Chapter 9 - The Unraveling
When Richard stepped back inside the diner, he was no longer the man who had walked out.
His pomaded hair was plastered to his forehead, rain dripping off the tip of his nose onto his tie. But it wasn't the water that made him look like a corpse—it was his eyes. They were wide, unfocused, and filled with a frantic, animal terror.
He didn't look at Sam. He walked past the counter, his wet leather shoes squelching against the linoleum floor, and walked straight into his office.
Click.
The lock on the office door engaged.
Sam stood in the middle of the floor, his heart hammer-punching against his ribs. The scrap of newspaper in his apron pocket seemed to grow hot against his hip. 400-88-CAD.
Ten minutes passed in absolute silence, save for the hum of the neon lights and the drumming rain outside.
Then, from inside Richard’s locked office, came a sound that made Sam’s blood run cold.
It was the heavy, rhythmic sound of wooden drawers being ripped open and dumped onto the floor. Paper tearing. Metal filing cabinets being slammed. A frantic, frantic search.
Sam walked slowly toward the office door. He raised his hand and knocked three times.
"Richard?" Sam called out. "Are you alright?"
Silence.
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Then, a sudden, violent CRASH—the sound of heavy glass shattering inside the office.
Sam didn't hesitate. He slammed his shoulder against the wooden door frame. The lock gave way with a splintering snap, and the door swung open.
