59...

Randy stuck his head partly into the open driver's side window to get a better view at the floor in the back. Peeking out from underneath the woman's black linen coat like the memory of a bad dream somewhere towards noon, was a wide and vibrant blood stain.
The first thing that came careening out of Randy's mind was that calm and logical voice which wisely advised him that someone losing that much blood probably didn't survive. He stood there staring, unable to move. This same voice tried to grab his attention, to point out that he was standing there dumbly with his face pressed into the window of a stranger's car. It was no use though, his body seemed to be controlled by the rest of his brain that was awash with some faint chemical feedback. He felt pressed in gelatin. His eyes glanced over the back seat where he saw the stains of blood spatter that had been hastily cleaned away.
That got him moving, and he quickly pulled his head away from the window and spun around. He nearly tripped over the concrete island that the gas pump stood on and swayed a bit. He quickly steadied himself and peered again and more intently into those wide windows of the market. The sun bounced back off that window and only allowed faint outlines of what was inside; which did not include the shapely form of the woman from the car.
Randy was suddenly very aware of the screaming whine of insects. It made him grit his teeth.
He took a deep breath and did his best to walk calmly to the building’s doors. He wrapped his fingers into his key ring, forcing keys to protrude from between his fingers. He saw his reflection in the door’s glass and made a quick adjustment to his face to make it appear nonchalant. He opened the door with the hand not imbedded with keys.
The white noise sound of the recycled air inside cradled the low fuzz of the old radio. Randy felt a chill push through him that couldn’t be completely blamed on the air conditioning. He made a calm but thorough look around the small room, but didn’t see her.
The light in the restroom shone from beneath the door. Randy smiled a bit and let out a long, slow breath through his nose.
“Miss, you’re all filled up,” he called. He moved towards the register and where the small metal bat was kept. “Do you want me to check your oil?”
He bent slightly at the waist to grab the weapon, but in its place was something he couldn’t quite recognize at first. He grabbed what appeared to be a pile of fur and twisted it in his hand. It dawned on him that he was holding a blonde wig.
“I’m sorry,” that sultry voice said behind him. That voice that came from the sad side of midnight and sounded like it had spent a good amount of time in a roadhouse on the way here.
The first thing that went through his mind was, ‘I’m always just a little too slow’. A “fa…” was all he managed to get out of his mouth before the swing of that bat drove him to his knees, his body then continuing on without his permission to fall over and lie prone on the tiled floor of the service station.