Elena peeled the tape, took the key, and entered the dark kitchen.
The diner smelled the way it always did.
Coffee.
Grease.
Bleach.
Lies.
Elena moved past the prep table, past the walk-in freezer, past the pantry where Rosie stored paper napkins, canned peaches, and cigarettes she claimed were for guests.
Then she heard Rosie’s voice from the dining room.continue reading …
