The diner was close to empty, even at noon. Just one man at the counter, and an older woman in the back who came every day and stayed through dinner, reading books and sipping lemon water. Nic remembered her from the last time she was here. The diner was warm and the water was free. It made her think that Roger Booth was a generous man.

Nic waved to the same waitress from the morning who was leaning on the counter, reading something on her phone. Ignoring her. Nic had captured Officer Reyes’s attention, so now she would be punished with bad service. Cold coffee.

It was just like the girls in school. She had not been one of them. Not ever. And their petty jealousies had amused her. She’d been an athlete. An academic. She’d had her eye on the endgame, which was getting into college and finding her path in life. Her friends had been like-minded, a small pack of four or five of them, banding together against the invisible social ladder in their school. It was absurd how they were sorted out. Boys who played sports with sticks were at the top. Their girlfriends sat beside them on their thrones. Pretty blondes. Always. Nic was blond and some used to think she was pretty. But she didn’t have it in her to sidle up to a jock.

She’d liked the quiet boys. The geeks and runners. The quiet thinkers. The ones Kurt Kent reminded of her of, though he didn’t fit into any of those categories. Maybe it was his earnestness. That was how her mother had described her father—earnest.

That life had felt strong and good.

That life had been a gift. A gift that was long gone.

She was about to get up and get the coffee herself when she saw a new text from Evan.

What did that woman say?

Nic started to text a reply, but decided to call.

“Hey,” he said. He sounded surprised.

“Hey. How are you?”

“I’m, you know, whatever. What’s going on there?”

Nic considered how much to tell him. He needed to keep his shit together. Junior year was important.

“I met with the woman.”

Nic told him about Officer Reyes, and how he’d punched holes through Edith Moore’s story.

“So she’s like the other assholes? After the money?” he asked.

“Everyone wants the money. That doesn’t mean she isn’t telling the truth about the truck. She would be pretty stupid to make up a story that Mom would know was a lie.”

Evan was silent then.

She shouldn’t have gone down that path. He was coming to the same conclusion she had earlier with Reyes, after they’d left Edith Moore at the Gas n’ Go. If their mother was dead, she wouldn’t be able to refute any story. And there was money to be had, dead or alive.