.
Richard looked up from the register, cursing under his breath. "What the hell is this guy doing? He can't park there."
Richard shoved his toothpick into his pocket and grabbed a plastic sign from the counter that read NO PARKING - TOW AWAY ZONE. He stomped toward the front doors, his face red with sudden irritation.
"Richard, wait!" Sam shouted, his voice cracking with a sudden, overwhelming sense of dread. "Don't go out there!"
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Richard paused at the door, turning his head to glare at Sam with absolute contempt. "Mind your own business, cook. I'm not letting some rich asshole block my entrance."
Richard pushed the heavy glass door open and stepped out into the pouring rain.
