Page 36 of Don't Speak
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
“It’s Ben. He’s dead, Nikki.” The words ring in my head as her wails pierce my ears.
“Wh—What do you m-mean he’s dead?” I mumble.
“He didn’t come home after his errands this morning, and he wasn’t answering his phone, so I tracked his location and saw he was at the bar. W-when I got there, h-he w-was d-dead,” she stutters, sobbing uncontrollably. “Oh, Nikki. It was awful.”
“H-how?” I manage to get out.
“The place was trashed, and the safe was open. The cops believe it was a robbery. Nikki, they said someone suffocated him,” she sobs.
“Oh, Sarah. I am so sorry. Whatever I can do to help, please let me know,” I tell her, my mind reeling.
I don’t know who would want to hurt Ben.
He was a good man. The staff loved him—everyone did.
He’d piss off a few patrons from time to time, but killing him?
I didn’t think anyone hated him that much.
I guess he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.
But why was he even at the bar today to begin with?
“Thank you, Nikki. I don’t have it in me to inform the rest of the staff. Will you tell everyone else?” She sniffles.
“Yeah, of course,” I assure her. “Let me know if you need anything.”
“Thanks, Nikki.”
She hangs up the call, and I stare at Dean. “I don’t understand.”
“Life can change at any moment, baby. People take it for granted all too often,” he tells me. “I’m sorry for your loss. He was a nice guy. We can send his wife some flowers or buy her a few nights of dinner so she doesn’t have to worry about anything.”
“Yeah, that sounds nice,” I agree, my eyes welling with tears.
“Ben was the first person who gave me an opportunity when I arrived in this town. I applied to a few other places, but no one wanted to accept an outsider into their little circle. But Ben did. And he was always accommodating if I needed to take a few days here and there. Always stepped in to control unruly patrons until he finally told me I could handle them myself in any way I saw fit.”
I curl into Dean’s chest on the couch, the movie long forgotten.
It’s quiet for a moment before I succumb to the sadness.
I quietly sob. “Let it out, baby. It’s okay.
” So I do. I cry for yet another loss in my life.
I cry for his family. I cry for the man who lost his life too soon.
I just cry. It’s one of the only things consistent in my life.