Something that almost looked like pain flickered across Greg's expression. “You're still planning to interfere.”
“Yup.”
“Dustin...” Greg hesitated. “This one is different.”
“Different how?”
“Marco Reyes-Ybarra is sixty-seven years old. He's in the hospital.” Greg's voice was careful. “I don't know exactly what's going to happen, but there may not be anything you can do.”
Dustin didn't let himself be distracted by possibilities. “I won't know until I try.”
Greg shot him a dismayed look. “Just… If he does pass and I have to collect, please don't interrupt that. It would be very unsettling for the spirit.”
Dustin studied him for a moment. Greg looked genuinely worried. Not about the assignment, but about the person. About doing right by someone in their final moments.
“Fine,” Dustin said. “If it happens, I won't get in your way.”
Greg's shoulders dropped with relief. “Thank you.”
“But I'm still going to try.”
“I know.” Greg clutched his clipboard a little tighter. “I'm starting to think that's just who you are.”
Dustin didn't know what to say to that. So he didn't say anything.
He climbed into his truck. Greg remained in the parking lot, looking faintly lost, like he wasn't sure what came next.
Dustin rolled down the window. “Hey.”
Greg looked up.
“Get some sleep. Do reapers sleep?”
“Sometimes.”
“Well, get some rest. You look like you need it.”
Greg's lips twitched. Almost a smile. “Goodnight, Dustin.”
“Night, sunshine.”
He pulled out of the parking lot before he could think too hard about why he'd used the nickname again. In the rearview mirror, he watched Greg stand there for another moment—then step through the diner's front door and vanish in the process.
Right. Reaper.
Dustin shook his head and drove back toward his motel, the taste of coffee still on his tongue and something he couldn't name sitting heavy in his chest.
CHAPTER 15
Dustin couldn't sleep.
He told himself it was the bitter coffee he'd had at the diner earlier. The burned beverage was the reason he was still awake at 2 AM, laptop open, the blue glow of the screen the only light in the room.
It had nothing to do with what Greg had told him at dinner. He wasn't thinking about theteaspoon of soulor the notebook full of last words. Nor was he thinking about the way Greg's face had shuttered when Dustin asked if he'd ever let himself want anything else.
Nope, his insomnia had nothing to do with any of that at all.
Marco Adelmo Reyes-Ybarra (Denver)was easier to find on the internet than Sarah had been.
