“Obviously,” Ben said. “This way we’ll need fewer pills. Just keep giving me your signed prescriptions. Gabe will take the girls out to get them filled. He’ll bring the pills back to me. I’ll cut them, and Gabe will deliver them to our customers.”

“You have to be careful. It’s a myth that you can die from touching fentanyl, but in a room this small, particles can be released into the air. You’ll need a—”

Ben held up a gas mask and goggles.

“Okay, good.” I turned to Gabe. “Are you all right with this? I thought you said you were out?”

Gabe shrugged. “It’s for a good cause.”

A gentle thrill pulsed through my core. It was stupid. Juvenile. I was a grown woman. But I liked the sense that we were bound together. Not just by our past, but by what we were doing now. Gabe and Ben and me. No matter what happened now, we couldn’t unstitch the fabric of what we’d become.

“Let’s do it,” I said.

CHAPTER 29

I STARED OUT THE clinic window, my gaze on the rain falling in sheets onto the parking lot below. The snow had melted, the pavement filled with shimmering puddles. Gray light, the color of old socks, slanted through leafless tree branches.

A steady stream of water was falling from an overhang somewhere above the window. A spider did a sad little back-float through a puddle on the ledge, its legs waving frantically in the air. I thought about opening the window, to set the spider free, but I didn’t move. Eventually a cascade of water gushed onto the ledge, washing the spider away.

I pulled my burner phone out of my lab coat pocket and checked WhatsApp.

There was a text message from Gabe.

We need to get out of this. I think Ben’s using again, and it’s too dangerous. If you get caught you lose everything. If I get caught, I go straight to prison. It just isn’t worth it.

My heart sank. Ben was using again?

I sipped my coffee, thinking. Gabe had never cared before when Ben was using. His cowardice was becoming a liability. Ben had given me another $30,000, bringing my total to $65,000 hidden in my secret checking account. We were so close; we couldn’t stop now.

I thought for a minute before tapping out a reply.

Come meet Josh on Wednesday before his infusion. Hospital café, 10:30 a.m.

He didn’t reply for so long that unexpected tears of fury and frustration filled my eyes. I wiped at them angrily. I needed to get it together. But sheer exhaustion made it feel like my body had become detached from my brain. Too many sleepless nights were wearing on me.