“How do you and Dean know each other?” Laura asks. “He wouldn’t tell me.”
“I’m a customer of his,” I say. “At Martell’s Pharmacy. Down in York Falls.”
“Ah, I see. He took that job because they offered a big bonus and he’s convinced he has to pay for Sierra’s school.” Laura remembers. “I wonder if he ever got it.”
“I’m not sure,” I say, knowing full well he’ll probably return the bonus.
“We miss him terribly, although it's only been a few months since he’s been gone.” Laura sips her tea.
“I have a feeling he might be back home more often.” I smile at her. My heart breaks for me, but it’s happy for Laura and Sierra. They clearly depend on him a lot. It must be a lot of pressure on him.
“I’m not sure. He really seems to like York Falls.”
“Who seems to really like York Falls?” Dean appears in the doorway of the living room, leaning on the doorframe, running a hand through his hair.
“You,” His mother says. “How did it go with the towing company?”
“They’re on their way. They’re going to drop it off at Ron’s Automotive.”
“Great. Will you be able to drive me to work and Sierra to school this week?” She asks. It’s not like they can call an Uber or taxi up here. “If you can’t, I’ll ask Eliza.”
“Yes, of course—Don’t ask Eliza. I have to go back down to York Falls and drop Madeline and the van off. My truck should be ready.”
“Thank you, dear. I’ll see you when you get back.” Laura leaves me on the sofa, and presses a kiss to Dean’s cheek before wandering off into the kitchen.
“You ready?” He asks me, not meeting my eyes.
“As I’ll ever be, I guess,” I take one last swig of my tea, and a cookie for the road; it’s at least a six hour drive back home and I don’t know if Dean is in the mood for stopping. Laura walks us out to the porch, and waves goodbye from the front door.
I take up my perch in the passenger seat, tote bag in my lap. I check to make sure I have everything, and sure enough, everything is where it should be. Postcards in their baggies. Pills in their bottles.
“Before we go, I have to make another phone call,” Dean tells me, hooking his phone up to the van’s Bluetooth.
“Um, okay, sure, whatever you need to do.” I wrestle with my seatbelt that’s caught in my coat. Dean’s phone rings over the van’s speaker.
“Hello?” A crackly, tired voice picks up. I don’t recognize whose voice it is at first even though I’ve probably heard it a million times. I listen to Dean greet him.
“Hi, Dr. Martell.” Dean says—it’s Craig.
“Did you get rid of her?”
“No,” Dean says.
“No? What do you mean?” Craig asks. “I thought you got rid of her.”
“Are you asking if I murdered her? I’m not a hit man. No, I didn’t kill her.”
Craig lets out a goofy laugh. “No, I’m not asking if you killed her. I’m just asking if you…got rid of her. Is she coming back tomorrow morning?”
“Yes, she’s coming back tomorrow morning.”
“You motherfucker,” Craig swears. “I hired you to do one thing. You can’t come in tomorrow morning still expecting to have your job—I’ll give you until Monday morning at 9am if you still want the bonus, but if she walks in at 2:30?—”
“Craig, I quit,” Dean says into the phone. “I’m not coming back. Keep your money. Just let her in the store.”
“Ramsey, I can’t believe—” Dean hangs up the phone.
“Dean,” I say stubbornly. “Why did you just quit?”
