Ledger got a tip from his wallet and set it on the table. He stood up and took the bag from her.
“I am sorry,” he said.
“You didn’t kill anyone,” Clemmie said, then begrudgingly added, “Neither did Syder. He just didn’t save anyone either.”
She tucked the dollars into her apron and grabbed the napkin she’d used off the table, the linen crumpling in her hand. Then she put her service-professional mask on and curled her lips in an empty smile.
“Enjoy your food,” she lilted with equally empty cheer. “Have a nice day!”
Ledger glanced down at his phone, where Hark’s garbled text marched across the screen.
I’m still here. Here. Where? Still I.
“Probably not,” he said as he collected his coat from the back of the chair and headed for the door.
* * *
The phone rangout on the first call.
Ledger lowered it from his ear as he walked along the street. The plastic bag, weighted down with walnut-heavy food, rustled as it bumped against his leg with each step. He swiped “call again” and waited.
Just before it clicked off again, Hark picked up. He didn’t say anything.
“Hark, I don’t have time for you to go off the deep end.”
Silence vibrated down the line until Hark broke in with a rough whisper. “I see it. When I’m alone,” Hark said. “Around corners. In reflections. Out of the corner of my eye.”
“Good for you.”
There was a pause, and the wet, hysterical breathing cut off with a strangled cough. “Not so much. Fuck you.”
“It’s not your first curse.”
“No,” Hark said. “And I don’t want it to be my fucking last. Come on, man. Cut me loose. I’ll owe you one.”
“You already do.”
“Look, I wasn’t lying,” Hark said. “Maybe I dressed it up a bit, but it’s the truth. Every time I’m alone, it’s there. And Ledger? It’s getting closer.”
“Hark, I got your text. You better not have gotten me to call you just to sell your breakdown. Did you find Violet?”
“Maybe.”
Ledger waited. He turned left at the laundromat he used to work in and stopped on the curb to let the traffic pass. There was a break between a Toyota and a rusty red pickup, and Ledger broke into a jog to get across the road.
“I don’t know this is you,” Hark said suddenly. “You could be anything.”
“I’m not.”
“I didn’t text you,” Hark said, his voice strained.
Ledger stopped outside the burnt-out book shop and briefly wondered what had happened to Dale. A few sheets of paper, the edges charred and curled, fluttered from the boarded-up windows as Ledger stood there.
“Hark…”
“I didn’t.”
“It was from your phone,” Ledger said.
