Vengeance Borne by Amanda Bonilla

this world. Since winding up in this crazy town, he’d never experienced anyone else’s emotions so strongly. Jacquelyn pushed her emotions outward in a way that he couldn’t help but feel them. His mother had been the same, he knew without her saying a word, when she was sad, happy, upset. He’d always been intuitive to people’s feelings. Nothing could compare to the raw emotion assaulting him now, though.
    He popped an Ativan under his tongue. It didn’t matter that it was almost seven in the morning. There was no way he’d be able cope without the drugs. Forcing himself down on the bed, he tried to think of anything other than the shadows of rage, lust, and the resulting overconfidence that made him feel like he was better than anyone and ready to take on the world. Micah counted to thirty and took a deep breath, his body relaxing a little. Just enough to take the edge off . No need to take another pill. The dose he’d taken would help him rest. He couldn’t stand the surge of emotions coming and going without rhyme or reason. At least now he could sleep a few more hours.

    Jacquelyn proclaimed this particular eight-hour shift the longest in her history at Grind. She checked the clock for the millionth time, positive the second hand ticked backward.
    Town was buzzing with news of Willie Carmichael’s death. A community as small as McCall didn’t see many tragedies. And a death as violent as Willie’s had the local cops thrown for a loop.
    “The sheriff called in a wildlife expert. Even the Fish and Game can’t make heads or tails of it,” Bree said to the room at large. “But they’re wondering what Willie would’ve been doing out by Goose Creek so late at night. They questioned his wife, but she doesn’t know anything. She said he got drunk like he always does and they got into a fight…”
    Jacquelyn grabbed a washcloth and headed for the most recently vacated table in an effort to tune the gossip out. Bree should quit her job and go to work for the newspaper. Why even bother with the formality of speculation? Bree just inhaled every bit of news floating around and spewed it all out in a nasty cloud of malicious gossip. Maybe it made Bree feel important to be the person delivering these important juicy tidbits of information to the town at large. Probably why she made it her solemn duty to have her nose in everyone’s personal business. If somebody took a shit, Bree knew about it, and apparently Willie’s situation fit under the category of Things People Talk About at Work.
    “…can’t say anyone’s too sad about it. I heard he had a tendency to beat poor Christy…”
    Finn hadn’t been sorry. Not in the least. He didn’t even seem to think Willie Carmichael’s death was out of the ordinary, but Jacquelyn knew better, and damn it, so should Finn. You couldn’t live in the world they lived in and not believe in monsters. She’d seen them with her own eyes. They were real and worse than any mountain lion.
    “…I heard his kids didn’t even cry. When the sheriff told them, they just sort of stared at him…”
    Would anyone notice if Jacquelyn stuffed a couple of napkins in her ears? It was all she could do to keep from flinging the dirty wet washcloth at Bree’s face. That’d give her something to talk about. “So, it’s close enough to three, and we’re pretty slow,” Jacquelyn said, interrupting Bree’s verbal diarrhea. “I think I’m gonna leave early, if that’s okay.” She didn’t really care if Bree thought it was okay or not. But she had to play nice. She couldn’t afford to lose her job just yet. At least, not until she had something new lined up. Hey, maybe Libby would give her a job!
    Bree waved her off, too wrapped up in gossip to care if Jacquelyn left early or not. The rumbling of a diesel engine caught her attention, and Jacquelyn looked up just in time to see Trish pull up out front. The truck sat crooked in the parallel parking space outside the coffee shop,