The man’s brow furrowed before they raised in realization. “Oh! Really short, dark haired? Rides a motorcycle?”
The man frowned. “I see. Well... I’m very sorry, gentlemen, but your friend was in a terrible accident last night.”
Arlo was pale, his eyes wide with fear. The man cleared his throat. “Her motorcycle spun out last night at that intersection right there,” he said, pointing. “There were ambulances and everything.”
The man frowned, his mouth set in a hard line. “I’m afraid I don’t know. I went out when I heard the crash and she was fairly delirious. Kept insisting that I don’t call her an ambulance. I didn’t listen, of course; she wasn’t doing too great. But they know what they’re doing at the hospital. She’ll be okay, I’m sure.”
“Most likely,” the man said with a nod. “Here, let me grab her phone for you.” He disappeared into the back room, his shoulder’s hunched with age.
Arlo shook his head. “I’m always telling her to be careful. She should have been more careful. God...”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “God. I told her that she shouldn’t ride her bike with that hand, but she’s so god damn stubborn.”
The old man can back, holding Val’s black smart phone. “Here it is! It got a little cracked from the accident and I think it might be dead, but it was still working!”
Arlo nodded, his brow drawn. “Definitely.” They left the store and Arlo headed for his car. “Did you catch a taxi? Or do you need a ride?”
