The abrupt scream of the steaming wand makes me jump and spin towards the door. Staring at the empty coffee shop in front of me, I curl my hands into fists, annoyed at my own anxiety.
“Sorry man,” the barista says.
I turn, offering him a half hearted smile. “Don’t worry about it. Just a bit jumpy, I guess.”
The barista, a tall man with tattoos covering both arms, shrugs. “Makes sense. What, with all these murders. Did you hear about the last one?”
