Cinder Hollow: Part 4
Ross
Vickers took a hard turn into the parking lot of The Hollow Inn. “What do you say we drown our sorrows a little?”
Ross nodded. “Sounds like a plan.” she said with a sigh.
She was exhausted — mentally and physically. A week had passed since the incident in the forest, and it had worn her down. Every day felt like she was trudging through treacle, and the dead-end leads weren’t helping. They were no closer to catching the Fauxra.
Sure, the killings had stopped, but that hadn’t kept the Chief — or half the town — from turning the screws on them. It didn’t matter that they had next to nothing to go on; their job was to keep the town safe, and right now, no one felt they were doing that.
They’d been stuck chasing bullshit leads to make it look like they were doing something. Some shop owner swore they saw a “strange figure” running at the edge of the woods; turns out a deer can look strange when you’re paranoid. Last night, someone dialed 9-1-1 about intense growling in the alley behind their house — it was just two stray dogs going at it.
The ones who hadn’t called the police to report bogus sightings (or to complain) had taken to gossip to pass the time until the Fauxra struck again. Ross heard the whispers and mutterings from the small midweek crowd as soon as she entered the bar. Some thought Bill was a rambling old fool, while those who believed him speculated about what kind of monster was lurking in the forest — a vampire, a wendigo, Bigfoot.
Loretta was behind the bar, pouring a whiskey for another customer. She waved at them as they approached. “Hey, Rosa. Would you mind serving these two?”
Ross had been in Cinder Hollow for less than two weeks, but already felt like she knew all the bar staff at The Hollow Inn. She’d never seen Rosa before, though. The new girl was young, with bronze skin and messy jet-black hair. There was something about her — an air of mystery that immediately drew Ross in. Maybe it was her graceful, almost too-perfect posture or the way her eyes seemed to study every movement in the room. Ross couldn’t take her eyes off her.
Rosa walked over to them, her steps slow and deliberate. Every motion seemed calculated, almost like she was gliding instead of walking. “What can I get you?” she asked in a rough but pleasant voice, her amber eyes locking onto Ross as if she’d known her for years.
Ross froze. There was something hypnotic about her. She felt a butterfly in her stomach, her cheeks warming up. “Uhm… hi,” she managed to say, her voice sounding far away to her own ears.
Rosa smiled at her, wide and genuine, like she was seeing an old friend she hadn’t spoken to in years. “Hi,” she replied, excitement bubbling in her tone.
Ross felt her tongue swell up, words fumbling in her mind. She blinked, trying to focus, but for some reason, she just couldn’t string a sentence together. “Uh…”
Vickers, watching the awkward exchange with a smirk, cut in. “Large whiskey for me, sweetheart. And a beer for my tongue-tied friend here.”
Rosa’s gaze lingered on Ross for a moment longer, her smile never wavering, before she finally turned to grab their drinks.
Vickers leaned on the bar, glancing at Loretta. “What’s the deal with the new girl?” he asked, gesturing toward Rosa.
Loretta leaned forward, tossing a dish towel over her shoulder. “She’s great, isn’t she? Wandered in off the street last week. I think she might be Mexican, or Venezuelan, or something Spanish — I don’t know.”
Vickers’ grin widened as he turned to Ross. “Well, wherever she’s from, it looks like she’s got los ojos for Ross here.”
Ross felt her cheeks flush again. “Shut up,” she muttered, though she couldn’t help but glance at Rosa’s backside out of the corner of her eye.
“And I reckon the feeling’s mutual,” Vickers teased, dodging a half-hearted punch from Ross.
“Is that right?” Loretta raised her eyebrows. “Well, you keep your hands to yourself, Emily. I’m not about to lose another good worker to a promiscuous cop.” She shot a quick scowl at Vickers before walking off.
Vickers raised his hands, laughing. “Come on, Loretta! That girl never left because of me!”
When Rosa returned with their drinks, her smoky gaze locked onto Ross again. Ross’ face was burning now, and she eventually had to look away. “Thanks,” she muttered shyly as the girl walked away. She wasn’t used to this kind of attention — at least, not from a woman — but she couldn’t deny she didn’t hate it either.
A few drinks later, the bar felt busier. The jukebox was blasting, people were dancing on tables, falling off chairs, and shouting over each other. Ross laughed as she nearly spilled a full beer down the back of some guy who bumped into her, but he didn’t seem to care. Was getting drunk midweek a normal thing in Cinder Hollow, or was the whole town blowing off steam after the past couple of weeks of chaos?
She stumbled back onto her barstool, giggling, her head spinning just enough to feel good.
“Enjoying yourself, huh?” Vickers asked, swirling his whiskey without looking up.
“Yeah! Aren’t you?” Ross grinned, but Vickers just wore that same tired smile, barely speaking to anyone else.
“I am,” he said, though there was something weary in his voice. “But a lot of people here would rather I wasn’t.”
Ross’ smile faltered. She’d noticed a few dirty looks when they entered, but had shrugged them off as the usual anti-cop sentiment. Maybe it was more than that. “Is there a reason why they hate you? Other than, you know, you being an asshole?”
Vickers snorted. “Oh, that’s nothing new. They’ve always thought that.” He looked up from his drink. “But they also think I killed my ex-partner.”
A chill crawled up Ross’ spine. The rowdiness of the bar faded into the background as she tried to figure out how best to process this. Her instincts were working overtime.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he said, the bar lights casting strange shadows across his face. “You’re wondering if I did it. I’d be wondering the same thing.”
Ross shook her head. “I don’t think you did it.” Her voice wavered, and despite herself, her eyes flickered with doubt.
“Well, you’re a damned fool then. You don’t know me well enough to make that call.” He downed his drink before continuing, eyes fixed on the empty glass. “His name was Hayes. Everyone loved him — youngsters, old-timers, hell, even the crooks had a soft spot for him. Not me, though. I thought he was a smug prick. Always kissing the chief’s ass, taking credit for my hard work, making himself look like the hero. He had no love for me either, and we argued all the time. Even had a dust-up in here one night — son of a bitch kicked me up and down this place, in front of everyone. That was the week before he went missing.
“One evening, we respond to a call about a burglary, and spot the two little bastards trying to make their getaway. They ran into the forest, and we followed. We must’ve been running full tilt for a good five minutes, and I’m about to cough up a lung. Hayes was always fitter than me, a total gym junkie. So, when I stopped to catch my breath, he made some comment about me being out of shape. I told him to go fuck himself… and that’s when I heard him scream.
“The trees got hold of him — wrapped him up in their branches. I wanted to help, but honestly? I was fucking terrified. Thought they were gonna grab me next. So I sort of just watched. Watched as they dragged him away, screaming. They never found him.
“When they asked me what happened to him, I had to say I didn’t know. I wasn’t about to tell anyone what I saw — they’d have thought I was a fucking nutjob. The only person I told was Hex, and she believed me. The rest of this town? Either they think I did it, or they think I might’ve.”
Ross stared at her partner, her mind racing. His face showed guilt and regret — but was it for not saving Hayes, or because he had killed him? “I’m sorry, Vickers,” she said finally, her voice quieter than she intended, hoping to defuse the moment.
“Sorry for what?” he asked, his voice cold. “Sorry for what happened, or sorry that you don’t trust me any more than you could throw me?”
Her throat tightened. She wanted to respond, to find the right words to reassure him, but her mind came up blank. And then, mercifully, she was saved by Rosa. “Who wants to do some shots?” the girl said, appearing with a bottle of tequila and three shot glasses, batting her wild amber eyes at Ross.
“Sure, sweetheart,” Vickers said, giving Ross a final look. “Why not?”
Ross forced a smile as Rosa lined up the three glasses, filling them to the brim with gold tequila (spilling a bit too, earning a scowl from Loretta). She placed three lime wedges on a plate, alongside a salt shaker.
Vickers went first, knocking his back like a seasoned pro. Next went Rosa, who bit into the lime first, poured the salt straight from the shaker into her mouth, and finally necked the tequila, her face scrunching as she swallowed. Ross frowned — there was no way Rosa could be Mexican after that bizarre technique.
Then it was Ross’ turn. Shots had never been her thing, and her stomach churned before she even touched the glass. She pinched her nose as she drank it (spilling the salt from her hand), trying to ignore the burn in her chest. Reaching for the lime, she found the plate empty. She glanced up to see Rosa grinning with Ross’ wedge between her teeth.
The tequila (and several beers) had Ross’ head swimming, her inhibitions fading to a distant memory. Without thinking, she leaned across the bar, catching the lime with her teeth, her lips brushing against Rosa’s. When she tried to pull away, Rosa grabbed the back of her head, holding her in place, locking them in a playful, lime-infused kiss. The bar erupted into wolf whistles and applause, the regulars cheering them on with enthusiasm.
When Rosa finally let go, Ross hesitated for a second longer, savoring the moment. Rosa’s lips were soft, tender… delicious. She didn’t want to pull away.
But as she slowly withdrew, Rosa’s playful smile faded. Her wild eyes, once filled with mischief, now shifted over Ross’ shoulder. Then they narrowed.
“Hey, look who it is!” Vickers’ voice broke through, and he stood from his stool, looking toward the door.
The bar cheered again.
Ross turned just in time to see Bill shuffling inside, an older man guiding him by the arm. Bill wore a fresh bandage, with two patches covering the holes where his eyes used to be. He gave a shy wave in no particular direction, a wan smile tugging at his lips.
Vickers met him halfway across the room. “How are you, buddy? Great to see you back on your feet. Come on, first one’s on me.”
He led Bill to the bar. “Rosa, a large whiskey for me,” he gestured toward Ross, “and maybe a glass of water for my drunk friend here.” Then he patted Bill on the back. “And whatever this fine gentleman desires.”
Bill reached his hands out, feeling the bar’s edge. “I’ll have a—a…”
Suddenly, Bill’s smile crumbled. The color drained from his face, like the life had been sucked out of him.
The noise of the bar dulled, the regulars falling silent as they watched Bill tremble.
“Come on, buddy,” Vickers said with a laugh. “It hasn’t been that long since you were here, have you forgotten how to order a drink?”
Bill’s lips parted, but all that came out was a terrified wail. He staggered back, his whole body shaking. Vickers lunged to catch him, but Bill crumpled to the floor, landing flat on his back.
The entire bar gasped, a crowd quickly gathering around him. His hands shook uncontrollably as he cried out, his voice raw and hysterical.
“She’s here!” he screamed. “The one who took my eyes — she’s here in the bar!”